NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: Story RP that's setting up an important RP in the somewhat distant future. OOC comments are encouraged, but no IC, please.)

The city is Skye. Capital of one of the most powerful nations in Europe and a morass of people and technology... technology that failed them months before when the Crimmond Information Matrix gained sentience and caused itself to be destroyed. Now the city was rebuilding.

"Unidentified aircraft, you are to ID yourself immediatly and change heading 12 degrees North."

The call was recieved by a WWII veteran P-82, a Twin Mustang, the call sent by a four year old Stinger-II aerofighter. Retired Captain Virgil Hilts sighed and looked over at his copilot, in the duplicate right cockpit. "Cut the sh*t, Sam. It's Virgil. Changing course."

"Captain? Finally finished fixing that plane, eh? Sorry 'bout this sir, but Skye is under no-fly as of 3am."

"No-fly? By whose orders and why?"

"Delta, sir and you know him. We don't need to know why, just do as we're ordered." The Stinger shot past him and circled, being much faster at stall speed than his P-51 at full throttle.

"Allright, returning to my airfield. Tell your CO I'm gonna file a complaint though." As he said so, Virgil put the P-82 into a spirl dive and brought the nose up in the oposite direction, heading for home.

"Yes sir, good to talk to ya again, sir." The Stinger-II shot off over the city and was gone.

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Three days went by after he filed his complaint, but no one responded to him. Five days and he called up the airstrips behind the palace on numbers and extensions only pilots, officers, the retired servicemen and palace military knew. "Who is this? Colonel, this is retired Captain Hilts... I want to know when the no-fly zone will be lifted, my P-82 is grounded for no damn reason. No. No, I don't have autorization to use this line. I know it because I was Lord Tian's wingman.... Yes. THAT Captain Hilts. Well, you go and make a report on this. Like you can do a damn thing to me."

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http://home.att.net/~historyzone/xf82-2.JPG
North American P-82 Twin Mustang

Archangel Heavy Industries Stinger-II (http://home.earthlink.net/~alpha_zero_usm/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/apollo.jpg)

http://home.earthlink.net/~alpha_zero_usm/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/mcqueen3.jpg
Captain Virgil Hilts(retired)
Four Time Ace
Former Wingman to the Emporer
Former Head of Palace Defense Squadron

"Allright, start up the right engine!" Virgil yelled, the engine sputtering to life and would have been deafening in the hanger had they notbeen wearing hearing protection.

There was a problem though... the engine started to spray oil. "Cut it off! Cut it off before it overheats!" and as fast as it started, it stopped. The copilot, a civilian man named Rak in his late twenties to Virgils mid-thirties, bald by choice and never a talkative one, peered out of the cockpit. "Oil leak?" he asks the oil covered ex-soldier. "No. It's an ancient Atlantian skin exfolient, now get your ass down here and help me check this engine."

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After another three tests and the last ending in sucess, Virgil sighed. "Allright. Go on home Rak, I'll clean up."

After the man had gone, Virgil spent the next three hours cleaning and spreading industrial strength cleaners on the floor where the oil spilled. Besides being an enthusiast, he insisted on not leaving a filthy hanger behind. He changed and tossed the oily coveralls into the wash, then left for the night.

The next day, when Rak came in, the cleaning agents were still there, so he wiped them away and went looking for Virgil. After a half hour and no answer from him at his house, Rak shrugged and went home. Wouldn't be the first time Virgil conked out for a day or so.