NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Hey, only post here if you're signed up on the OOC thread here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13905922&postcount=1)

TO: NATIONS OF THE WORLD
FROM: THE UNITED KINGDOM OF USTIO NORTH
RE: WAR

Dear Sir/Madam,
No doubt you have heard about the current situation between Kulikovia and Imperial Fungi. While we have been reluctant to commit our military forces, Fungi desperately needs help. Therefore, i propose that we form a secret squadron from our best pilots to go and help them fight and bolster their morale. If you agree with this idea, send your best pilot to Cockleshell Beach Airbase in Ustio on 24th february of this year.

We eagerly await your arrival

Signed,
Wintson Kennedy,
Ustian Minister For Defence

__________________________________________________
Cockleshell Beach Airbase, Ustio North

The base was large, with plenty of hardened aircraft shelters. Alongside them was the control tower and safety service headquarters. The base was situated by a beach, and the sea was calm and deep blue. Those pilots not training were either attending to the line of Curtiss P-40 Kittyhawks by the hangars or playing football on the beach.

Away to the west, over the ocean, a pair of P-40's were practicing dogfighting. They were both deep green, but one had a yellow tiger mouth while the other had a red shark mouth painted on it.

Squadron Leader Hal Winters flew the tiger P-40. He swung it up into an immelman turn, flipping over to come behind his adversary

"Got you Sergerant! You'e out too" he said into his radio

"Aw, dang it" came the reply, as the P-40 turned back to base

Winters remained on his current course, then turned back and flew into a landing pattern

He eased the P-40 down onto the metal runway. There was a thud as it touched down, but it was normal. He taxied into a parking space layed out for him, and switched the engine off. Sliding back the canopy, the crew cheif climbed up onto his plane to help him out

"Get them all again sir?" he asked

"Yep, but they're getting better" he replied

"That's what we want to hear sir" the cheif said "There's a general here, wants to see you"

"Really? Hm, wonder what he wants" Winters said to himself as he climbed out of the cockpit and down onto the ground. The cheif passed him his blue officers cap, and he handed back his flying helmet and flying gear.

He headed off toward the breifing room

Imperial Fungi

It was all quiet as the front was silent. The Fungi minator's partolled the border line as they waited. Their eyes darted about as the possibility of war was coming towards them. It was the usual thing to do their, keep quiet and wait for the enemy. Fungi Master Justinina had called to friendly nations for help when the trouble started. His own forces weren't well trained unlike their next door nations.

"This is Fungi Master Justinina calling any friendly forces," he started as his senses went off. "We need help as we're......."

That was the last transmission sent from Imperial Fungi. It was dangerous now as the threat of war was nearing and Imperial Fungi was isolated.

10 miles from the border of Imperial Fungi

Captin Striker watched and waited for his turn to take off.

"Captin Striker, come in" said a staticy voice on the radio.

"Captin Striker reporting in. Permission to take off?" said Striker from inside his P-51.

"Permission granted" said the voice.

Striker gave the all clear signal and took off into the night heading towards Cocklshell beach

The five MiG-3 Interceptors took off from the runway at the top take-off speed.

In the cockpit of the lead plane was Wing Leader Jenci Vince of the 23rd Red Spear air wing. They slowly pulled up from the runway and began to soar through Ursavian airspace. They were making their way to Imperial Fungi territory in order to provide air support. They were the best of the best when it came to Ursavian dog-fighting and they weren't afraid to use that skill.

Winters stepped into the briefing room. Apart from General Mathiass, it was empty.
As he got closer, the general turned to face him. Winters gave a half-hearted salute, but the general made nothing of it, returning the salute.

"Hello Hal" he said

"Hello General" replied Winters "What's all this about?"

"Well, no doubt you've heard about the tensions between Kulikoivia and Imperial Fungi? Well, The Boss doesn't want to commit troops just yet, so we're sending you to an elite squadron made up of the best fighter pilots in the world"

"Okay. Do i take my plane over there now?" Winters asked

"I'm afraid not. You can't take your P-40, but we've procured a P-47 for you. It's being painted and re-armed now. Should be ready to go by tomorrow morning, so you'd best get some sack time" Mathiass said

"If you say so, sir" Winters said, his voice with an edge of sarcasm.

With that, the general got up and left, leaving Winters standing alone in the briefing room

Premier Palace, Poiuytrewq

The Premier's Inner Chambers

"Son, I really think this is a good idea. Plus, I have the power as Premier to make you do it." Lord Gregor da Vincho spoke.

"Fine, Dad," said his son Andrew.

"Think of all the honour you will get from wartime kills."

"Fine, Dad," he repeated in the same tone.

Andrew da Vincho went off into the night, out the stately doors of the famous Palace. A left on Peach, a right on Askyton, a left on Cavtype... here we are. He emerged out of the shadows, entering a AFK (Air Forces Kenavt) recruitment center.

He promptly went through training and into active duty. Getting one of the first P-47s in the Force as a movement behind the scenes by his father, he showed prowess in training. He was then assigned to the fairly good TSS Chase carrier wing. Andrew had several small "not on the record" missions in foreign countries (including 101st Paratroopers, not that he knows), which were performed with full marks. After his superiors heard about the squadron, his father once again shifted his weight.

Andrew taxied in on the runway at Cockleshell Beach Airbase with his P-47 Thunderbolt.

Boy... do I love this thing... he thought as he stroked the plane gently after getting out. You and me... he thought, back to flying with flak coming in screaming over the sky with enemies on his tail... I'm sure we'll see a lot.

Andrew promptly walked inside the base and began to look for someone to talk to.

Cocklshell Beach Airbase

Pilot Jerry Striker was sitting in the officer's lounge talking to Andrew.

"So I suggest my forces are going to surround the enemy by using paratroopers to take them by suprise from the back. How about you?", said Captain Striker.

"Well..." said Andrew, thinking about his recent mission to 101st Paratroopers, responded. "It seems like a good idea. I just plan to fly around and do as much as I can with my plane, a P-47. She's my old girl." He smiled. "What's your name anyway? I'm Andrew da Vincho, son of Premier Lord Gregory da Vincho of Kenavt. I was serving on our TSS Chase carrier wing."

"... the kenavtians are sending their lord to the front lines? And I'm Captain Jerry Striker of the 506th Regiment. I fly a P-51. I custimized the wings and frame to hold more fuel and ammuntion", Said Striker.

Center for Intelligence, Undisclosed Location, Resqwandi

Decoding...

Decoding...

Decoding...

Decoding...

Decoded!

Would you like to view the document? [y/n] y







TO: NATIONS OF THE WORLD
FROM: THE UNITED KINGDOM OF USTIO NORTH
RE: WAR

Dear Sir/Madam,
No doubt you have heard about the current situation between Kulikovia and Imperial Fungi. While we have been reluctant to commit our military forces, Fungi desperately needs help. Therefore, i propose that we form a secret squadron from our best pilots to go and help them fight and bolster their morale. If you agree with this idea, send your best pilot to Cockleshell Beach Airbase in Ustio on 24th february of this year.

We eagerly await your arrival

Signed,
Wintson Kennedy,
Ustian Minister For Defence


The tech skimmed through the document, and figured this was for eyes more highly ranked, and militarized than his. He turned around to the radial desk in the center of the room, the one used for practically everything.

"Hey Jacobs? Get General Razza on the line. It's a bit of an emergency. Transfer the line to the phone at my desk please."

"I'm on it. What's so important?"

"I don't think I can tell you just yet."

"Ok."

It went silent for a couple minutes, with the tech reading through the heavily encrypted letter again. Some of the data had been lost, but the message was clear. They were to aid in war, to get involved. Resqwandi was just recovering from their own civil war, and this was going to be a problem. As he reached the end, he realized what they really wanted. They wanted their best pilot. Nobody sprung to mind, the tech wasn't very familiar with the Air Force.

Maybe the famous ones...66th? No...ah, whatever.

"Hey, got him! Line 6, Brian." came the voice from behind him, derailing his though process.

"Ok, I don't want to keep him waiting."

The tech held down the six on the phone, and pulled the reciever to his ear.

"What is the major malfunction down there! It's nearly 1 AM!" came the slightly accented voice of a southern Resqwandian

"General Razza, I assume you're aware of the situation in Imperial Fungi?"

The angry tone suddenly got a lot quieter.

"The Kulikovian invasion? Yes. But I'd like to stress that we can't do anything. We're short on troops, and equipment. It just can't be done."

"Well, sir, we just got an encrypted letter today that said-"

He was cut off.

"From who?" suspicion had now creeped into the general's voice.

"Ustio North. They're not really allies, but nothing inflammatory has happened with them. Anyway, they asked for anyone's assitance in an idea of theirs. A squad of the world's best pilots, to aid Imperial Fungi. I take it from the tone of the letter that it's a secret operation."

"That's all it said? No specifics? Where to go? When? Specific tasks?"

"Actually sir, it said the equivalent of saying yes is showing up with your best pilot at...uh..." He checked the letter again "Cockleshell Beach Airbase, on February 24th."

"Well, tomorrow, when I'm conscious I'll hold a meeting with the Air Marshall, and we'll go from there. Thank you for the info."

"No problem si-" He was cut off once again

"Not for the timing."

*click*

With his hat down on his face, Eric Shelby slept on the warm sand, a cold beer in his left hand. He was on vacation, and a damn well deserved one, too. With his squadron's record of 45 kills, 120 probables, and 4 losses, he figured they all deserved a vacation. He brought the beer to his lips, and let the cool liquid slide down his throat. It was a shame, because now, after that night, the thought of alcohol sends him into shivers.

He closed his eyes once again, and just as he was falling asleep, a helicopter shook him awake, the rotors sending sand everywhere from here to high hell. He spilled his beer. Now that made him angry.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" He screamed.

Two nervous-looking enlists jumped out of the helo and came to him. He was torn between comforting them and punching them.

"Uh...sir? Air Marshall Mathias wants to talk to you. It's urgent." said one of them, his voice quivering.

"It better be." grumbled Shelby, putting on his officer's cap and standing up.

As he neared the helicopter, he drew his breath sharply. There, in the flesh, was Air Marshall Mathias. For a second, Shelby had thought it was all a joke. But the grim expression on Mathias's face turned that theory upside down right quick.

He approached the helicopter.

"Sir!" he proclaimed over the whirring blades, putting two fingers to his temple, the Resqwandi Air Force salute.

"Get in. We have something of national urgency that needs to be taken care of. By you, and you alone."

Eric hopped into the open doors, waited for the enlists, and shut them, drowning out the sounds of the blades. He immediately felt the helicopter lift up.

The Air Marshall looked dead serious.

"Ok, while on your 2 month vacation, in case you didn't know already, Kulikovia launched a full-scale invasion on Imperial Fungi, and Fungi's losing. Badly."

Eric had heard of this, but he dismissed it quickly.

"A few days ago, we got a heavily encrypted message from Ustio North, suggesting an aid force."

Eric interjected, "But we can't spare any forces, and my men are spent!"

"Calm down, Shelby. Their idea was this: Numerous countries provide a single pilot. Their best. You're our best Eric. Do you accept?"

"For the sake of our country and theirs, I do, sir." He was kind of ashamed at his earlier outburst.

"Good. Now you must go to Cockleshell Beach, Ustio North on February 24th. That gives you 2 weeks to train and prepare. Be warned, none of your hotshot shit is going to work here, this is going to be intense, and you'll be put up against Kulikovian pilots, who are some of the best. Now, daily practice with your squad..."

The rest was drowned out by the blades whirring through the air.

"One of our planes was missing,
Two hours overdue.
Oh, one of our planes was missing ,
With all its gallant crew,
The radio sets were humming,
We waited for a word,
Then a noise broke ,
Through the humming and this is what we heard!

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer," The rather poor musical attempt at singing thankfully trailed off as the singer turned his attention to the folded map on his kneeboard. He looked up and out of the cockpit of his twin-boomed Lockheed P-38 Lightning at the coast passing below.

He banked to the left and then the right in a gentle S to get a full picture of the coastline. He continued to hum the tune as he ran a gloved finger over the squiggly line representing the coast that he was flying over at the moment. He made a slight adjust to starboard to put himself on a straight line for the aerodrome at Cockleshell.

As the pilot, Flight Lieutenant Matthew Quiggles, looked over wide, majestic wings and twin tails of his Lightning, he smiled broadly to himself. This had worked better than he'd thought possible. Those Fungi...Fungian...Fungite...what ever they called themselves, those expatriates had come through and thrown all sorts of strangely colored so-called money at him. The P-38 was just a part of that. Strictly, they owned it, and figuratively him based on their contract, but with the bounty they would reward him for confirmed victories, he estimated by the time his required duty was up, he'd have more than enough to buy the Lightning from them and have some left over. Now, he'd just have to figure out if Togovia would allow him to have his own Warbird...

Quiggles pushed that thought aside as he spotted the cement runway, which was impressive because his Air Corps squadron had always flown from grass and dirt field claimed by brute force and hatchets from the jungle. He turned into the landing pattern, and reached up squeezing his throat microphone to call the aerodrome over his radio. "Cockleshell, Cockleshell, this is Togovian Lockheed Papa Tree Eight, requesting clearance to land at your field."

As he waited for a response, another song drifted into his head.

"Crying "Cockles and Mussels alive, alive O!
Alive, alive O! Alive, alive O!
Crying Cockles and Mussels Alive, alive O!"

By the grace of all that is holy, only his instruments were there to be tortured, and his altimeter gauge was already falling.

Eric slept in the uncomfortable cot, his back ache being exacerbated by it. He dreamed of his father, teaching him how to fly. His first day in the plane, how he almost flew it right into a tree. He had a thin smile on his face as he dreamed.

"Eric...it's time." came a whispered voice, accompanied by a tap to the shoulder.

He sat straight up, the rush to his head helping him wake up.

"Yes sir." he replied hushedly.

He pulled away the covers, revealing he was wearing a full flight suit. This had been planned 2 months ago, the secret "disappearance" of 55th Captain Eric Shelby. He was to take his J2M, it was faster on the climb, and seemed to suck up fuel less. He was reluctant to leave the Cobra behind. It was his baby. But, duty calls.

The Air Marshall's face looked into his.

"You remember the plan right?"

"Yes, sir. Fly high, stay hidden, and head to Cockleshell Beach. When I land, which should be at about 12 AM tomorrow, the date we're to arrive, I'm to wire you a telegram saying I made it, and give you an update."

"Good. I filled the tank myself, with enough fuel to get there. Not back. That means no stopping. If you do, you're SOL, Eric."

"Yes, sir."

The Air Marshall felt a sudden impulse to hug him. He settled with a handshake and a salute.

"Even though your country doesn't know about it yet, you're a hero. You and a few others are going to save a country in dire need. I'll see to it myself that you get the Air Force Cross when you get back. And you will get back. Good fight, good flight." Came the motto of the Resqwandi Air Force.

The two saluted each other, and Eric spun on his heel, jogged to the plane, and stopped. He stared up at the clear skies.

Perfect night...

He thought contentedly. He propped open the canopy, and climbed in. His trusty helmet was on the seat waiting for him. He popped it on, and flicked the switch, starting up the engine. He pulled on the throttle lever slightly, and pushed down the left rudder pedal, taxiing onto the runway. Before closing the canopy, he stuck his hand out of the window, in a thumbs up.

He pulled the canopy down, gradually easing up on the throttle. He reached for the yoke with his other hand, and pulled it back, easing the aircraft into the air. He banked 30 degrees east, the heading he was given to Ustio North. The plane continued to pick up speed for a while, and Eric continued easing the yoke backwards. Finally, he let the yoke center, and the plane leveled out. He remained steady on the throttle, and gazed up at the stars. It really was a beautiful night, and Eric felt like he was one among the millions of stars out there.

The Fungi Master walked up in the bunker as his generals gathered in the bunker. The map of Fungi was rolled out as the escorts guarded the enterance. The room was quiet as the Master Fungi gave its report.

"We've lost communications with the outside world just moments ago," started the air force commander. "We sent out a signal but we haven't being informed about anything. We suspect that there's going to be an attack soon. Our re-production circle has increased but the number of troops is just doubling,"

"The Lynion fighter pilot Sonic can help with communications," started the army general. "The Lynion's have given us arms, battle tanks and more equipment. Our Dragonflies and Hawks won't be able to hold the skies forever if an attack comes,"

"Then we must prepare ourselves," butted in the Fungi Master. "Hold all lines and get Sonic to get a transmission out,"

TO: World Leaders
FROM: Commander Sonic, representive of Imperial Fungi

This is an SOS out to an friendly nations out there! Imperial Fungi boarders have being crashed wide open and we can't hold out forever! If you've intercepted this telegram, then please respond.


Fungi City, Capital of Imperial Fungi

Spider Tanks had gathered around the capital as enemy forces were drawing onto the capital. With defense's at a high rate, it was a matter of time before enemy forces attacked the capital. Minator's and Octopus's scrambled around as the minator's took up position. The day was nigh and the seige of the capital was dawning on them.

Cocklshell Beach Airbase

Pilot Jerry Striker was sitting in the officer's lounge talking to Andrew.

"So my forces are going to surround the enemy by using paratroopers to take them by suprise from the back. How about you?", said Captain Striker.

OOC: I should probabaly take the time to say that Cockleshell Beach AFB is in Ustio not Fungi

IC: Hal woke to the sound of engines. That was normal at Cockleshell. It operated several other squadrons besides the Ragtags, with aircraft ranging from L-5 Stinston Recon planes to B-17 Heavy Bombers.

However, as he left the barracks some time later, he was surprised to see several aircraft that were not of Ustian origin. A P-38 Lightning in Togovian colours, a P-47 in Kenavt colours.

As he continued along the flight line, he came to a green and silver P-47 (http://www.simviation.com/members/pageimages/butch11_2.jpg). It was a D-25 version, with a bubble canopy. It had yellow and black chequered tail and engine cowl. Further down the engine, there was some nose art on the plane - "Buthc II" - painted in yellow. He checked the plane over as he always did, then put his leather flying jacket into the cockpit. He wouldn't need it here, but he didn't know what Fungi would be like - better safe than sorry.

KPAF Field Headquarters

Field Marshal Dimitri Gregov stepped into the command room of his headquarters. Inside, a line of generals and their aides ringed the table, standing at attention, eyes straight and bodies rigid. Gregov had a commanding presence. Standing at over six foot, steely eyes, and a bulldog voice. He was famous for his explosive temper but respected for being a seasoned and competent commander.

"At ease, take your seats" Gergov commanded and they all obeyed, "As you all know we have completed most of our primary objectives all across the front. Fungi defenses are beginning to falter under our constant pressure. I am ordering three fresh divisions into Central Command, make good use of them General Kerlenko"

"Yes sir, I know exactly what I'll use them for" Kerlenko nodded.

"Excellent, for the past month we've demonstarted our superior numbers and tactics but the Fungi continue to resist. We are in a race against time. The more desperate their situation becomes, the more international attention to their plight they recieve. So, we must end this now before these other nations do more than send ammunition and medical supplies" Gregov continued, clasping his hands together.

"With the added three divisions we could breakthrough and enter the capital." Kerlenko added, "The fact that we already have near total air superiority should ensure a successful attack"

"Indeed" Gregov agreed, "But I think those three fresh divisions could be put to another use" he stood up and walked over the a wall map, "The 5th Army is the closest to the capital. We are going to launch an offensive across the whole line, simultaneously. These three divisions of the Revolutionary Guard are going to spearhead the offensive just north of the 5th. They will serve as our "main force" or so they will believe so. As they draw resources and men north. A short yet massive artillery and aerial bombardment will commence on these spots here and a general advance will follow suite."

"A brilliant plan!" one General commented. The others nodded and discussed amoung themselves.

"Naturally, they will need air cover as to ensure they stay intact long enough until the main offensive begins. That s why I want you, General Novensky to send your best air squadrons to protect them"

"Understood...I have the right sqaudrons in mind" Novensky replied.

The Fungi Master made contact with Sonic again.

"Sonic, if you can hear me, its getting worse," started the Fungi Master. "The enemy is pushing us back to the capital and we can't hold out forever, I want you to call our ally and ask them for help,"

"I was about to call you sir," came back a deathly voice. "I've got a response from Lynion, they're willing to dispatch troops in the next few days but in the mean time, two fighter squadrons of P51-Mustang's are being sent,"

Fungi Master gave a sigh of joy. They were getting support from the nation across the ocean but it was going to take time. However as officers heard the conversations and spread it around, morale were already climbing and a sign of hope could be seen on the horizon.

"I'll be coming back with the squadrons in several hours," replied Sonic. "Don't worry sir, support is coming,"

At about 1100 hours, Eric finally saw Cockleshell Beach. It was an impressive sight, to be sure. There was a large hangar, probably with a capacity of about 50 small planes, and a long runway. Obviously, the base wasn't just used for fighters. Only something like a B-24 or a B-17 would need such a long strip. He was coming in the wrong way it seemed, the base was on his side, not the other end of the runway.

He decided to have some fun, and show off a little. He got to the other end of the runway, started into an Immelman turn, and added about 4 extra loops, as well as a barrel roll to get back on track with the runway. He eased the nose down, and pulled the throttle lever backwards steadily.

The plane landed, the wheels bouncing twice on the hot asphalt, then sticking down. Eric finally pulled off the throttle entirely, and let the plane come to a stop on its own. By then he was right in front of the hangar.

His eye, keen to spatial relationships (he was a fighter after all), quickly found a spot, and he taxied the plane into it. He propped open the canopy, and hopped out. His legs were pretty stiff, so he jumped around a bit. He took off his helmet, stowed it on the seat, and shut the canopy again.

He looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone there.

Hmm...odd. He thought. He figured he'd wait to be greeted.

OOC: I should probabaly take the time to say that Cockleshell Beach AFB is in Ustio not Fungi



OOC: I know I thought it was the meeting place

After completing his song and moving onto other Irish folksongs while waiting for a reply over the radio, he saw a smaller fighter zip under him. He rolled his Lightning over to get a look at it. It looked vaguely Japanese, perhaps that new J2M Raiden, or 'Jack' as the Yanks were calling it.

The Jack slipped right into final and landed, bouncing along the runway. Either Cockleshell was an uncontrolled field, or he was on the wrong radio channel. He was willing to bet it was the later. The expatriates that had signed him up for this hadn't been the most knowledgable of liasons.

Quiggles glanced down at his fuel gauges which had near fainted either from his singing or his repeated circling of the field. He turned the P-38 onto final and lowered his landing gear. As he lined up, he unconsciously stuck his tongue out as he concentrated on landing.

This would be new and interesting. The P-38 has tricycle landing gear instead of his old Kittyhawk's taildragger setup. He'd need to hold in a bit more on the throttles to avoid coming down hard on his foward wheel lest it snap under all the weight and he cartwheel explosively down the runway.

He decided that was not the course of action or first impression he wanted to make, so he made sure to be mindful of his pitch. The landing wasn't the best he'd done but satisfactory considering he'd only done a handful of them before coming to Ustio.

He cut power as he bounced and then rolled down the runway, bleeding off speed until he finally applied the brakes. He throttled up his port engine to turn him sharply to starboard and then brought it back a bit and gave his starboard engine a little more power to allow him to taxi off the active runway. His engines whummpfed-whummpfed quietly in a muffled manner as he taxied towards a where he thought the international pilots were parked.

That wasn't too difficult to determine. It was a small hodgepodge of pursuit aircraft with paint schemes that suggested a color blind group of Richthofen's Flying Circus enthusiasts. Not that he could or should complain. The Togovian Colonial Authority had demanded he paint his Lightning a garish orange with green and white roundels with a pouncing yellow shrew in the middle, this was the traditional colors and symbols of the Togovian Empire.

He spun the Lightning into a spot near by the small Jack that had just stopped itself. Quiggles shut down his engines and went through his post-landing checklist before unstrapping himself and pushing back the canopy. He stretched, feeling joints pop and muscles groan from the long flight and too infrequent stops. He nearly fell out of the cockpit as he lowered himself onto the wing and slid off.

Quiggles stretched again and waved to the Jack pilot who was waiting beside his plain. "Hullo there! I say, have they opened their officer's club yet?"

At about 1100 hours, Eric finally saw Cockleshell Beach. It was an impressive sight, to be sure. There was a large hangar, probably with a capacity of about 50 small planes, and a long runway. Obviously, the base wasn't just used for fighters. Only something like a B-24 or a B-17 would need such a long strip. He was coming in the wrong way it seemed, the base was on his side, not the other end of the runway.

He decided to have some fun, and show off a little. He got to the other end of the runway, started into an Immelman turn, and added about 4 extra loops, as well as a barrel roll to get back on track with the runway. He eased the nose down, and pulled the throttle lever backwards steadily.

The plane landed, the wheels bouncing twice on the hot asphalt, then sticking down. Eric finally pulled off the throttle entirely, and let the plane come to a stop on its own. By then he was right in front of the hangar.

His eye, keen to spatial relationships (he was a fighter after all), quickly found a spot, and he taxied the plane into it. He propped open the canopy, and hopped out. His legs were pretty stiff, so he jumped around a bit. He took off his helmet, stowed it on the seat, and shut the canopy again.

He looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone there.

Hmm...odd. He thought. He figured he'd wait to be greeted.

Hal was walking back from his P-47, having checked it over himself. As he walked towards the mess hall, he spotted more aircraft had landed and were parked along the flight line. He walked a bit further and spotted two pilots standing next to a Zero and a Lightning, looking a little lost

"Hey there" he said to them as he got closer "Can I help you?"

Matthew turned before J2M Raiden (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Mitsubishi_J2M.JPG) pilot could answer his dire question about the status of the officer's club. "Hullo there, friend." He glanced past the new comer to the P-47 in Ustio livery he'd just left. "Ah, good, a native. Sir, could you tell me if your officer's club is open?"

"... the kenavtians are sending their lord to the front lines? And I'm Captain Jerry Striker of the 506th Regiment. I fly a P-51. I custimized the wings and frame to hold more fuel and ammuntion", Said Striker.

OOC: Kenavtans, no I.

IC:

"Well... Lord is my father's title, but nowadays you could say a tenth of the country could have titles, almost. However, they're only good if you're going to impress someone. A P-51, eh? That's a rather small craft, but nimble... and you've customized it?" Andrew thought back to the tales he had heard about the nation of 101st Paratroopers. Them being a neighbor of Kenavt, he heard a lot, mainly that once men got into the armed forces, they were there for life, death, or retirement. Their economy only kept on going through the graces of the Confederacy. The Captain would have had his whole life savings to use to customize the craft.

"I haven't done anything with my girl yet," Andrew stated. "She's a P-47... D, I think. Right as rain. I could probably use fixing her up a bit, my dad has the money for the supplies. Plus, when I retire, I get to keep her."

He heard saw some people talking through the glass door in the hangar. "Look, there's some new arrivals." He opened the door, holding it for Striker.

Andrew walked up. "Hi. I'm Andrew. This is my compatriot Striker."

Matthew turned before J2M Raiden (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Mitsubishi_J2M.JPG) pilot could answer his dire question about the status of the officer's club. "Hullo there, friend." He glanced past the new comer to the P-47 in Ustio livery he'd just left. "Ah, good, a native. Sir, could you tell me if your officer's club is open?"

"Yes, it is" replied Hal "It's that white building over there"

He pointed to a white-washed building behind the conrtol tower, before turning to the Raiden pilot

"You guys here about the war?" he asked them

OOC: I preffer comrade

Striker looked at the one of the men who Andrew was talking to and reconized the uniform to be Catawabanian another to be thier flight leader and the last to be Resqwandian.

"Hullo guys, how are you?" he asked.

"Well, what else would we be here for?" Andrew asked. "Hi, I'm Andrew da Vincho."

"Well guys, lets go get some drinks. Shall we?", said Jerry.

"Well, what else would we be here for?" Andrew asked. "Hi, I'm Andrew da Vincho."

"Good point" he said, offering his hand "Squadron Leader Hal Winters, pleased to meet you"

"Good point" he said, offering his hand "Squadron Leader Hal Winters, pleased to meet you"

"Oh, you're the squad leader." Andrew appraised him and shook his hand. He seemed like a good guy. "I'm a lieutenant back at home-haven't gotten promoted yet. Do you know what our first mission will be?"

"Oh, you're the squad leader." Andrew appraised him and shook his hand. He seemed like a good guy. "I'm a lieutenant back at home-haven't gotten promoted yet. Do you know what our first mission will be?"

"I'm afraid i don't yet" Hal replied "I'm just a pilot here. Chances are there'll be a dedicated Commander on the way here as we speak"

He paused a moment to take a cigar case out of his uniform pocket

"Though i'd guess our first mission is to get to Imperial Fungi without being shot down"

"Just a test flight?" Andrew asked, disappointed. Oh well, I guess we have to get used to the surroundings. "So, what do you fly?"

"Just a test flight?" Andrew asked, disappointed. Oh well, I guess we have to get used to the surroundings. "So, what do you fly?"

"Well, normally I fly a P-40E like the rest of the Ragtags" Hal said, taking a cigar from the case and lighting it with a zippo lighter

"But since it's a government aircraft, i'm not allowed to take it to Fungi, so i'm flying a P-47D-25. It's down there"

He pointed to the green and silver camoflaged Thunderbolt

"What about you?" he asked, exhaling smoke away from the others

The Catawaban stepped forward and offered his hand to Winters. "Flight Leftenant Matthew Quiggles, sir. That garish Lightning in need of some better paint is my chariot." He jerked his head to the orange P-38.

"Well, normally I fly a P-40E like the rest of the Ragtags" Hal said, taking a cigar from the case and lighting it with a zippo lighter

"But since it's a government aircraft, i'm not allowed to take it to Fungi, so i'm flying a P-47D-25. It's down there"

He pointed to the green and silver camoflaged Thunderbolt

"What about you?" he asked, exhaling smoke away from the others

"I just got a P-47... D, I think-down there in the Kenavt colors. I was one of the first to get her because of my father..." he paused. "She's a good craft-definitely an upgrade from the P-40. I plan to do some work on her, but I just got her a month or so ago.

"I fly a P-51D Mustang," said Striker. "It's pretty fast, manuverable, and has a great tank for gas. And that was before I customized it. You see, I'm going to fly my baby for a couple of years, until the next great plane comes out. My government will be right on getting some, and I'll probably be first in line."

Eric was waiting for their brief exchange to end.

"Well, from what I've been briefed on, Kulikovia is pretty much dominating the skies over there, so they probably won't have a lot of AA emplacements. However, they have some damn good pilots. Anyway, I'm glad to be here. Eric Shelby, Resqwandi Air Force."

He extended his hand.

"I fly that Raiden right behind me. Well built, I think it's the 6 model. It's the only one in existence, I think. Found it right after it was produced. Climbs real smooth, real fast, and it's great in a dogfight, what with those 4 guns. She's my baby. Along with a KingCobra that isn't as good for what we're trying to accomplish."

"I haven't really heard much about the Raidens," said Andrew, biting his lip and thinking. "Does she fly well?" He didn't know if the hand Eric had extended was for him or not.

Eric put his hand down.

"Well, this one does. The one drawback, is its not the most manuverable thing in the sky. The original models weren't great on visibility either, but as you can see, this model has a bubble canopy. She's damn fast on the climb, and in general. I can about outfight the old Corsairs, and they're nice planes in themselves. I used to fly a Zero, but they're actually not so great."

Eric put his hand down.

"Well, this one does. The one drawback, is its not the most manuverable thing in the sky. The original models weren't great on visibility either, but as you can see, this model has a bubble canopy. She's damn fast on the climb, and in general. I can about outfight the old Corsairs, and they're nice planes in themselves. I used to fly a Zero, but they're actually not so great."

"The Zero eh. Yeah nice plane but it lacks armor and is to easy to get shot down. Personally I'm thinking about buying a new TBM Avenger", said Striker with amusment.

Quiggles turned a raised eyebrow on the P-51 pilot. "Pray tell us where you plan to find that sort of funding, Striker."

Shelby raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed. And, as is the nature of fighters in general, they have pretty thin armor. I was referring to the fact that they were slow in turning, and easy to be intercepted horizontally. So, are you that rich, or does the military just spoil you?"

Sonic's plane came overhead as he found the airfield quite easily. He focused the nose down as he prepared to land. He wasn't going to bother with the requests as he was starting to get concerned about the crisis in Fungi. He landed his P-51 Mustang as he taxied it along the runway before getting out.

'Better find these Aces and get them to Fungi before the war ends,' thought Sonic to himself.

One of the crew chiefs ran up to Winters

"Sir, the General told me to tell you that your schedule has changed. You won't be flying straight to Imperial Fungi. He's in the briefing room now"

"Okay" said Winters, turning to the others "We'd better see what this is about"

He turned and headed off toward the briefing room.

Shelby raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed. And, as is the nature of fighters in general, they have pretty thin armor. I was referring to the fact that they were slow in turning, and easy to be intercepted horizontally. So, are you that rich, or does the military just spoil you?"

Andrew couldn't help but laugh. Of course, he had grown up next to the 101st, and heard a lot of rumours about them-and some of them WERE true.

"If I could help you out here," he began, "Striker, as soon as possible, was inducted into the armed forces of the 101st Paratroopers nation. They are highly militaristic, as you could guess by the name, so members of their armed forces have to stay in them for life, death, or until retirement. So, most of their salary they have no use for, except upgrades to their equipment so they don't kick the bucket. And I'm sure that New Curahee, their capital, pays them well."

One of the crew chiefs ran up to Winters

"Sir, the General told me to tell you that your schedule has changed. You won't be flying straight to Imperial Fungi. He's in the briefing room now"

"Okay" said Winters, turning to the others "We'd better see what this is about"

He turned and headed off toward the briefing room.

"Is the meeting for all of us?" Andrew asked.

"Is the meeting for all of us?" Andrew asked.

"I guess so" Hal replied "C'mon, i'll show you where the briefing room is"

Sonic followed the group close behind as he watched as a Hawk landed on the airfield.

"Easy boy, I'll be back with the unit," stated Sonic.

He came up to the nearest man and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You guys must be the squadron Fungi is expecting?" asked Sonic.

Sonic followed the group close behind as he watched as a Hawk landed on the airfield.

"Easy boy, I'll be back with the unit," stated Sonic.

He came up to the nearest man and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You guys must be the squadron Fungi is expecting?" asked Sonic.

"Yeah, that's us" said Winters "We were due to fly out there in an hour, but i've just been told there's been a schedule change. We're just going to find out what it is"

"What do you mean there's a change?" snapped Sonic as he stopped the person. "I've just come from Fungi and those bastards are nearly at the capital. Why does every blasted nation need a red tap to go through an operation?"

"What do you mean there's a change?" snapped Sonic as he stopped the person. "I've just come from Fungi and those bastards are nearly at the capital. Why does every blasted nation need a red tap to go through an operation?"

While Winters and Sonic had been conversing, General Mathiass emerged from around the corner. He walked up to the group.

"Ah, there you are" he said "You've got a change of route. We just received word that the Kulikovians are moving a column of artillery to barrage the Fungian capital. I've got the ground crews loading up your planes now"

He looked around at the group

"You're to hit the artillery on your way to the Fungi airbase. With a bit of luck, it should damage the Kulikovian offensive on the capital pretty badly. Once all the aircraft are loaded, you should get going"

Winters turned to Sonic

"Well, there's your answer" he said

"Sounds like the best idea I've heard," said the Hawk as it came over as it stood 20 foot high.

Sonic looked at the Hawk before turning back to the general. The hawk came over to the three as it looked down on them.

"That's the second best news I've heard today," smiled Sonic. "That's Commander Flacon of the 3rd Fungi Squadron and yes they're all mutated Hawks standing 20 foot high and incredible strength,"

"Sounds like the best idea I've heard," said the Hawk as it came over as it stood 20 foot high.

Sonic looked at the Hawk before turning back to the general. The hawk came over to the three as it looked down on them.

"That's the second best news I've heard today," smiled Sonic. "That's Commander Flacon of the 3rd Fungi Squadron and yes they're all mutated Hawks standing 20 foot high and incredible strength,"

"That's...impressive" said Winters, stunned by the 20 foot Hawk

"Well, we'd better get ready" he turned to Sonic "Um, sorry but I didn't catch your name"

"My name is Sky Captain Sonic of the 3rd Lynion Ace Squadron sent to help the Fungi until the Lynion's can dispatch an army corps to aid the Fungi," replied Sonic.

"How soon until we go?" asked the Hawk as it bowed its head towards the Humans and looked them in the eye.

"My name is Sky Captain Sonic of the 3rd Lynion Ace Squadron sent to help the Fungi until the Lynion's can dispatch an army corps to aid the Fungi," replied Sonic.

"How soon until we go?" asked the Hawk as it bowed its head towards the Humans and looked them in the eye.

"As soon as the planes are fully loaded" Hal said to the hawk, before turning to Sonic

"Well, we'd best get ready to go"

With that, he jogged off down to his P-47 to check how long before it was ready.

As he arrived, he saw several crew members standing around it, spanners and other tools strew on the ground nearby.

"What's going on?" Hal asked as he got closer

"It won't start" said one of the engineers "And we can't figure out why"

"What!?" said Winters, exastperated "We've got a target to hit soon!"

He looked around, worried, then pointed to a dull grey Spitfire Mk.XII (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supermarine_Spitfire_(late_Merlin_powered_variants)#Mk.C2.A0XII_.28type_366.29) sat in the hangar nearby

"Load my weapons onto that" he said to them "I'll fly that"

"Umm...are you sure, sir?" asked the engineer tentatively

"I'll take responsibility if anyone asks" he said "Get it done, and get it done quick"

"Uh, okay sir" replied the engineer, passing the word out to the rest of the crew, who scurried to a nearby jeep and drove off towards the hangar, towing a trailer with bombs on it behind them.

Hal grabbed his coat and flying helmet from the stricken P-47, and walked off after them.

Shelby raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed. And, as is the nature of fighters in general, they have pretty thin armor. I was referring to the fact that they were slow in turning, and easy to be intercepted horizontally. So, are you that rich, or does the military just spoil you?"

"Yeah our military is the top class and gets all the new planes. Also the TBM has alot of armor", Said Striker.

"The TBM also flies a gut-wounded cow. I only heard of one man who's been able to use it correctly in a dogfight. Everyone else dies when you bring a TBM to a dogfight." Quiggles answered harshly. Perhaps it was harsher than he meant due the surprise as he turned around and saw that mechanics, armourers, and fuel trucks where swarming over the the line of foriegn fighters, including his P-38.

He followed the Ustio pilot towards the line of fighters. "Damn, too soon." He'd hoped to be able to rest a bit before another long flight. He'd also hoped to get this blasted eyesore repainted. He waved linecrew starting to work on his plain.

A fuelman on the wing stopped and jerked back from the cockpit he'd been peeking into when an explosion of angry yaps came at him. The fuelman looked up at the waving pilot. "Hellfire, buddy, something got in your cockpit. Damned ugliest rat dog I've..."

Quiggles cut him off and snapped up at the airman. "Don't say one more word, Airman. That is ratdog is Ah'ron, a pure blood vornskr pup, and mine." The fuelman was visibly cowed. "Now, finish your duty." The fuelman murmured a 'yes, sir' and went about his work.

One of the armourers finished checking the nose cowl which held the quad .50caliber machines guns and the vicious 20mm cannon. All five guns were already full of ammunition. There was no way in hell he was going to have made the transit here from Catawaban unarmed. The armourer toggled down the cowl again and waved the rest of his crew foward with the carts carrying bombs. At this Quiggles shook his head. "No bombs, Sargeant. I've got enough weight with my droptanks and no more hard points. I'm sure I'll need my droptanks more."

While the fuelman had called him 'buddy' out of foolishness, the sargeant did it because he was a power but to God or a Chief Master Sargeant, which ever came first. "So ya tink yer going to go in dhere wit just guns, buddy?"

Quiggles shook his head. "Rockets, ten five-inch rockets on the outsides of the wings."

The sargeant gave the flight leftenant a smirk, so the pilot wasn't entirely crazy. "Gotcha, kid." Quiggles bristled on the nickname. "Ya know yer port droptank ain't connected, kid."

Quiggles snorted and moved to the Togovian shrew roundel on the underside of this starboard wing. "That's because it isn't a droptank." He left it at that as he ripped the roundel, merely stuck on with tape. He strictly shouldn't fly into a combat zone as a Togovian aircraft. The Togovian Colonial Viceroy didn't want his goolies on the block if Kulikovians cried foul.

That was good, becuase Quiggles didn't want to fly as a Togovian. He was his own man now.

Quiggles turned a raised eyebrow on the P-51 pilot. "Pray tell us where you plan to find that sort of funding, Striker."

"The goverment funding for the military is quite large. We have national pride in our military. How about you?" said Striker.

Quiggles looked at the crumpled up Togovian shrew roundel in his hand before tossing it to the wind. "Oh, we have a great deal pride."

He climbed up on the wing and reached into the cockpit pulled out what looked like a bigger greyhound puppy with a long rat-like tail that ended in a knob. "Sorry, old chap. It's a bit of a hub turn. I'm sure you'll understand, even if you don't like it. He walked along the wing and bent down to rip the Togovian roundel off.

He walked back to the wing root and jumped down. "Have a bit of a constitutional and do your business, Ah'ron." He sent the puppy down and then threw the roundel to the ground. Little Ah'ron promptly bounded over to it, sniffed it, and after a moment's thought circled around and lefted a hind leg. Quiggles gave a snort of amusement as he ducked under the boom tails to walk to the other wing and the remaining roundel.

The puppy finished desecrating the national symbol and bounded after his master. Quiggles's face lit up with a smile. "Yes, a great deal of pride."

Sonic watched them as he turned to the Hawk.

"Good boy," smiled Sonic. "Now, we'll be going soon so I better get my things done,"

"These Humans seemed to know what they're doing," replied the Hawk.

Sonic wnet over to his P-51 Mustang which was coloured in flames and a werewolves jaw at the front with open jaw and blood streaming from its teeth. The hawk sighed as it watched the over planes start to take off.

Andrew couldn't help but catch the exchanges. Everyone seems ready to get off-except Captain's flying a Spitfire? He couldn't help send a weird glance into his direction. Walking up to his plane, Andrew paused, looking at her. Will this be the last time... He stroked her fuselage tenderly. But then he popped back into reality.

"Excuse me!" Some crew members came over. "Could I please have ammunition for my guns, around a thousand pounds in assorted bombs, and ten 5 inch unguided rockets?" While they were doing that, he walked over to Winters.

"Sir, are you flying a Spitfire? It's a fair plane, but what happened to your P-47?" And then he remembered the true reason he came over. "And... will you be navigating us to the artillery targets?

Andrew couldn't help but catch the exchanges. Everyone seems ready to get off-except Captain's flying a Spitfire? He couldn't help send a weird glance into his direction. Walking up to his plane, Andrew paused, looking at her. Will this be the last time... He stroked her fuselage tenderly. But then he popped back into reality.

"Excuse me!" Some crew members came over. "Could I please have ammunition for my guns, around a thousand pounds in assorted bombs, and ten 5 inch unguided rockets?" While they were doing that, he walked over to Winters.

"Sir, are you flying a Spitfire? It's a fair plane, but what happened to your P-47?" And then he remembered the true reason he came over. "And... will you be navigating us to the artillery targets?

"The 47 is broke" said Winters, climbing up onto the wing of the Mk.XII "And, yes, i will be navigating us to the targets. I know where they'll be"

He climbed into the cockpit and sat down, checking switches and dials. What Andrew had said made him think about the P-47. He had to admit, he didn't like it that much. Sure, it could carry a massive payload for a single engine plane, and had eight 50. calibre machine guns. But it wasn't like the Spitfire, or the P-38, both of which Winters had logged some time in. The 47 didn't have the speed or grace of the Lightning or Spitfire. The Spitfire also had a history with the UAF. His father had flown the early Mk1's in the late 1930's

'Besides' he thought as he checked the flaps 'The 47 doesn't have a pair of 20mm cannons'

He laughed to himself about the exchange between Quiggles and Striker. Quiggles was right about the TBM Avenger, it did fly like a "gut-wounded cow", but then what can you expect from a torpedo bomber. The Avenger was, after all, a three seat naval bomber.

He pulled a small cloth map out of his flight suit pocket. It was a map of Fungi, which the general had given him earlier. He took a pen and marked the capital, then drew a line to the co-ordinates where the targets should be. He slipped the pen into his pocket, next to a holster for a Webley Mk IV pistol.

'Hope I won't need you' he thought about the gun.

OOC: And here, i present my evidence - LINK (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TBF_Avenger)

Shelby was silent throughout, trying to gather as much information as he could. He walked over to his plane, patted the nose, and hopped into the seat with practiced ease. He made sure everything was in order, and waited. This was going to be fun.

Seeing that some of the other pilots were ready, Winters decided to check his radio

"Tower, This Is Red Leader. Come in Tower" he said into the radio

"Roger Red Leader, go ahead" came a reply

"Tower, this is a radio check - Alpha Bravo Charlie Whiskey, Over" he said

"Read you loud and clear Red Leader, Over" replied the tower

"Roger, Over" he said, then deciding to see if the others were okay "This is Winters, how's everyone doing? Over"

"This is Sonic," stated Sonic into the radio as the Hawk squaked before taking off. "Seems our feather friend is ready to go,"

"Hey, I heard that," snapped the Hawk over the radio.

"Well, so am I" Hal said into his radio "But we'd better wait for the rest of them. The more damage we do, the better, eh?"

"Shelby, checking in. So, quick review on the plan?" Eric spoke into his radio

OOC: Sorry for not being around. My job and life were hectic but now I'm back

Battle Roads Air Base

The sprawling air base teemed with activity. sorties flew out hourly as ground crews refit and rearmed returning planes. It was early morning as the normal hum of engines buzzed and choked out dirt. Long rows of hangars stored equipment as refueling trucks darted across the access roads. The mechanisms of the air war machine moved with ease and skill. Since the war began, Kulikovian forces enjoyed air superiority over most of the skies. Pilots chalked up more and more kills, returning from successful raids and air escort missions for the bombers.

Lines of Kulikovian Yakolev Yak-3's awaited their tune ups and refits. Out of the Wolf's Den, the name given to the headquarters and barracks of the air bases best squadron-The Red Wolves; emerged their squadron leader, 1st Lt Stanislav Kazimirez. He stood at around 5'11'', hazel eyes and a rather stoic demeanour but a respected and revered ace of the Red Wolves.

"Sir, Colonel Revenov is here to speak with you?" Chief Mechanic Fyodor Relenkoff said as he came from under the wing of Kazimirez's Yak-3, nicknamed "Natasha".

"How's she looking?" Kazimirez asked, placing a hand along the wing and running his hand up it.

''Purring like a cat, I'd have to say" Relenkoff replied with a proud smile, "She'll be back up in the air in no time at all"

"Good" Kazimirez walked away and made his way to the squadron briefing room which was empty except for Colonel Revenov who admired the squadron photos lining the wall and the war trophies.

"1st Lt Stanislav Kazimirez, you wished to see me?" kazimirez asked at attention.

"At ease, comrade" Relenkoff waved his hand passively, "How is the health of your men?"

"They are eager to be put back into rotation, sir"

"I'm sure" Relenkoff took a seat, "As you know, we are a breath away from winning this war. Of course, the fat lady has not taken to the stage yet so we must continue fighting like our lives depend upon it. The Red Wolves will hunt again. There is a major offensive in the air and we need our best men in the air to give all the protection we need."

"The Red Wolves are more than capable. We just need the weather to cooperate more. Last week most of the sorties were cancelled"

"I know, luckily it did not affect much. Hopefully whenever the big wigs decide on a day we will have beautiful weather like today"

"Hey," started Sonic into the radio. "I'm going to go ahead and start heading to Imperial Fungi to mass their air force,"

The P-51 roared to life as Sonic taxied it along until he came to the runway. He didn't bothered with the control tower and started to take off. The Hawk followed his lead as Sonic took off from the runway and gained some speed as he pulled up the landing wheels and started for Fungi.

"Hey," started Sonic into the radio. "I'm going to go ahead and start heading to Imperial Fungi to mass their air force,"

The P-51 roared to life as Sonic taxied it along until he came to the runway. He didn't bothered with the control tower and started to take off. The Hawk followed his lead as Sonic took off from the runway and gained some speed as he pulled up the landing wheels and started for Fungi.

"Roger that Sonic, godspeed" said Hal, switching on the engine of the Spitfire. Its Rolls-Royce Griffon IV growled into life, smoke blasting out of the exhaust ports on the side of the engine

"The plan is to fly to the targets, which are not far from the capital, strike them and then fly to our operation airbase in Fungi to refuel, rearm and receive our next mission" he said to Eric over the radio.

"I'll see you in Fungi," replied Sonic as he flew with the Hawk back to Fungi.

Upon Arrival

Sonic arrived in Fungi as he was met with a Lynion squadron of P-51 Mustangs and a flight of Hawks.

"We've got allies coming soon," reported in Sonic as they landed on the airfield outside the capital. "we need to hold out until they arrive,"

Later that day, after a hot meal and a briefing, The Red Wolves were back in the air. The ground crews did last minute refits and the tower cleared them for takeoff. Only a portion of the squadron took off for patrol duties. The rest, were to stay behind and catch a breather. Kazimirez and his wingman, Yuri Bikar took off from the runway and floored their engines to parol level with the rest of the flyers coming up behind them.

The skies were clear and observations of the ground startling. It was a beautiful country. A stark landscape that could easily capture the imagination for anyone visiting. Kaz admitted to himself that he'd rather not be fighting this war. Unlike a predominate portion of his comrades, he didn't care much for the spread of Communism. Many saw it as a sworn duty of Kulikovia to bring freedom to workers as far as they could reach. Fungi was just the latest victim. Though, he dared not voice his opinions. Political officers and moles were everywhere within all levels of the military and civilian world. An utterance could have you followed and harassed. Any actual demonstrations or acts could get you black bagged.

"Lt, we're approaching Sector J5" radioed his wingman.

"Roger that-everyone maintain formation and keep your eyes peeled" Kaz said into the radio. Down below, the war raged in ugly fashion. They fought a more noble and clean war. They were free from the horrors of the ground war. Thousands of young men have died already but they are sacrifices for the greater good of the Communist Victory. He disagreed. With all the gauges and nobs, slit in a nice little area was a photo of a young woman, the real Natasha. She labored in a factory, having quit school to support the war effort like so many other civilians. Hed wrote as often as possible and cherished and kept every letter she sent him. Reading them over and over again.

Winters waved to the ground crew to remove the rubber chocks holding the aircraft in place. He eased the throttle to about half, and the dull grey fighter began to roll slowly forwards. He began to 'S' along the taxiway - nessessary, of course, as otherwise he couldn't see where he was going. He reached the end of the taxiway and waited for the others to catch up.

Andrew fired the P-47 up. "C'mon baby, show me what you got..." he muttered to himself as he prepared the plane.

It burst out of the hangar. "Slowly now..." Turning, he went down the taxiway, and gasped. That airstrip is SO LONG! Andrew was used to aircraft carriers. Then he heard the squawking over the radio.

"Andrew here, reporting, all instruments functional, raring to go." He sped up a little bit, revving his engine down the taxiway, pulling to a stop next to Winters. "So how's it going!" He yelled over the engine's noise.

He laughed to himself about the exchange between Quiggles and Striker. Quiggles was right about the TBM Avenger, it did fly like a "gut-wounded cow", but then what can you expect from a torpedo bomber. The Avenger was, after all, a three seat naval bomber.


As Quiggles sat in his P-38's cockpit, he absented mindedly scratched Ah'ron's belly while he thought. He'd been wrong about he'd said to Striker about the one man who could dogfight with a TBM, while everyone else died. He remembered that every died when you fought a furball with a TBM because that one pilot had been in a SBD Dauntless diver bomber (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zEnDjwXnj3Y). That adrenaline-addled maniac had used the diver bomber's high-G resistance wings to out turn a pair of Mitsubishi Zeros in a scissors manuever. Of course, he'd had to roll the SDB up on its wing and pretty much G his lips off to limit the Zeros to head on passes where his two fifty caliber machines guns, his most potent defensive weapons had effect.

He was snapped from his meandering thoughts when the Squadron Leader made his radio check and started his engine. Quiggles picked up Ah'ron and looked the vornskr puppy in the eyes. "Alright, lad, you swear you've done all your business, eh? We're not going to have a repeat performance of the leg through Tanaara, are we?"

The vornskr's tail wagged furiously, and he stretched his head foward to lick Quiggles on the nose. The pilot rolled his eyes but gave an amused chuckle. "Very well, you're foresworn now. I don't want to get another flight suit out, now." He unzipped his suit and manuevered the pup inside and zipped his flight suit back up. The vornskr looked around happily, his head poking out above the zipper.

It was an odd arrangement, Quiggles thought as he strapped in, which had started when the rascal snuck into his Kittyhawk before a training flight back home. He'd discovered him after take off and, in a paniac, stuffed the pup inside his flightsuit to keep him from getting bashed around the cockpit mid-flight. It'd worked then because he'd still gone on to defeat every pilot in his squadron during the ensuing simulated furball. From then on, Quiggles considered the little ball of fur a good luck charm, though he tried to leave him on the ground whenever possible, jsut for safety. He was carrying Ah'ron now because he'd thought he'd just be ferrying his plane to a base and then flying missions.

Quiggles reached foward and hit the ignition for his twin Allison engines which sputtered, whined, and roared to life before settling to the Lightning's distinctive muffled 'whuffle.' He plugged his throat mike into the radio and squeezed the paddles. "Winters, this Quiggles. I have two good starts, and I'm fueled and armed." He glanced at the Lyion P-51 tearing down the runway. "Sir, are we going to leave a bit after the Lyion, for some hammer and anvil effect? Or are we going to launching now?"

He pushed his throttles forward and taxied after the Squadron Leader's Spitfire.

"We'll be launching soon, but I think we're going to be linking up with aircraft from Fungi later on" replied Winters, sat waiting in his Spitfire

Striker Goes for the kill

Striker was cleaing his plane when he saw a technician walk by.

"Hey, Tech can you bring me 8 10 × 5 in rockets, and 1600 rounds of 12.7 mm bullets", Striker called to the native.

The tech glanced at the P-51 and said,"That mustang can hold that many rounds of amunition sir."

"Just give me the ammo I modifed mine", Striker called.

The tech turned to leave when Striker called him back,"By the time we start this damn operation you better get me some paint", Striker said pointing at the row of enemy flags that signified each kill.

Eric replied "Roger that. Everything's A OK here. Shall we fly?"

Winters went out onto the huge airstrip, and Eric followed, coaxing the Raiden along slowly, waiting to see what we were doing. He caught bits of radio chatter from Quiggles, whichever one that was, and Winters.

He pulled back on the throttle slightly, and brought the old girl to a stop about 30 feet behind Winters and Andrew

As soon as he was done equiping his plane, Striker hopped in and joined the takeoff line behind Eric.

Since nobody seemed to have heard him, Andrew switched back from screaming to the radio. "Hey Striker. Everything running fine?"

Since nobody seemed to have heard him, Andrew switched back from screaming to the radio. "Hey Striker. Everything running fine?"


"Why? I thought we were taking off" Striker called back.

"Just curious, I'm sure you know what you're doing." Andrew stated. "Winters, are we going to take off?"

"Yes, now that we're all here" replied Winters

He opened the throttle fully on the Spitfire and blasted down the runway. He was soon in the air again, where he felt he belonged.

Eric was incredibly relieved. It was time to go home to the skies. He pulled the throttle back, not even bothering to ease up. Then he pulled the plane's nose up, and got into the sky. He increased the throttle and pulled up to the right of Winters, who was apparently the squad leader. He said into the radio, "On your 3, rearin' to go."

Eric was incredibly relieved. It was time to go home to the skies. He pulled the throttle back, not even bothering to ease up. Then he pulled the plane's nose up, and got into the sky. He increased the throttle and pulled up to the right of Winters, who was apparently the squad leader. He said into the radio, "On your 3, rearin' to go."

"Roger that" replied Hal, as they headed towards Fungi at high speed

OOC: For now, but i'd particularly like him to go down in a dogfight with Kulikovia's red wolves when we meet them. Then someone else can take over the reigns of leadership ;)

"What the hell are you doing Striker?" demanded Sonic. "Those are friendlies your killing,"

Sonic P-51 Mustang appeared with another squadron of P-51 Mustangs, Hawks and small Sparrow's. The Fungi birds weren't too happy seeing an ally backstab them. The Hawks broke formation as the Lynion's went through the friendly squadron. However, the Sparrows and Hawks covered each other as a Hawk landed on Striker's tail. Its eyes glared at the pilot as it started to peck into the cockpit while forcing the plane to go down.

"What do you think scum?" shouted the Hawk as it ripped through the cockpit shield. "Come to help us then you backstab us and now you're getting you reward,"

"Peck his eyes out boys," came a Lynion voice over the radio.

"Boys pick your targets but don't fire on them just yet," ordered Sonic. "Winters if this is your verison of giving us help, then you better convince the squadrons not to turn on you,"

The Mustangs came around as they tailed the new arrivals but not firing until furhter orders. The Hawks and the Sparrows darted inbetween the planes as they watched a hawk and a sparrow peck into Striker's cockpit. They had their orders and were waiting for the signal from Sonic to engage the others. During the incident, a flight of Dragonflies interceppted the party as they prepared for the defense of their nation.

"What the hell are you doing Striker?" demanded Sonic. "Those are friendlies your killing,"

Sonic P-51 Mustang appeared with another squadron of P-51 Mustangs, Hawks and small Sparrow's. The Fungi birds weren't too happy seeing an ally backstab them. The Hawks broke formation as the Lynion's went through the friendly squadron. However, the Sparrows and Hawks covered each other as a Hawk landed on Striker's tail. Its eyes glared at the pilot as it started to peck into the cockpit while forcing the plane to go down.

"What do you think scum?" shouted the Hawk as it ripped through the cockpit shield. "Come to help us then you backstab us and now you're getting you reward,"

"Peck his eyes out boys," came a Lynion voice over the radio.

"Boys pick your targets but don't fire on them just yet," ordered Sonic. "Winters if this is your verison of giving us help, then you better convince the squadrons not to turn on you,"

The Mustangs came around as they tailed the new arrivals but not firing until furhter orders. The Hawks and the Sparrows darted inbetween the planes as they watched a hawk and a sparrow peck into Striker's cockpit. They had their orders and were waiting for the signal from Sonic to engage the others. During the incident, a flight of Dragonflies interceppted the party as they prepared for the defense of their nation.

"Yeah, i'm on it" replied Winters "Striker, hold your fire! The enemy is Kulikovia, not Fungi!"

"Lieutenant, we have bogies at our four o'clock down!" radioed one of the wings.

Konovski craned his head over to see if he could spot them. There were faint sillouettes in the distance. This was it, their first action in several weeks. They gave up their position and the rocket trail gave away their position.

"All wings ascend and put the sun to your backs-follow my lead" Konovski radioed and tipped his wings. He throttled up and the Yak-3 ascended higher in the air. The sun was bright but soon he angled his plane to pout it to his back. They were going to dive down and take them by surpise.

he throttled downwards and the plane descended. His crosshairs jutted and shook as the engine hummed. He grasped the stick and placed a finger over he trigger, lining up his target.

One of the Sparrows looked up as it noticed something was against the sunlight. This caught the attention of Sonic and his wingmen as the Hawks and Dragonflies spread out.

"What's wrong Justin?" asked Sonic over the radio.

"I dunno sir," replied the Hawk as it flapped its wings. "Everyone spread out and see if you can figure out what is is up there,"

The P-51 Mustangs broke formation as they scattered everywhere to avoid a pile up of planes in one position. Sonic did a barrel roll as he dived upwards before diving back down on the group he was with earlier.

Winters was on alert now. He had heard the radio transmission between Sonic and one of the Sparrows, and kept scanning the skies.

"Guys, call out those Bandits when you see them" he said to the group "And be alert for Flak, we're approaching the target now"

"What the hell are you doing Striker?" demanded Sonic. "Those are friendlies your killing,"

Sonic P-51 Mustang appeared with another squadron of P-51 Mustangs, Hawks and small Sparrow's. The Fungi birds weren't too happy seeing an ally backstab them. The Hawks broke formation as the Lynion's went through the friendly squadron. However, the Sparrows and Hawks covered each other as a Hawk landed on Striker's tail. Its eyes glared at the pilot as it started to peck into the cockpit while forcing the plane to go down.

"What do you think scum?" shouted the Hawk as it ripped through the cockpit shield. "Come to help us then you backstab us and now you're getting you reward,"

"Peck his eyes out boys," came a Lynion voice over the radio.




"Boys pick your targets but don't fire on them just yet," ordered Sonic. "Winters if this is your verison of giving us help, then you better convince the squadrons not to turn on you,"

The Mustangs came around as they tailed the new arrivals but not firing until furhter orders. The Hawks and the Sparrows darted inbetween the planes as they watched a hawk and a sparrow peck into Striker's cockpit. They had their orders and were waiting for the signal from Sonic to engage the others. During the incident, a flight of Dragonflies interceppted the party as they prepared for the defense of their nation.




OOC: lol Im stupid. Sorry I made that mistake.

"Roger that. Spread out, everyone! Let's try not to make an easy target. Do we engage a Bandit if we see it?"

The blood was pulsing through Eric's veins. Now he was excited. Mentally he calcuated his personal kill to probable count.

46-112? That's about to go up.

White knuckled, Eric edged up on the throttle and jolted forward, his whole body in alert mode.

"Roger that. Spread out, everyone! Let's try not to make an easy target. Do we engage a Bandit if we see it?"

The blood was pulsing through Eric's veins. Now he was excited. Mentally he calcuated his personal kill to probable count.

46-112? That's about to go up.

White knuckled, Eric edged up on the throttle and jolted forward, his whole body in alert mode.

"Yes, engage at will" replied Winters, quickly marking a point on the cloth map on his knee "But remember, they're not our primary targets"

He looked out of the cockpit. Below, he could see a group of black silouettes

"Ok guys, that's the target below us" he said to the group "Let's give 'em hell"

He flipped the grey Spitfire over onto it's back and pulled back on the controls hard. The grey plane pelted towards the artillery on the ground below. As the altimeter showed seven thousand feet, Winters released his three 250 lbs bombs and pulled hard on the controls. The plane levelled out and Winters blacked out for a moment. As he regained vision, he heard an earth shattering explosion.

"Ugh, I hate it when that happens" he said "Guys, i'm clear, you can make your runs now"

"Understood. Any idea where they might be coming from?"

As soon as he finished the sentence, he saw Winters flip the Spit over, flying inverted for a second. His plane went straight for the artillery, and at about seven thousand, Winters dropped his payload, and flipped the plane over, levelling out. The plane seemed to fly itself for a moment. Then Winters came back on the radio.

"Ugh, I hate it when that happens. Guys, I'm clear, you can make your runs now"

"Roger that Captain."

Eric flew for a bit, then pulled the yoke left sharply, and increased the throttle, banking to the left, and spiralling down. When he was at about 4000 feet (he wasn't much of a bomber) He pulled out of the turn and released his payload on the small black specks on the ground below. He pulled up sharply, and climbed insanely quickly, thanks to the strong engine of the J2M.

"Dropped my payload. Requesting permission to scout for enemy fighters?"

As he finished the sentence, a rain of lead came just above his cockpit. He yelled.

"From the East! Fighters coming in. Everyone get ready!

"From the East?" Winters said "Ok, I'll handle it"

He turned his plane to the east and scanned for the bandits

"I can't see them yet" he said

At last! Konovski's crosshairs filled with the full frame of an enemy aircraft. His pulled back on the trigger and the single 20mm ShVAK cannon and the two UBS machine guns opened fire with dazzling effect. The tracers exploded out of the barrels as pure lead rained from above. With the sun to their backs, it made it near impossible for the enemy squadron to see their approach.

One of the planes caught aflame and a trail of thick black smoke followed its' movements. The plane was wounded and just a matter of time before there was engine failure or it was nipped by another Yak-3. His wingman made another pass, opening up with his guns. They were now engulfed in a full dogfight. below he could see flashes from explosions on artillery positions. He just hoped that the ground defenses wouldn't open fire with his sqaudron in the fray.

"Christ allmighty!" shouted Winters, as the tracers whistled past his right wing, clipping the wingtip.

He looked up to see one of the aircraft.

Yak-3's? he thought Christ, I hope it's not the Red Wolves

He jerked the controls, desperately trying to stay one step ahead of the fighter he assumed was still on his tail

Konovski pulled up and throttled down. A controlled stall is what he needed to allow him to turn sharply and get back on the prey's tail. The Red Wolves descended down and began their methodical and deadly dance. Any plane that was going for a bombing run was prey to his squadron. Dive Bombing left them in a dire situation for thy moved at a straight downward angle and could only go so many directions.

"Keep up the pressure!" Konovski ordered. The radio chatter was confusing as other pilots shouted and hooped. These kind of scraps were oftren confusing and dangerous. You were at risk of being hit by stray rounds. He maneuvered and struggled to get on his preys tail. Finally, he got back on it but the plane sweeped and weaved in and out. It was tough to get him in the crosshairs so he fired short controlled bursts which mostly missed their mark. Damn!

Yak-3's came upon them like hornets from a disturbed nest.

The Red Wolves? We're in for it now!

Just before another round of machinegun fire came upon him, Eric twisted his the yoke right, and pulled into a climb. He moved used the rudder pedals to turn around in his climb, and saw a plane following him, not moving quite as fast, but clearly a good pilot.

He yanked downwards, hoping his baby would come up fast enough. The plane risked stalling as he dived and flipped back up behind the Yak-3. The pilot knew what he was doing, and dived jerkily, so Eric couldn't center his crosshairs. He followed, and tried to get his crosshairs on the plane. It was swerving left to right, and Eric decided to let off bursts and try to catch it in transition.

Christ I hope nobody's behind me.

Winters flew as hard as he could, but it wasn't working. The Yak pilot was very good.

Suddenly there was a thud from the rear of the plane. He soon found out what was wrong. The rudder didn't respond when he moved the controls

Thoughts raced through his mind

Shit! If they've hit the rudder, i'm gonna be a sitting duck!

He tried jerking the plane around. Luckily, he came out right on the tail of another Yak-3

He predicted on the plane, and let off a burst from the 20mm cannons. It looked like a hit, but he didn't have time to check.

Striker saw that Winters was in trouble and trying to redeem himself he chased that yak and lined up his cross hairs. The rounds tore through the plane and it exploded. He prayed that he hit the enemy this time.

At the warning yell, Quiggles pulled a release lever for his droptanks. Only one, his starboard tank, dropped. The port tank did not however. He shoved the throttles fowards and hauled back on the stick to come out of his shallow dive. He brought it to starboard to bring him into a climbing turn to the east.

Quiggles felt his orange Lightning shudder as a he flowed one of the major tenets of air combat, always turn into an attacker. It must have been the Yak's 12 mm machine guns he felt because the Lightning wasn't exploding around him as it would if he took rounds from that nasty 20mm cannon with explosive shells. The 12mills weren't anything to sneeze at, but he could deal with a little whistling in his tails than no tail booms at all.

As he came around he saw the small swarm of Russian made fighters diving down on his squadron. Quiggles lowered his nose to bring his crosshairs onto one of the fighters at the rear of the diving enemy formation. He waited a few beats and then tightened up on trigger for a quick half second burst and his four .50 caliber guns and that 20mm Hispano cannon which rattled out a mixture of tracers, armor piercing, and high explosive.

Tail End Charlie in that Yak formation was going have a bad day from those fivea angry sisters. Since all five guns were mounted in the nose of the center nacelle of his P-38, he had much, much longer range than most fighters that instead had to converge their fire. The P-38 had at times five times the effective range of a fighter with guns mounted in the wings.

A sudden explosion behind Winters' Spitfire caused him breathe a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. As he pulled back around, the engine caught fire, spluttered and stopped.

"Oh Shit..." he said, watching the black smoke trailing out of the side of the engine

OhShitOhShitOhShit he scrabbled desperately to open the canopy as the spitfire went into a dive. The canopy wouldn't budge.

He clicked his radio on. It was damaged, and he didn't think all of his message got out. But he hoped that the main bit had gone

"Quiggles...take...ommand of...squadron...so...long"

He tried the cockpit again, but he knew it was futile. Pulling desperately at the release, he quickly looked at the altimeter. It didn't matter though. The ground already filled his windscreen.

"Well, this is how I wanted to go" he said to himself.

The plane slammed into the ground and slid for a moment. As it hit, the canopy flew off and the propeller bent backwards. It hit a tree, which tore off the right wing, but slowed it down considerably. After it stopped, it began to burn.

"Bloody hell!" shouted Sonic into the radio. "Fungi break formation and pair off,"

Two sparrows and a hawk banded together as they tailed an enemy plane. Their beaks were covered in blood as earlier they attemtped to kill one of the friendly pilots. The Lynion flyboys were already being tailed as two P-51 Mustangs went down. The hawks choose their planes as the dragonflies opened fire on the enemy planes with .50 cal machine guns fitted on their bodies. They were determind to fight to their deaths.

One of the hawks noticed the wreck and dived down after it. He wasn't bothered about the battle above him as he landed next to the plane which landed in the tree.

"Report," came a voice over the radio.

"I'm trying to pull the guy out," replied the Hawk as it beak ripped open the cockpit and took out the body.

With the battle high above them, the Hawk carefully placed the body on the ground as he watched it for a moment.

"I think he's dead sir," replied the hawk as it looked at the battle above it.

"Bloody hell!" shouted Sonic into the radio. "Fungi break formation and pair off,"

Two sparrows and a hawk banded together as they tailed an enemy plane. Their beaks were covered in blood as earlier they attemtped to kill one of the friendly pilots. The Lynion flyboys were already being tailed as two P-51 Mustangs went down. The hawks choose their planes as the dragonflies opened fire on the enemy planes with .50 cal machine guns fitted on their bodies. They were determind to fight to their deaths.

One of the hawks noticed the wreck and dived down after it. He wasn't bothered about the battle above him as he landed next to the plane which landed in the tree.

"Report," came a voice over the radio.

"I'm trying to pull the guy out," replied the Hawk as it beak ripped open the cockpit and took out the body.

With the battle high above them, the Hawk carefully placed the body on the ground as he watched it for a moment.

"I think he's dead sir," replied the hawk as it looked at the battle above it.

OOC: If you don't mind Lynion, leave his body there. i have plans for what happens to him.

OOC: Sure

IC:

The hawk shaked its head as he returned to the battle above him. He had no doubts for the pilot nor felt pity for him. At that moment, his concern was Fungi and its people.

Unseen eyes had seen the crash. After the hawk left, a small group of soldiers dressed in black emerged from the trees. Their faces were masked and they wore helmets bearing the Ustian Army Insignia. They collected Winters body, and subsequently dissapeared into the shadows.

Eric tried to hold his breakfast in. Winters was younger than him. He'd never been used to that, seeing squad members killed. Plus, that bloody bird was downright scary. He had to keep his mind in it though.

"Quiggles! Looks like you're in charge! Orders?" He shouted into his radio, trying to weave through the wreckage and the enemy planes.

They were losing.

"Hold tight Eric this is Sonic," replied Sonic as he blasted an enemy plane apart while the hawks started to chase their targets. "The birds are going to land on the planes tail, when it happens, blast the plane apart, it'll be a sitting duck,"

It was a spectacular fireball. An awe-inspiring sight to see a manned craft spiral out of control towards certain death. He could only imagine the pilot's last moments. Did he say goodbye? Did he pray? Is there anyone held close to his heart? These were just a few questions that emerged when he killed another plane.

"You got him, sir" Jazjeck radioed, congratulating his wing commander joyfully.

Chivalry wasn't dead with Konovski as he briefly saluted the falling plane. Now, it was back to business and he dipped the nose up and ascended, then cut to the left to engage another target. He knew they sustained losses but the enemy were in a bad spot. They were caught unprepared with their pants around their ankles.

[OOC: I assume we're allowed to RP out a dogfight with one of your NPC Yaks, Kulik?

OOC: 101, no planes are landing. We haven't even sighted a runway, yet.]

The Catawaban pilot saw the buzzsaw effect that his five guns had on the rear most Yak. The four fifty cailbers stripped away at the propellor and nose of the fuselage, but the Hispano's deadly cocktail of shells ripped into the engine with explosive horror. Quiggles rolled his P-38 up onto its back and watched as the black smoke wreathed Yak plummeted towards the ground below.

"Quiggles...take...ommand of...squa..ron...so....ong"

He heard the burst of static and snippets of words and craned his head around to see the Squadron Leader's grey Spitfire trailing smoke and making for the ground like a lawndart. Quiggles cursed; the puppy poking his head out of his flightsuit, whimpered sensing things had take a turn for the dreadfully worse.

The young pilot hauled back on the stick, performing a Split-S that had his once climbing Lightning now diving in the opposite direction. He took stock of furball down below from his high vantage point. He heard Eric yell for orders over the radio.

They were losing, that was definite. They had been ambushed by startlingly more nimble aircraft. They had little to no unit cohesion or any training to work in cooperative groups. The Yak could out turn and climb pretty much everything they had in the skies. Straight and level, those Yaks could run down most of the Volunteers.

They really had one good advantage. They were all a great deal heavier. Case in point, he felt and heard the wind rushing over his Lightning as he dove. He reached up and squeezed the flaps on his throat mic. "Alright, boys, we're outmatched, and a turning fight is just playing to the Kuliks' strengths. We're heavier than they are. We trade altitude for speed and disengage from the fight."

Quiggles angled his P-38 towards spot that turned into a Kulikovian fighter. "If you have the altitude, make diving attacks on any enemy target on your way out." The Catawaban applied rudder to track the Yak which was turning after a friendly fighter. The Catawaban fired a quick burst. The high deflection shot was difficult, and all the rounds went in front of the Kulikovian's nose. The Yak pilot got the hint and turned away from the friendly and into Quiggles and began to climb. The rate of closure and the range were too short, P-38 flashed by before other pilot had a chance to fire.

Ah'ron pulled his head down into Quiggles's flightsuit as the altimeter spun down and the speed indicator ticked past four hundred miles per hour, which was past the Lightning's stated maxmium speed in level flight.

"Hold tight Eric this is Sonic," replied Sonic as he blasted an enemy plane apart while the hawks started to chase their targets. "The birds are going to land on the planes tail, when it happens, blast the plane apart, it'll be a sitting duck,"
OOC: how about that?

"Hold tight Eric this is Sonic," replied Sonic as he blasted an enemy plane apart while the hawks started to chase their targets. "The birds are going to land on the planes tail, when it happens, blast the plane apart, it'll be a sitting duck,"

[OOC: Planes aren't landing, birds are landing. Although I don't undestand what exactly birds...which can some how achieve speeds in the neighborhood of 400 miles per hour, sitting on the elevator is going to help out.]

Striker saw a black trail of smoke and decided to follow. After catching up with the plane he saw that it was an enemy fighter.

"Quiggles, I think this one is heading for a base. Im going in" Said Striker.

The strange soldiers carried Hal's blackened body to a waiting fishing boat. After loading him on board, they pulled away from the land. Soon they would rendevouz with the cruiser HMS Resolute, which was on patrol in international waters.

[OOC: The Grammar Nazi compels me.....HMS Resolute, which was on patrol in international waters. Unless the ship is repeatedly personified and anthromorphic in description, it should be which as it is an inanimate object....sorry, I'll shove the Grammar Nazi back in a corner.]

Quiggles glanced over and saw the 101st Mustang trailing behind a smoking Yak. "Negative, Striker, do not pursue. I repeat, DO NOT pursue. He's leading you down Kulik Wolf's gullet. Mark his heading and disengage as ordered. We can search for his aerodrome along that course another day."

The Catawaban pulled out of his dive and used the speed to zoom climb up into chandelle. He used the rising turn to look over the furball to ensure the other pilots weren't in trouble and were able to disengage. "Lynions, we're going to need to know where your aerodromes are. Squadron Leader Winters neglected to tell us before we took off."

He silently hoped that the Kuliks hadn't figured which radio channel they were on. They didn't have any sort of code made up for rendezvous points or base locations. It would all be in the clear. The only security would be Kulikovian inattention.

OOC: However, your grammar Nazi is correct. Sorry, I was busy making cakes as I typed that.


"Lynions, we're going to need to know where your aerodromes are. Squadron Leader Winters neglected to tell us before we took off."


Ouch! Sorry, but I should have said. Up untill we got here and were attacked I hadn't intended to get shot down so early, but in truth in that situation its what probably would have happened.

[OOC: Busy making cakes? An entirely understandable and tasty excuse. And no problem, we can adapt and roll with the punches. ]

[OOC: The Grammar Nazi compels me.....HMS Resolute, which was on patrol in international waters. Unless the ship is repeatedly personified and anthromorphic in description, it should be which as it is an inanimate object....sorry, I'll shove the Grammar Nazi back in a corner.]

Quiggles glanced over and saw the 101st Mustang trailing behind a smoking Yak. "Negative, Striker, do not pursue. I repeat, DO NOT pursue. He's leading you down Kulik Wolf's gullet. Mark his heading and disengage as ordered. We can search for his aerodrome along that course another day."

The Catawaban pulled out of his dive and used the speed to zoom climb up into chandelle. He used the rising turn to look over the furball to ensure the other pilots weren't in trouble and were able to disengage. "Lynions, we're going to need to know where your aerodromes are. Squadron Leader Winters neglected to tell us before we took off."

He silently hoped that the Kuliks hadn't figured which radio channel they were on. They didn't have any sort of code made up for rendezvous points or base locations. It would all be in the clear. The only security would be Kulikovian inattention.
"yes sir", Stiker said reluctantly.

"They are breaking off, should we follow-sir?" Jazjeck asked as his plane came up alongside Konovski's. His plane had sustained some damage but nothing critical.

"Negative" Konovski ordered, "Our mission was to protect the artillery implacements. We will not follow"

They had scored a victory this day. The allied squadron had been defeated. he surmized that the one plane he took out was the wing commander. This because the other planes quickly disintegrated and chose to disengage not long after the kill. The Red Wolves lost several planes but their lives weren't important. The bombardment on the Fungi capital began in ernest and Konovski hoped that with victory so close, he would live to see it and more importantly, Natasha.

Quiggles surveyed the fight below him and was relieved to see the Yaks were breaking off from his squadron. He banked away from the weak pillars of black smoke that marked the skirmish. It had been a defeat, but they had not been defeated.

This was not a route, Quiggles thought to himself, trying to bouy his own spirits. It might feel horrible, but by definition, this was a tactical withdrawal. He had chosen to disengage rather than recklessly stay and be destroyed. They had lost a handful of fighters, and it hurt to lose the Squadron Leader.

However, they'd given as good as they got even in a surprise ambush. Both sides had lost a handful of fighters, a bloodied nose for each in all reality. The Kuliks had forced the Allies to abort their entire strike, but still a few planes had been able to drop ordance onto the artillery positions. Quiggles knew they hadn't destroyed a large portion of the battery, but they'd bled their ability a little.

Tactically, they'd been defeated. Strategically, it was even. The Allied squadrons were stiill in the air. The Kuliks had their squadron and the artillery largely intact. This was just a few testing blows in the first round.

Quiggles tried to keep that in mind as cruised out of the engagement zone. Hopefully, he thought as he pet Ah'ron who was still curled inside his flightsuit, he was going the right direction for the Fungi aerodromes. With that thought expressed, Quiggles began wondering how he came to be the Squadron Leader and what the hell he was going to do with this backcountry circus.

Eric was shortly behind Quiggles, trying to keep his plane in the air. A few tracers had nicked his right wing, and the rudders weren't responding properly.

"Quiggles, this is Shelby reporting in. I need to stop somewhere and get some repairs. My wing was hit, but it's still airborne, at least." He said wearily into the radio.

Thinking for a minute, he flicked the radio on again.

"Well. I suppose you're unofficial leader, It's up to you. Also, I'd like to suggest something. Perhaps, since we're a relatively small squadron, at least one plane smaller now, that we rely on night bombings, so as to prevent something like that clusterfuck happening again."

The Catawaban pulled his orange Lightning up into a loop that brought him down off the Resqwandi's wing. He surveyed the J2M's damage. It was a tad chewed up, with a few gaping holes in his vertical stabilizer and rudder. Cannon rounds, he's damned lucky.

Quiggles glanced over to the other pilot and keyed his mic. "The Lynions will show us to their bases, lad. We'll stop there, repair, rearm, and gather ourselves."

His head swiveled around to look back at the shrinking smoke of the skirmish. "As to our future plans, this isn't a secure channel. I'd like as little given out as possible. Remember: Loose Lips Sink Ships, lad."

He turned back the pilot. "Take it calm, Shelby. I'll stay with you all the way in." He might have just gotten command thrust on him. But by Thunder that made every man jack his, and he was going to make sure they did their duty and more importantly got home to their lasses and janes in one piece.

Artorius Research Facility, An Undisclosed Location, Ustio North

Hal woke to the sound of engines. That sould be normal for him, but today it wasn't.

He looked around. He remembered the hawk pulling him free of the wreckage of the Spit, then he must have blacked out. But he didn't remember anything about how he got to where he was now. As he got up, he felt a searing pain down his arm. Looking down, he saw it was in a sling.

Must have damaged it in the crash he thought

The room he was in was more of a cell. A bolted door, bars on the windows

He looked through. Outside, it was remarkably like the inside of a hangar. However, this was like no hangar he'd ever been in. Strange soldiers were moving weird-looking materials around. As he looked, a twin-boom tail passed by the window on some sort of crane

A production centre for P-38's? he guessed as he sat back down on the bed

Why the hell am I being held here? And why the hell aren't I dead? A crash like that should have been the end of me.

OOC: I should point out something here - while Lynion's hawk said he was dead and Kulikovia said he was "plummeting to a certain death", I never actaully confirmed that he'd died.

[OOC: Planes aren't landing, birds are landing. Although I don't undestand what exactly birds...which can some how achieve speeds in the neighborhood of 400 miles per hour, sitting on the elevator is going to help out.]

OOC:

Sparrows can tail a plane but not for too long and during that time, another bird will land on the tail of the plane the Sparrow is following. It's basic tactic. One tails and get the pilots attention and the second one jumps them.

[OOC: The Grammar Nazi compels me.....HMS Resolute, which was on patrol in international waters. Unless the ship is repeatedly personified and anthromorphic in description, it should be which as it is an inanimate object....sorry, I'll shove the Grammar Nazi back in a corner.]

Quiggles glanced over and saw the 101st Mustang trailing behind a smoking Yak. "Negative, Striker, do not pursue. I repeat, DO NOT pursue. He's leading you down Kulik Wolf's gullet. Mark his heading and disengage as ordered. We can search for his aerodrome along that course another day."

The Catawaban pulled out of his dive and used the speed to zoom climb up into chandelle. He used the rising turn to look over the furball to ensure the other pilots weren't in trouble and were able to disengage. "Lynions, we're going to need to know where your aerodromes are. Squadron Leader Winters neglected to tell us before we took off."

He silently hoped that the Kuliks hadn't figured which radio channel they were on. They didn't have any sort of code made up for rendezvous points or base locations. It would all be in the clear. The only security would be Kulikovian inattention.

The capital was saved from an invasion. Cheers were given as the men on the ground waved at the fly boys in the air. The Dragonfly Fighter Planes were securing the airspace as the Lynion's lead the squadron back to a secure airbase.

"Bloody beaut!" came a Lynion over the airwaves.

"We'll get them another time boys," replied Sonic as they headed towards an airfield. "Land, re-fuel and we got something you might be happy to see,"

The P51 Mustangs were the first to land as they taxied themselves into a seperate hanger where they were going to be repaired. The Hawks and Sparrows landed in another area of the airfield while Sonic landed on the fourth (six in total) runway and taxied in the engineering area.

"Report," ordered Sonic to the operator on the ground.

"Two Mustangs down, four badly damaged, three nearly out of fuel and several nearly out of rounds," replied the operator. "Four Hawks are badly wounded, twelve wounded and two dead,"

"Rearm the fighter planes, re-fuel and repair any broken ones and what about the prototype?" ordered Sonic.

"F-51?" replied the operator. "No news about it but we know six of them are on their way at the moment,"

Quiggles, trailing beside Shelby, glanced down at the ground crew who waved and looked to be cheering. He shook his head. "Damned fools." If they thought their capital was safe, they were dead wrong. The strike might have slowed the Kulikovians ever so much, and perhaps a few less buidlings would be razed and a few more grunts might survive. However, on a whole, they'd done very little strategically.

Ah'ron poked his head back out of Quiggles flightsuit. He craned his head up and licked his master's chin, attemping to cheer him up. Quiggles scratched the little vornskr behind the ears. He glanced back at Shelby. "Go ahead and land, Shelby. I've got still got a bit left in my tank. I'm going to stay up and watch for the others to come in."

He pulled back on his stick to gain a few thousand feet and then began very slow racetrack in the sky, looking for his other pilots.

The Red Wolves touched back down at Battleroads AB. They were met by joyful cheers from the ground crews and other pilots who waved and saluted their returning comrades. Konovski, as he taxied to the repair area, returned their salutes and nodded in recognition.

As he stepped down from his plane and the propellers slowed to a grinding halt, Chief Mechanic Grazny stepped up to him.

"How's my plane?" Grazny asked, slapping a callpused hand on the wing.

"I returned her in descent condition. They got her in a few places but no functional damage." Konovski replied.

He walked away and met with the other pilots. Their mission was a success but they lost three of their wingmen but would remember them later that night in a traditional Red Wolf ceremony for fallen comrades.

The cell door opened and one of the soldiers who had been patroling outside stepped inside.

"You're wanted in the medical wing" he said to Winters "Move"

Hal got to his feet slowly. As he left the room, he quickly looked to the right, where he assumed the hangar was, but there was a thick iron door there.

"This way" said the soldier, pointing to the left

He escorted him into a crisp white room, which was very different. As the soldier left the room, locking it behind him, Hal caught a glimpse of a logo on the soldier's armour:

S.R.P.D

SRPD? pondered Winters as he stood in the room. A door on the other side of the room opened, and a person in a white coat entered. They too wore a mask that obscured their face.

"Sit on the table" he said to Hal

Winters hauled himself onto the white table in the centre of the room. The doctor moved to him, a syringe in his hand.

He removed Hal's sling and carefully studied his arm. Then, without so much as 'by-your-leave', he jabbed the syringe into Hal's arm

"For christ's sake!" Hal shouted in agony "You could have fucking warned me!"

Although he couldn't see the guy's face, he could feel him smirking.

The door Hal had entered through opened, and the soldier who had escorted him in re-entered the room.

"You, follow me" he said, pointing at Winters

Shelby yanked on the joystick, forcing it left just to keep the damned thing in the air.

Thank god we're landing he thought, irritated.

He pulled back on the throttle, still forcing the yoke to the left, and pulled it downwards gradually, straining his arms keeping it in the air. He led his plane down onto the runway and tried to land. Unfortunately, he didn't know that his rear landing gear wasn't deploying. About 100 feet into the landing, his tail began dragging along the asphalt.

Trying to be calm, he let off the throttle completely, and pulled the yoke upwards, not bothering to keep it left. He used the rudder pedals to keep centered, and let the plane come to a stop.

Eric hopped out, and was greeted by cheers, coming from everyone.

Did something good come of this that I wasn't aware of?

OOC: Bump for interest

The guard escorted Hal down another corridor towards a huge oak door, guarded by two more of the SRPD soldiers. The escorting soldier flashed a card at the two by the door, who quickly opened it. The guard stood back, and indicated that Hal should enter.

As he stepped inside, the room was flooded with light. It was a massive hall, possibly used for dances and the like. He looked around.

"Welcome" came a voice from a balcony above. Hal looked up to see a man walking down the flight of stairs

As he reached the bottom, he gestured to the soldiers at the door. They retreated out of the room, closing the doors behind them

He turned to Hal

"How's it feel to have survived a crash like you did?" he asked "Or, more importantly - how would you feel if i told you we knew the airbase operating the fighter squadron that shot you down?"

"I'd want to get back in the air ASAP" replied Hal "Do you know what happened to-"

"They're okay - they all got back in one piece" interuppted the man, leading him up the stairs. As they reached the top, they turned left and down a corridor.

"Well, with your arm now pretty much healed, you're returned to flight status" he said as they walked down yet another corridor, stopping at another oak door. The man pressed a button on the side of the door frame, and waited.

Hal finally voiced the question that had been plaguing him since his first encounter with the masked soldier

"Who are you?" he asked

The man chuckled "Personally, or on a larger scale?" he asked

"Both" replied Hal

"Personally, you can call me Z" he said "On a larger scale, we are the S.R.P.D - Special Research & Projects Division. We exist in secret, designing and creating technology which benefits Ustio and the world - in that order"

The door opened into the hangar Hal had seen from his cell. Now though, it was empty - aside from five black fighter planes and four pilots.

"Meet your chariot, and your comrades" Z said, gesturing to them.

The black aircraft appeared to have no engines, but on closer inspection, Hal found that it was driven by a single propeller which was attached to the rear of the aircraft. Under the swept back wings it carried 14 HVAR rockets.

"It's called the Ascender" said Z "It's one of the prototypes we've been building for some time now"

He moved to Hal

"From now on, you no longer go by the name of Hal Winters - like all these pilots, your name died when you crashed"

Hal looked at him, puzzled

"From now on, you will go by the name of Merlin" he said, before turning to the other pilots "This is Galahad, Arthur, Lancelot & Guinivere" he pointed to each "They're your wingmen - look after them, and they'll look after you. Now, to business"

He pulled Merlin over to a map

"This is were the fighters who shot you down are based - here" Z pointed to an area "Hit it, and get back here"

With that, Z left through the door they had entered, leaving Merlin standing by the map. The others were climbing into their aircraft and starting the engines, so Merlin followed suit. The hangar doors opened, revealing a long black strip, and ahead of that, the open sky.

As Merlin followed the others out, he looked back to see the strip. It was on stilts, and the hangar was built deep into the mountainside. He guessed they were more secretive than they seemed. Looking ahead, the others fell into position on his wings as they thundered low over the water, heading for Battleroads AB under the cover of the rapidly falling sun. They would likely arrive there with daylight to spare, but the trip back would definetly be in darkness, where the black paint of the XP-55 would help it evade enemy fighters.

After flying his slow, constant racetracks for a while, Quiggles glanced down at his fuel gauges. He wasn't quite at empty, but he never liked setting a plane down on fumes. It wasn't good tactics, just in case a sudden move was required before refueling could take place.

Quiggles gave the sky one last scan before dipping his nose down to bring him into the landing pattern. He made a slow, gradual turn onto final approach. He throttle back and brought his Lightning down. He tried to bleed off as much air speed as he hovered on the ground effect before he rolled and bounced onto the rough, uneven field.

Before he came to a complete stop, Quiggles applied more power to his port engine to spin him towards the area that Striker, Sonic, and Shelby had parked their planes. Quiggles made a point to continue to behind them perhaps twenty feet. He would need to ensure that the others staggered their planes. It'd do them no good to lose every plane to one strafing run because they were lined up in a row.

He shut down his engines and pushed back the canopy. He unstrapped himself and pulled Ah'ron from his flight suit. He held the puppy under his arm as he climbed out of the Lightning and hopped to the ground. He set the puppy down, which promptly ran off to relieve itself at the edge of the field.

Quiggles stretched and then motioned to a ground crew near by. As they neared he yelled to them, "I want her fueled, rearmed, and the bullet holes patched immediately. Then I will need that droptank disconnected." He pointed to the port droptank that had stayed with the aircraft after he'd dropped the starboard tank. "Have it taken to where they will be quartering the foriegn pilots." It wasn't actually a fuel tank but a cargo pod full of Quiggles's things.

He turned to his Lightning, his garish orange Lightning. "And if you have some time...." The ground crew looked back at him from their duties. "I'll pay to have her painted. Emerald green on top and white on the bottom, if you can manage."

The ground crew looked at each other. "Anythin' ya want on the wings? Ya ain't got no roundels."

"Black shamrocks, lad, black shamrocks on wings and tails. I'll take care of the nose art later." Quiggles turned and started walking towards Shelby's J2M Raiden. The Catawaban stuck his hands in his waist pockets and walked with his eyes to the skies, looking for his other pilots.

The Acsenders were approaching Battleroads. Merlin looked ahead. He could see the Yak-9's on the ground. By the looks of things, they'd caught the Kulikovians completely by surprise. Once they were within range, the opened up on the planes with 50.cal machine guns mounted in the nose and the rockets in the wings.

Merlin decided that one pass would have to suffice, so after striking their targets they turned for home. As they did, they passed over another air base, one with several different aircraft on the ground. Merlin saluted the pilots on the ground, and then concentrated on getting back.

Guards swept onto the airfield as they ushered the Ace Squadron into a large office. Sonic was looking around as he noticed a Fungi Sparrow and a Lynion General gathered in the room looking over some maps. Sonic leaned over and noticed red arrows pointing in one direction and several others from another direction another area. Above it said 'Operation: Dooms-Day' it said in gothic writing.

they ushered the Ace Squadron into a small officer.

[OOC: Egads, that must be painful and uncomfortable...]

Quiggles glared indignantly back at the guards that had all but shoved them into the planning room. He was an officer and a volunteer, damn their hides, and he wasn't going treated with such frivolity. He narrowed his eyes at the Non-commissioned officer leading the guard detachment. He'd have words with him later.

The Catawban turned to the map table that the Lynion general and one of the blighted birds was clustered around. He stood to attention, awaiting their notice.

OOC: Change it to: Large office.

The squadron returned to the mountainside facility. As Merlin taxied into the hangar, the doors closed behind them and light flooded the facility. Hundreds of ground crew awaited their arrival, including Z. Merlin left his aircraft and headed for Z, who called to the assembled ground crews

"Right, have them all dismantled immediately" he shouted

"Why?" asked Merlin, as he got closer

"As far as we know, these XP-55's are the only ones in existance - and the enemy will surely have seen you. If that's the case, we can't just give the design to the Ustian Government and allow them to show off their new design, ergo making it look like they conducted the attack" answered Z

"But, we did" said Merlin

"I know, but they don't need to know that" said Z "You're to return to Operation: Valkyrie for now - rest assured, you'll be needed again soon"

"How will I get there?" asked Merlin, "And what will I tell the others happened, as they're sure to ask?"

"Tell them whatever you deem neccessary - but don't mention anything that happened here" Z warned him "As for transport, i'm sure we have an aircraft in our archives that will tickle your fancy"

Battleroads AB

Colonel Leukin lept out of the vehicle and surveyed the damage. Damage Controlmen, donned in their fire suits stood in long lines, clasping onto hoses from fire trucks. They sprayed down the burnt out hulks that used to be aircraft which flammed and smoked. Billows of black smoke hung above the base as ambulances blared. The garrison of troops took to their positions on the flak cannons and other batteries. They were taken by suprise by a nearly unseen enemy.

"Why didn't the radar pickets warn us?" Leukin demanded, throwing his cover to the ground angrily.

"Sir, these craft were different" Major Ulansky replied uneasily, "They were almost invisible to the radar"

"What?!" Leukin gave him a sharp look, "That's impossible!"

As he came to grips with this, Lt.Konovski stood in awe. They came from the sky and swiftly damaged their strike capabilities. It happened so quickly. One moment he is playing pool with Jazjeck, then suddenly they are under attack and by the time fire teams can get the batteries up-it's all over.

The dark sky is illuminated by flames as search lights criss cross over the sky. It's too dark to send our craft, the runway still needed to be cleared.

"How did this happen?" Jazjeck inquired, stunned.

"They were of a different caliber-Yuri" Konovski admitted, "And their planes were like somehting I'd never seen before. I just want to face them in the sky"

Merlin sat in the URAF Lockheed Hudson. He reflected on what had happened to him. He was now dressed in a navy blue overcoat over his navy blue uniform and a navy blue peaked cap. The white/gray transport aircraft was en route to the base he had passed over earlier.

The plane turned inbound to the runway and touched down hard. Coming to a halt off the runway, Merlin grabbed his bag and stepped off the plane. His personal aircraft would be here in a few days, so he wouldn't be on ops.

'Then again' he thought as he looked around at the near empty base 'the others will get a hell of a shock'

Spotting a group of guards by a large office-like building, he headed over and attempted to get in

"S'cuse me fellas, Squadron Leader Winters - Operation: Valkyrie" he said to the guards

"Attention please!" shouted the Sparrow as a Lynion came in with a projector. "We need to get this briefing over and done with because time is ours for the time being,"

The Lynion General and the Sparrow waited as the chatter stopped before turning to their attention. The sparrow was happy for a moment as it sighed before the projector came on and showed a map of the front line and the position of the enemy Command Post.

"My name is Sky Marshall Sparro of the 43rd Sparrow Fighter Squadron and this here is Lynion General Vamperial from Lynion," started Sparro as it introduced himself and Vamperial. "Now we are going to make the final move before the enemy takes the capital," Sparro pointed to the map as it showed three red lines around the outer part of the base and two blue arrows going North East. "The outer defence's are thick with AA positions, infantry, tanks and a load of other crap. This is going to be hard for both ground and land forces but there's another way. General Vamperial," Sparro pointed to Vamperial as he stepped forward.

"Gentlemen, its suicidal to smash through the outer defence's because it'll be thick and take too long to smash through before their commanders flee," started Vamperial before pointing to the arrows north-westward. "The Lynion 8th and 3rd Combined Corps are going to dirvert the attention of the enemy forces to the north. Don't expect an easy victory from them but it will open up the Command Post area for a limited time before they realise something is wrong," finished Vamperial

OOC: I'll add more soon

OOC: I was on vacation for the last week, what's happened so far?

[OOC: You should really just read it, kenavt. We're a bit of a wait, so ya don't have to worry about being left behind.]

OOC: I was on vacation for the last week, what's happened so far?

OOC: In a quick re-cap, here's what happened:

The squadron took off from the base to attack the atrillery. As we rerached the target we were jumped by the red wolves - Kulikovia's fighter squadron - Winters was shot down, and some of the others got damaged. Quiggles was given command of the squadron as Winters went down in flames. Since then, the squadron returned to base. In the meantime, soldiers from my Special Research & Projects Division recovered the unconsious Winters from Fungi, returned to a secret research facility in Ustio where he was stabbed with a needle (no significance) and given command of another squadron who flew XP-55 Acsenders in a dusk raid against Kulikovia's Red Wolves. Winters (or Merlin, as he became known) has just returned to the Fungi airbase and is attempting to get into Lynion's briefing for the next mission.

OOC: In a quick re-cap, here's what happened:

The squadron took off from the base to attack the atrillery. As we rerached the target we were jumped by the red wolves - Kulikovia's fighter squadron - Winters was shot down, and some of the others got damaged. Quiggles was given command of the squadron as Winters went down in flames. Since then, the squadron returned to base. In the meantime, soldiers from my Special Research & Projects Division recovered the unconsious Winters from Fungi, returned to a secret research facility in Ustio where he was stabbed with a needle (no significance) and given command of another squadron who flew XP-55 Acsenders in a dusk raid against Kulikovia's Red Wolves. Winters (or Merlin, as he became known) has just returned to the Fungi airbase and is attempting to get into Lynion's briefing for the next mission.

OOC: Is Merlin at the wrong base?

IC:

Finally! GAH! FINALLY! Andrew's P47 took off into the sky. Thank goodness they have good engineers here, he reflected. I guess my engine must have been shot or whatever from that battle over the Grand Am mountains... but it made it back here safe and sound. Oh well, let's try to go find the squadron. Andrew didn't hold out that much hope on that front.

His engine roared-calm down, baby!-and soared into the sky, of to the great unknown.

OOC: Is Merlin at the wrong base?

IC:

Finally! GAH! FINALLY! Andrew's P47 took off into the sky. Thank goodness they have good engineers here, he reflected. I guess my engine must have been shot or whatever from that battle over the Grand Am mountains... but it made it back here safe and sound. Oh well, let's try to go find the squadron. Andrew didn't hold out that much hope on that front.

His engine roared-calm down, baby!-and soared into the sky, of to the great unknown.

Not as far as i'm concerned. He's at the same one as the others.

Not as far as i'm concerned. He's at the same one as the others.

OOC: Thanks. I was going to make it that Andrew would see him and just say hi normally, what are you doing here-if he was going to Cockleshell.

BTW, this is getting confusing. Kulikovia and Imperial Fungi are fighting each other... and we're on Fungi's side, correct? And Lynion is an ally of Fungi, and so us.

IC:

"Where the f***," Andrew mutttered to himself in his cockpit, tuning his radio. That's when he saw some black planes flying past, from a distance. Those look cool. Hope they are not enemies. He didn't realize he had just blown a national secret.

It's rather nice up here, Andrew reflected. Hey wait, is that a transport plane down there? What the heck, let's follow it.

From a safe distance behind, Andrew followed it to a base where it landed. Is that Mr. Hal? he wondered. Sure, why not.

Andrew coasted in for the landing. Steady girl, steady... Landing successfully, he pulled in next to the transport, and hopped out as fast as possible.

"HEY! MR. HAL! IS THAT YOU?" He shouted, seeing that Merlin was far away.

OOC: Imperial Fungi and Fungi are the same thing. I use Fungi as the species and Imperial Fungi as the nation. No civil war

OC: I knew that.

OOC: Merlin IS Hal - It's a callsign. The other pilots in Sorceror Squadron use them too.

Merlin turned to see Andrew and his P-47 had arrived at the airfield too.

"Oh, hello Andrew" he said, walking over to him "Good flight?"

OOC: Merlin IS Hal - It's a callsign. The other pilots in Sorceror Squadron use them too.

Merlin turned to see Andrew and his P-47 had arrived at the airfield too.

"Oh, hello Andrew" he said, walking over to him "Good flight?"

OOC: I thought is was his new name-I did read the last five pages.

IC:

"Hey Mr. Hal. Well, not really, because my engine screwed up for some reason, so I fell behind. Do you have any idea where anyone else is?"

OOC: I thought is was his new name-I did read the last five pages.

IC:

"Hey Mr. Hal. Well, not really, because my engine screwed up for some reason, so I fell behind. Do you have any idea where anyone else is?"

OOC: Well, I suppose I should have said he'd still use his real name with the people who know him

"I think they're in that building over there" Merlin told him "I was just attempting to get in when you called"

"You're expected," said the minator on sentry duty as he opened the door to the room.

Inside was a Sparrow, Lynion general and the Ace Pilots as well as other Lynion fighter pilots. On the wall was the map of something on Fungi land with a red circle around an important part of the map.

"Well, shall we?" Merlin said to Andrew, as his Curtiss XP-46 landed behind them.

"Sure, why not?" Andrew replied, strolling nonchalantly into the room. "Hello, did I miss anything?"

OOC: Bumpity Bump

Andrew promptly sat down in a seat and tried to pay attention to the generals at the front, who had apppeared to have not noticed his inquiry.

"Please be on time," replied the Sparrow as it noticed the additional man in the room. "Going back to the battle,"

"Lynion Combined 4th and 3rd Army Corps are going to attack the enemy forces to the north east and dirvert as much of their forces as possible," started General Vamperial. "This will loosen up their defence's around their main CP now back to Sparro,"

"Now during our last war against Imperial Australia, we smashed into their capital by digging under ground and then taking their capital within five hours," started Sparro. "We are going to do the same thing and it is working. Inside our capital is a hole big enough for four B-29's Bombers to fly in and out with 2 metres of space between the wings and the wall. The cavern is about 20 kilometres long and maybe 500 to 800 metres wide with a soft roof under a position of maybe a park or open plains next to the enemy CP. It doesn't matter which but by the time you get there, the Spider Diggers would've smashed through and jumped to the surface. You'll only have a time limit of 1 hour to fly through to the hall where the Diggers will be waiting. Once Sonic has fired a red flare into the air, it'll be a full scaled assault. Any questions?" finished Sparro.

((Umm...B-52s? This is 1943.))

There was a switch in Quiggles's eye. "I have one, sir." He took a deep breath. "With all due respects...are you mad?"

OOC: I was thinking of the wrong bomber

IC:

Sparro hopped over to the pilot that asked him the question.

"Madness is what seperates the sub-Humans from the Humans. Lynion and Fungi alike will always look over all possbilities and decide where its best to engage the enemy," snapped Sparro. "Like Sun Tzu once said: the best way to defeat your enemy is to use the element of surprise! And that was from a Human. Now, with all respect to your own species, why aren't you keen on doing something mad and something that'll make you be remembered?"

"Because mad plans often end in failure - believe me, i've seen it happen first hand" said Merlin, stepping into the room

"But, we are here to help, and if this is the General's plan, I will support it - whether the rest of the squadron will, is not up to me anymore"

Sparro looked to Sonic as it jumped back to alongside Vamp who was turning off the projector and waiting for people's responses.

"I've seen this trick done before," started Sonic. "Its simple and is easier than it sounds. The best advice any Lynion or Fungi pilot can give you, is to spread out and avoid cluttering because if one explodes, then so will the others. That's the only problem there is in this stunt. We'll have to fit the planes with extra fuel to do the trip and high-powered lights to help us go through the tunnel or we'll be facing a high death rate," explained Sonic.

"Sounds like craziness if you don't mind sir," smiled the Lynion Wing Commander. "But the Lynion's are up for the challenge,"

"And who excatly are you?" asked Sparro to the new comer.

"And who excatly are you?" asked Sparro to the new comer.

"Operation Valkyrie. Lieutenant Andrew da Vincho, Kenavt Air. I will be involved in this mission most likely."

Under his breath, "How did they build that hole to make it big enough for a bunch of bombers?" He shook his head.

Quiggles was pleasantly surprised to see that Squadron Leader Winters had survived the crash. Actually he thought it miraculous or damned suspicous but couldn't decide which at the moment. That would need to be discussed and investigated later.

His most pressing concern was the bout of madness that this whole operation was descending into. He looked at Sparro. He could grasp that this freakishly large songbird was some sort of senior official, but it was hard to grasp him as a vaild authority figure. He was Togovian, born Catawaban. The minotuar outside, the large birds, the vampiric general...all of this was unfamiliar.

It would be good notice however that Quiggles was merely disconcerted by all this strange and supernatural business rather than panicked. Something in this man's past had given him enough to be fairly calm and understanding of the oddities around him. However, that is something for another time.

No, Quiggles didn't find the supernatural offensive, but he did take offense to them lording anything over him. He was a human, by God, a Quiggles, which was probably more important than being a mere human, and an officer, a volunteer officer, which made a damned sight more importance than his species or his family name. He was an expert, an officer, a knight of the air.

He really cared less about senior officers' respects or pardons at moment. He looked to Sonic. "That stunt is not the only problem with this so-called plan."

He turned his attention back to the macro-sparrow and waved a hand towards Winters. "He's right on the button. Mad plans have a high degree of failure. And I suspect that your madness comes from overlooking a few general facts about our situation."

"I don't know about the rest of pilots assembled here, but I have been flying all day long. I first flew a long leg from Catawaba to Ustio. I had hoped to rest there for some minute amount time...but your panic made us hubturn and immediately launch. And mind you, we launched straight into combat. It is no short distance between Ustio and here, and the ensuing dogfight, brief as it was, merely capped off a strenous day."

He snarled with contempt. "Perhaps you subhumans have better endurance than a mere man like myself, but I am damned tired. Were my plane a horse, it would be lathered and foaming at the mouth, ready to drop dead. My craft has sustained combat damage, which needs a thurough maintence review."

He shook his head. "My own fatigue aside, there is the state of this 'squadron' as you wistfully call it. I am as glad as anyone to see Squadron Leader Winters returned hale and hearty, but our dogfight just signaled our deficiencies. We have not flown together save for this flight here. We have no unit cohesion, and as much as I admire any romantic vision of a ragtag group of heroic knights errant tiliting at giants for the fair ladies we defend, I have enough sense to realize the difference between romanticism and suicide."

He looked the bird up and down. "So that is the reason why am not 'keen' to do something monumentally fraught with failure. I don't give a fig for being remembered as I'll be dead, stupidly, foolishly, dead."

"Thank you Quiggles" said Merlin "It's now up to you what we do - we do need time to repair damage and get some sleep, but after that, it's your choice"

Quiggles turned on Winters. He looked the man over, wondering what had been shook loose in that crash "Sir, any command I hold is void upon your return unless you or the squadron decides that you are unfit to command."

"No, my desicion just before my little...mishap still stands" he said, a slight smile coming to his face. He had a lot of respect for Quiggles - his style was a no-BS one, and Merlin liked that in him.

"Your desicion, sir?" he asked

Well, now that was a long speech, Andrew thought to himself. Well, at least Mr. Quiggles is on top of his game. But Mr. Hal's releasing command to Mr. Quiggles? What mishap? What? I missed something. And the general's a vampire? But my brother, Kevin... he's not entirely alone?

Andrew spoke up. "Um... what is this mishap... you guys are talking about?"

"I sort of got shot down during our first encounter with Kulikovian Fighters - as I went down I guessed I wasn't going to make it, so I passed command to Quiggles" Merlin explained to him

"Which is why i'm no longer flying a Spitfire"

"We have a standard procedure about flying and I'm not sure if it exists in your air forces," started a snappy Sparro. "But when risky missions like these happens, we allow our pilots two days to rest, sleep, repair their aircraft and re-stock their ammo supply. Besides, the Lynion's aren't due to their positions for at least two days,"

"Well, that's good" Merlin said to the others "If you don't mind, i'm going to get some sack time"

"I sort of got shot down during our first encounter with Kulikovian Fighters - as I went down I guessed I wasn't going to make it, so I passed command to Quiggles" Merlin explained to him

"Which is why i'm no longer flying a Spitfire"

"You went down, sir! But you look fine." Andrew scrutinized him.

"We have a standard procedure about flying and I'm not sure if it exists in your air forces," started a snappy Sparro. "But when risky missions like these happens, we allow our pilots two days to rest, sleep, repair their aircraft and re-stock their ammo supply. Besides, the Lynion's aren't due to their positions for at least two days,"

"But the mission... digging a hole all the way to Kulikovia? Yah right."

Sparro had finally had enough of the smart alec. Vamp pulled out his pistol for a moment as he waited to see what Sparro was going to do.

"Have you not taken a moment to listen what I just told you?" snapped Sparro as its beak came so close to the pilots face it nearly touched the mouth of the pilot. "We have dug a hole that has gone right under their Command Post in Fungi. Our boys have being digging just so that a bunch of idoitic so called 'Ace' fighter pilots can come in here and we never forced you to come here. If you don't want to take part in the mission, then use the door. In the mean time, you'll be following sub-Human commands and if you don't like it, then go back to where you came from!" yelled Sparro at the top of its voice. "And that goes for any of you lot. If you don't want to take part in the final stage of the war, then you can all bloody go home!"

"Woah, let's all calm down here!" called Merlin "We're all on edge here - let's get some rest"

"You went down, sir! But you look fine." Andrew scrutinized him.

"Well, I guess I got lucky" he said to Andrew

Sparro had finally had enough of the smart alec. Vamp pulled out his pistol for a moment as he waited to see what Sparro was going to do.

"Have you not taken a moment to listen what I just told you?" snapped Sparro as its beak came so close to the pilots face it nearly touched the mouth of the pilot. "We have dug a hole that has gone right under their Command Post in Fungi. Our boys have being digging just so that a bunch of idoitic so called 'Ace' fighter pilots can come in here and we never forced you to come here. If you don't want to take part in the mission, then use the door. In the mean time, you'll be following sub-Human commands and if you don't like it, then go back to where you came from!" yelled Sparro at the top of its voice. "And that goes for any of you lot. If you don't want to take part in the final stage of the war, then you can all bloody go home!"

"Well, sorry," said Andrew, steaming a little bit now and sitting down, but getting more serious. "So we fly through the hole, and bomb the heck out of everyone. It seems simple. Except for the 'fly through the hole' part. And I have no problem with 'sub-human commands', I just think this is ludicrous."

OOC: Am I really annoying you, Lynion, that much?

OOC: It's all of us, not just you.

OOC: It's all of us, not just you.

OOC: Oh, OK. It's just that in all my RPs I always tick off some character, and I have no clue if the real player is actually ticked off or not. So, OOCly, are you feeling bad Lynion?

OOC: You ticked off Sparro.

IC:

"Vamp..." started Sparro as he turned to face the Lynion. "...if there's anymore questions, answer them the best you can...I need a moment outside,"

Sparro hopped along and opened the door as he left the room in silence. Sonic and the other Lynion pilots suddenly felt down as they turned to Andrew.

"You really needed to tell him that the plan is going to fail didn't you?" snapped Sonic as he glared at Andrew before he stood up.

"Sonic sit down," snapped Vamp as he turned to the pilots. "Now I'm not sure what you guys know but Sparro doesn't have anything left except his nest. His family is dead, his wife, children, parents, brothers and sisters are all bloody dead. We don't expect you to know this, but when he heard about a capable Ace Squadron capable of doing the most idoitic tasks he ever heard, he requested that you come to Fungi. It wasn't the Fungi Master or Sonic that requested your support. No, it was a bird that doesn't have much to live for and he put so much hope into you and was confident that you could bring an end to the war. And guess what? You go ahead and shot him down simply because you can't deliver the faith he has in you back into him! Now, shut up! This war is going to end and in two days time you're going to be spear heading the assault. Now I didn't have much faith in the hole but when I saw it, I realised it can be done with skilled fighter pilots but it seems we're going have to look somewhere else for skilled pilots,"

Somehow Vamp had this power to make the room go silent and he was using it at that very moment.


OOC: I'm off to bed so be nice to Sparro until I get up in the morning.

F***, f***, f***, Andrew thought to himself. What have I done? He hung his head. For once, he had no reply to anyone else.

He thought about his brother, Kevin-yes, a vampire. And then Sparro. So similar-except Sparro had it real bad. I will pull out this mission. Why did Dad have to put me here? Oh well, I will try to do my best.

OOC: Okay. BTW Lynion, the F-51 and P-51 are the same aircraft, it was simply the result of the change of designation in the US Air Force after WW2 - F = Fighter replaced P = Pursuit.

IC:

Merlin walked across the flightline. Past Quiggles P-38, Andrew's P-47 and Sonic's P-51. At the end was his P-46 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xp-46). An upgraded version of the P-40, he had flown the original prototype early last year - it wasn't brilliant. However, this version had been heavily modified so that it was on par with the P-51. It was silver, with the URAF roundels on the wings and fuselage. On the engine cowl was some nose art - a wizard in a purple robe with the word "Merlin" written underneath. He chuckled at this.

'God, I hope we get through this' he thought as he gazed at the stars above.

OOC: sorry guys i was on vacation lol

OOC: Not really that much liar.

Ooc: Nubcake

Ooc: Nubcake

OOC: I would continue this except continuing this is unprofession.

*in a whisper* you need new insults! You've only called me nubcake for the upteenth time now!

But seriously, post ICly now or don't post at all.

"I want everyone to go get some sleep. We all started off edgy and I won't ask the next question until the second day from now," finished Vamp in a cool mood. "The barracks are to be used by you for the next day so get some shut eye before the grand finale,"

dot dot dot dash dash dash dash dot dash dash dot.

Andrew quickly left the room almost before Vamp stopped talking. Turning a left to go out to the hangar, he wasn't done quite yet for the night.

Locating the communications office, he received approval for a letter to his parents in Kenavt. It would cost a fortune, but Dad would cover it.

Hi Mom and Dad,

I'm... well, I can't tell you. But we're at the forefronts of the attack against Kulikovia, right in the action. Today our squadron leader got shut down, but he survived.

All I can tell you is that we're planning something. Soon. Otherwise, not much to report.

Sincerely,

Andrew

Noticing Hal, he said a quick hi and left to try and go find the barracks.

Half an hour later

"Is this it?" Andrew muttered to himself. It seemed like he had explored the whole base. Noticing basic beds in the room, he thought that it was.

In the corner was a double bunk with a notice on it. He couldn't help but go and read it. Top Bunk: Lieutenant Andrew da Vincho, it read.

The top bunk? That's offensive. Well.... I am probably the youngest here... that's a cruel joke. Andrew resolved to bring it up with Vamp or someone next time he saw them.

Climbing into the covers, he was almost ready to go to bed. However, inside his bag was the latest Henry Holows book. Andrew couldn't resist grabbing it-he had been sleeping before bed for years now.

Curling up, he was soon deep inside his book.

Quiggles remained behind in the briefing room as the rest of his pilots filed out. He dropped into a rigid, precise parade rest. He waited until he was alone with Sonic and Vamp. His deep blue eyes were hard, his expression official. Whatever 'power' that Vamp so possessed to enforce his will upon the other pilots had little to no effect upon Quiggles. It could be that Quiggles knew a thing or two about vampiric abilities, perhaps he had some other mystical or divine heritage, perhaps it was his officer's willpower, or the fact that he was entirely, righteously indignant. No power but the divine could keep him silent. "Since Hal Winters has decided that he no longer wishes to command the volunteer 'squadron'..." Squadron, it was barely a flight. "...I retain command of it, and thus I have responsibilities to the men under me."

"I understand Sparro's loss, and my pity goes to him. However as I have observed, his loss and his bare grasp on his emotions compromises the objectivity that is needed to plan, organize, and carry out an attack of this magnitude." His words were measured and hard.

"I have no oppostion to defending your country against the Kuliks. That's what I damn well came here for, but I will not risk my life and those of my men is such a wasteful manner." A sneer grew briefly on his face. "As for finding 'more skilled pilots,' seeing the paltry few that responded to your first call, I suggest you don't look a down gun barrel of a hired gun willing to fight for you."

He turned and waved a hand in the direction of the flight line. "We haven't even had time to learn to fly in formation with each other. We don't have wing pairs. We're a bunch of slathering jackals in the air, and one day won't make us competant enough to hack flying in such close proximity and with such precision as will be required."

"Whatever hopes you have pinned on us are unrealistic. I tell you that so you may have some time to consider the ramifications to your plans. None of us have flown a pursuit aircraft through a cavern. It's unheard of and reckless."

Quiggles took a deep breath. "The plan is not unsound with some modification. At the battles of the Somme and Petersburg, large tunnel systems were dug underneath enemy lines and packed with massive amounts of explosives. The ensuing explosion opened up horrendous gaps in the opposing front. That sort of plan would be better than trying to fly a squardon of aircraft through a cavern."

"We could use the gaps wrenched in their lines to fly straight over their lines, unmolested by anti-aircraft fire. As a plus, a massive explosion of that sort will put the other Kuliks into a daze, prime for strafing. We can play hell on our way through and then climb up to keep any of their Yaks from coming to repulse your advancing ground forces."

Vamp didn't move as Sonic listened to the conversation. Sonic rolled his eyes as he listened to the people talking before a runner burst through the door.

"I said to..." started Vamp.

"Sir, don't mean to jump in on you but the Lynion's have being bogged down somewhere to their positions. They're considering changing targets and they'll be in position within a weeks time," said the runner.

Vamp shaked his head for a moment.

"Listen," started Vamp as he turned to the others. "What if...what if...what about we change the plan but we don't tell Sparro? What if, instead of heading towards CP through his idea, what about we allow the Spiders to do their job but we fly straight into it?"

"What you mean going straight at their outer defence's? That's sounds more reasonable but wouldn't we take higher causilities?" replied Sonic.

"Not unless we time everything right," replied Vamp. "The Fungi Diggers punch a hole through their CP and dirvert their attention once the Lynions attack to the north. While they are looking back..."

"...We attack straight at them while opening three fronts and diverting their attacks, thus making them weaker," finished Sonic. "What about Sparro?"

"That'll be hard but I think I got it," replied Vamp as he thought about it for a moment. "The Lynion's are the crazist pilots in the world so most of them will go through the cavern. The rest of the Ace Squadron will spear head straight at them with at least ten minutes inbetween the attacks. That might actually work,"

Merlin wasn't sleeping. Ever since the crash, he'd been more awake

'Wait, was it since the crash, or since I had that injection?' he thought to himself

dot dot dot dash dash dash dash dot dash dash dot.

Andrew quickly left the room almost before Vamp stopped talking. Turning a left to go out to the hangar, he wasn't done quite yet for the night.

Locating the communications office, he received approval for a letter to his parents in Kenavt. It would cost a fortune, but Dad would cover it.

Hi Mom and Dad,

I'm... well, I can't tell you. But we're at the forefronts of the attack against Kulikovia, right in the action. Today our squadron leader got shut down, but he survived.

All I can tell you is that we're planning something. Soon. Otherwise, not much to report.

Sincerely,

Andrew

Noticing Hal, he said a quick hi and left to try and go find the barracks.

Half an hour later

"Is this it?" Andrew muttered to himself. It seemed like he had explored the whole base. Noticing basic beds in the room, he thought that it was.

In the corner was a double bunk with a notice on it. He couldn't help but go and read it. Top Bunk: Lieutenant Andrew da Vincho, it read.

The top bunk? That's offensive. Well.... I am probably the youngest here... that's a cruel joke. Andrew resolved to bring it up with Vamp or someone next time he saw them.

Climbing into the covers, he was almost ready to go to bed. However, inside his bag was the latest Henry Holows book. Andrew couldn't resist grabbing it-he had been sleeping before bed for years now.

Curling up, he was soon deep inside his book.

Jerry went back to the barracks to find Andrew on the bunk above him. "Hello Andrew, I guess I finally found my bunkmate," Jerry joked.

OOC: There's no names on the bunks. Find one and its yours until you die.

IC:

Oslo entered the barracks as he noticed two other men already in there. He went along and found a bunk next to a window and threw his sleeping bag and what few things he had with him. He looked across the room as he took a small wisky flask and took a small shot of it before turning to the others.

"Hello, I'm Oslo," introduced Oslo as he looked up to them.

"Hi, I'm Jerry and he is Andrew", said Striker looking at the new comer.

"Ten minutes...get them looking the other way?" Quiggles blurted out. He looked over Vamp and Sonic, trying to comprehend their thinking pattern. "Mates, putting ten minutes between attacks would be fatal. They'd have more than enough time to put themselves back together in some assemblance of order. If you want time delay, you need lower that time perhaps five minutes."

Quiggles walked up the map and tapped down at it. "You never make a military plan that RELIES entirely on what the enemy may or may not do. Take that into contingencies, but dammit man, if you're hoping he'll have his back turned and you can some how get everything on your end to run smoothly, at the same time mind you....then it's all going to come down around your head."

He ran his finger along the front before the enemy command post. "Look, Sonic has it dead to rights. We fly straight over that line, if your intelligence is valid, we'll be shredded. We'd have to fly at high altitude and be no asset to you for air support."

He moved his finger down the dotted lines that indicated the tunnel from the city center to the command post. "You have a massive tunnel that's what? Two hundred feet in diameter or some such? The volume is massive, just imagine how much explosive you could pack in there."

"When you detonate that cache of combustibles, it will not only destroy that section of the Kulik line and create a gap, a crater but most likely also collapse some part of the tunnel further back towards your line. You're going to have to play a bit of theater and retreat from that postion. It doesn't matter if any Kulik tries to take that position, he'll be up from cover and advancing into a trap."

Merlin was sat in the cockpit of the P-46. He had been getting himself used to the gauge locations. He yawned, then dozed off.

As it so happened, Shelby fell asleep seconds after hopping out of his cockpit. He was tired, and beat up. He embraced the black blanket, and slipped into unconciousness.

As he dreamed, images of his life flashed into view. From the time his dad died, to the time he wrecked the old plane. Then that grisly battle. The picture of Winters slamming into that tree was replaying itself horribly. Finally, he was in first person, manning a plane he'd never been in before. He panicked, trying to slow it down, turn it. Anything. Suddenly, a plane was coming straight at him. It held his father, half his face rotted, glaring evilly with what was left. The two collided into a massive firestorm.

"Ah!" shouted Eric, waking with a start. He looked around. It was almost night, and nobody was around. There was also a strange plane he'd never seen before parked by the others. He looked around, and saw nobody.

"What's happening!?" He yelled, hands cupped around his mouth.

"Excatly how much explosivies and what kind what we need to use?" started Vamp as he drew a line of roughly where the tunnel was. "The tunnel is about 300 metres in diameter, so if we were to use an explosive option," Vamp suddenly drew a line about a scale of 1 kilometre from the front line and drew over the line heading towards the CP. "We'll compact it forcing it to go upwards. Is that what you mean?"

"Hi, I'm Jerry and he is Andrew", said Striker looking at the new comer.

"Huh... what? Oh hey Striker, Oslo. Just reading... I think I'm going to go to bed." Andrew promptly put his book away and tried to go to sleep.

[OOC: 300 meters? Around nine hundred feet in diameter?]

The Catawaban turned a raised eyebrow on the Lynion general. "How the hell should I know? I'm the pursuit pilot in the family. If you want that expert answers, you'd have wanted my uncle who's a mining engineer back home. I suggest you find one of yer own because all I have is what I've picked up from all his stories. I can give ya an outline, but don't take me for the Gospels."

He tapped a spot back towards the Fungi lines. "What I know about explosions is that all that force, that power has to go somewhere. If you've got this huge conduit back towards you, then the explosion's going to come back. You'll have to collapse the tunnel near your lines. Again, play it up, pull your men out in a seeming panic before you blow the charges. It'll look like you fouled up."

He shrugged. "Perhaps the Kuliks might fall for it and attack towards that area, but either way it doesn't matter. The cave-in will keep the explosion bottled up right where you want it. The force'll look for another outlet and that's under their CP." He reached forward and stabbed at the blood red dot behind the Kulikovian line.

Quiggles brought his finger back and swept it across the enemy line again. "If you want to maximize damage, you might look to dig up and out from your tunnel up and down the Wolf's line. You put large charges, though relatively smaller than your main charge, in various places...you could create another crater in the midst of his lines instead of behind his lines where their CP is."

Again the Catawaban shrugged. "Specifics...you'll have to figure that out for yourself. As I said, I'm a pilot."

OOC: Its a Lynion General not Fungi

IC:

Sonic rubbed his chin for a moment as the door started to open. Vamp looked up to Quiggles as he thought about it for a moment.

"Thanks anyway," replied Vamp. "So then we'll have to cave it in at some point, make the roof top above weak where the CP is, get our boys out and set the charges which should take out two positions thus we don't fly in it..." finished Vamp as Sparro came over to him.

"What is this?" demanded an enraged Sparro. "What is the meaning of destorying something we're using to take on the enemy?"

Vamp looked up as Sparro came over to him while the door shut behind him.

"Sir, its a straight path to destruction of the pilots," protested Sonic.

"You've got no idea of what war is do you?" snapped back Sparro.

"Sparro, if you look at the airplanes they don't have flapping wings," replied sharpely back Vamp. "Thier planes will colliade with the walls and themselves, you got any idea how castropheric it'll be? We'll lose the best wings and we won't have any force left to take on the enemy,"

"That's enough Vamp! I'm going to complain and request that you get Court Martial for disobeying orders from your commander!" snapped back Sparro.

Sonic looked at Vamp as he noticed something was different with the eye sight. Vamp's eyes had turned a hellish red and his fangs enlarged. He smiled for a moment and nodded his head.

"you are so right Sparro," started Vamp.

"I told you so," said a proud Sparro.

"I should've done this instead," replied Vamp.

Sparro looked at Vamp as Vamp smashed Sparro's head across with his fist. Blood splattered out of the beak as Sonic watched the feathered body land on the ground. Vamp looked at Quiggles then back at Sparro.

"Sonice did you see anything?" asked Vamp.

"Just Sparro falling back onto the table sir," replied Sonic.

"What about you Quiggles?" replied Vamp as he pulled back his cloak and showed a pistol and a longsword on his belt. "Sparro would've forced the pilots to go through that tunnel but now, we can do it the correct way,"

Having slept, Merlin awoke still in the cockpit of the P-46. He got out and went for a walk, thinking about the plan. He headed for the briefing room where he could see Quiggles through an open door. Then, he suddenly stopped in his tracks

'Pipe' he thought, promptly turning round and heading back to the plane.

"Was it something you ate?" asked a Lynion pilot as he noticed Merlin was walking back to his plane from the breifing room. "Or are you worried about your plane? Actually...what type of plane is it?"

"Err, I don't recall eating anything, sir" Merlin said, an air of suspicion about the pilot "It's a Curtiss P-46"

The vampire looked at the aircraft as he noticed something different about the plane.

"I perfer you don't call me sir because I'm just a pilot," replied the Lynion.

OOC: it's not the ascender, if you look back that was dismantled back in Ustio. The XP-46 was this (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xp-46) prototype fighter which was meant to take over from the P-40

OOC: sorry, my bad. edited my post as well.

OOC: No probelm

IC:

"Suit yourself" said Merlin, retrieving the Pipe from the cockpit of the P-46

Quiggles looked down at the unmoving body of the macro-sparrow. He looked at Sonic. He glanced at the vampire's flaunted weaponry. Finally he looked into the vampire's crimson eyes. Lynion had provided a sizable force in the air. The Catawaban could only assume it was an equal presence on the ground. Now the two Lynions collaborated their lies in the murder of their so-called 'ally.' And here he was a stranger. The writing was on the wall, clear as Sparro's blood on the floor. Quiggles sneered at Sonic, the cowardly bastard, and he felt any respect he harbored for Lynion human or otherwise burn to ashes inside him as his anger flared.

Quiggles did not need to do anything so dramatic as clear a coat away from weapons. He merely had drop his hand to his Webley and haul the revolver from its holster. He thumbed the hammer back as he drew. Mid-draw he turned towards the door. He started towards the open door which he was already near to, snapping off a quick shot as soon as the gun was out and towards Vamp.

He doubted he'd hit anyone, but the report of the large revolver and the .455 round whizzing by and smacking into something would be enough to get their heads down and slow pursuit. He just needed to make it out the door. That was the first step to freedom.

It was looking like his term as a volunteer for the Fungi Air Force was already over before it began.

OOC: he didn't kill him. Just knocked him out cold.

[OOC Thread, Lynion.]

The bullet missed Vamp by an inch as Sonic ducked to the side. Sparro was starting to come around before he fainted again. Two guards entered the office as Quiggles managed to get away from them.

"Sonic go get him!" ordered Vamp.

Sonic turned into a werewolf as he lept out of the office building as he gave chase to Quiggles. The airplanes were being grounded as a storm was massing over the airfield causing a thunderstorm to start. He was beginning to get closer to Quiggles.

[OOC: I ask that no one post any more in this thread until Ustio has a chance to make a verdict on the wild, sudden, and reckless course this thread has taken.]

Huh? What's the racket? Andrew straightened up out of bed. Hmm... better go check it out. Changing into jeans, a T-shirt, and shoes, he walked out of the room and to the runway.

This is the most important place here, after all. Hey-there's Mr. Hal! Merlin was talking to some aide.

"Hey, Mr. Hal. Why are you up so early?"

"I don't know" Merlin replied, lighting the pipe "I guess i'm just not tired"

He looked over at the briefing room

"Did you hear something?" he asked Andrew

"I thought so... that's why I got up. By the way... I was wondering what type of plane you're flying-I don't think I've seen it before."

"That's probably because it was originally deemed inferior to the P-51" Merlin said to him "But this one has been...modified to the same level as the P-51 - It's an XP-46"

He took the pipe out of his mouth and exhaled a small circle of smoke up into the air. He grinned as it floated away into nothing.

"Wait a sec..." Andrew breathed in a bunch of air. "A XP-46! If only I had heard of it... oh wait... I think I remember my squadron leader talking about it. Apparently he really liked it, despite its drawbacks... yah, that was it."

He continued. "But my P-47 is as right as rain. It can bomb, it can fight, althought it could use more agility. I'm sure your P-46 does well?"

"I wouldn't know" laughed Merlin "I haven't flown it yet!"

"Then how'd you get it here?" asked Andrew, puzzled.

Merlin stopped before he said anything else - one wrong move, and he'd be finding awkward questions coming his way about the accident. He decided to go with an old favourite.

"In truth" he said, puffing from the pipe "I don't know"

"How can you not know?" Andrew mumbled to himself, then gazed up at the stars. "Sure are a lot of stars tonight.

Quiggles was as oblivious to the stars as Andrew and Hal were oblivious the the forming thunderstorm, Quiggles running for his life, and the abrupt werewolf that was seeking to end said life. Quiggles was oblivious to the werewolf as well, that is until he threw a look over his shoulder. Now congnizant to his peril, the Catawaban wished he could have his blissful ignorance returned to him.

Quiggles turned his attention forwards again. He was going to have think of something. Out in the open of the flight line, the werewolf was going to have the advantage.

He cursed himself mentally. Lelynn Narva, his Taung nanny, had been right after all. She'd tried to get him to take all sorts of crazed precautions before he'd left. She'd thrust wolfsbane, silver weapons and jewelry, and other assorted folk remedies to the 'monsters' she had foreseen. Being the upright, civilized man that he was, he'd brushed it off as poppycock and kissed the seemingly addled old woman on the forehead before leaving. It seems that she wasn't addled as he'd supposed, and her advice would have been a boon in this situation. He also supposed that Lelynn and her aunt, a Taung shamaness, was probably evidence of why there weren't any werewolves in Catawaba that would have caused him to take her seriously.

He knew the gap between him and the werewolf was closing. When it came down to it, any of his options following the logical, rational means leaned towards death. When Occam's Razor, "All other things being equal, the simplest solution is the best," would not suffice, Quiggles's family had often instructed him to follow Arkham's Razer, "All other things being equal, the most insane solution probably won't get you killed."

He quickly ran through his options. A scolding and a rolled up newspaper worked on smaller canines like Ah'ron. However, he doubted he'd find a newpaper handy enough and big enough to intimidate his pursuer. Playing dead was out of the question as that would promptly lead to the most convincing acting role Quiggles had accomplished, with the help of the Lynion behind him of course. Breaking open a battery to get at the silver would be more hazardous to his health than Sonic's, and he doubted he'd make it to the infirmary to get silver nitrate, which is incidentally used as an antiseptic.

No, perhaps Occam's Razor had something to say about Arkham's Razor, because the easiest thing Quiggles could do at the moment was rely on the biological fundamental that all living things generally abhor any sort of bullet wound to the head.

But how to do that without stopping and getting himself killed...

~~~~~~~~~

Half a world away, an old woman jerked up in bed. Her hand flew over her wildly beating, runaway heart. "Ner ad'ika..." She whispered in her native Taung'a. Lelynn knew just from her dream that her little Matt'ika was in danger.

She hoisted herself slowly out of bed, old bones creaking. Hunched over with age she made her way over to her yiam'jota, household shrine to the Taung gods and spirits. She struck a match and lit a trio of candles before the image of the Virgin Mary, specifically the Black Madonna of Częstochowa. However as the old woman began to pray, she did not address a Christian diety. She prayed quietly, fervently to Mira for the Matron Goddess to watch over ner Matt'ika, her little Matt.

Merlin saw Quiggles pelt out the door of the briefing room

"Uh oh, what's happened now?" Merlin said to himself, watching Quiggles.

Merlin ran over to by him

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked him

Sonic watched as Merlin had joined Quiggles. It was getting worse as the storm was coming directly over the airfield which was worse as a plane was attempting to land.

"All hands! Get off the airfield! Incoming!" shouted a voice over the PA system.

Sonic suddenly stopped as he looked up and noticed the plane was suddenly struck by lightning.

"Quiggles! Vamp just saved the lives of everyone pilot, man and all those blasted pilots that are going to fly in a weeks time. If we let Sparro lived, he would've Court Martial the slightest pilot that went against his orders," shouted Sonic as he came closer to the two. "Yes, I know its wrong to kill your commanding officer and Vamp is going to go into exile after this war is over. Justice will be given to Vamp, but we need him if we're going to end this hell forsaken war! I'm going to let Vamp get away with this, but we need him like these people need your squadron," shouted Sonic as he kept his distance from them. "Do you have any idea how much moral you gave them at the sight when you came? You gave them hope and now they have faith that they can win this war! I don't blame you for your actions, but there's time to go by the book and there's time when we just need to do it differently. Would you come back now?" finished Sonic.

Let's give Cat a chance to reply

OOC: Fair enough

OOC: This is now Closed - no more posts of any kind if you please. I'll explain in my last post in the OOC thread.