darkjigglypuff
Borderline Troll
Herman Blake
U.N.
Engaging Hostiles, Pyrite, Orre
Aztec 7 and I begin to loop around, starting out on our second attack run, hoping to disable enough Black Alpha targets to let our ground-boys out of that mess. Our aircraft bank hard and right, leaving Aztec 6 to regroup with the U.N.S. Red Crown. I look out to my side as I begin turning wide, happy to see that Aztec 7 is still holding formation with me. We'll do as many passes as it takes to--
"SHIIIITTT!!" I suddenly hear a cry from Aztec 6 over the radio. Before I can respond to his cry, I and Aztec 7 are almost immediately under assault from a barrage... of clone Chimera!? All the same damn one! Some sort of black, Scyther-like assailant, a hundred times over- wielding a scythes, were racing towards Aztec 7 and I. Immediately we break formation, and throttle out and away as the swarm draws near, our engines roaring loudly as flame bellows from them. The clones try to course correct, though they end up getting split as Aztec 7 and I go separate directions. I pull slightly to the left, throttling forward. The clones accelerate, trying to keep up with my aircraft, though as I keep up my turn they find it difficult to break their mindless follow-the-leader protocol, all of them tailing my aircraft in an attempt to slice into its rear.
“I CAN’T SHAKE THIS DAMN THING!! ARRGH!!!” I look ahead of me, resting my head back as I begin to circle left—And see, to my abject horror, that Aztec 6’s aircraft has been latched onto by one of these things, and it was violently ripping away at his already damaged aircraft, its Scythe ripping holes into the armor of his aircraft—And a shot straight through the roof of his cockpit. I hear a gut-wrenching scream for all but a moment, before Aztec 6’s line goes dead. My heart goes cold as I watch his burning plane begin to slowly spiral down to Earth, and that thing leaves it. My mind has gone blank, and my eyes just dully follow Aztec 6’s aircraft as it slam into the ground below, vaporizing in a small, orange and yellow burst of flame and scrap. I’ve lost a third good pilot to the Chimera.
“Boss, firing on bandits at your six…” I hear, in the voice of Aztec 7. I’m not really focused on him right around now as I turn my eyes back, noticing that the creature that had just ripped my friend’s aircraft apart was now speeding towards me. “El-Tee, whenever I’m gunning this things, they just disappear. Anything that reaches my bird just disappears, too.” I recognize it subconsciously first, as the signs of a Double Team. A well done Double Team-variant, used to distract us while that son of a bitch attacked and destroyed a fleeing combatant. I watch, slowly, as the Scyther race towards my aircraft, growing faster by the second. I could see the anger in its eyes as it lurched for my aircraft.
I wished it knew the hate in mine as I turned for it, and throttled my stick. For a moment, it seemed I would ram it, pushing my stick hard and letting my engines whine as we approached each other on a collision course. My aircraft begins streaming long lines of white steam, the engines glowing a hot orange as they released their thin jets of flame, and my speedometer quickly rose. That bug and I were just a second away from each other, and neither of us wanted to give up our game of chicken as the last split second approached. I was almost in a trance—I wanted nothing else but to splatter this cowardly S.O.B. over my windshield. But I knew what I was doing.
“Boss, what are you--!?” Aztec 7 began to call, still lancing lines of cannon fire through the Double Team clones chasing behind me I presumes, though they were far too slow to keep up with my nearly super-sonic aircraft. I don’t hear him finish before I jerk my aircraft hard and to the side, pulling on my rightward foil. The airflow around my bird changes, and in an instant, I’m caught in an Aileron roll. I my bird suddenly turns, I hear a loud THUMP, and high-pitched, short scraping, on the bottom as the bug whizzes past, and soon I pass up the flaming wreckage of my wing-mate, Aztec 6… God rest his soul, poor bastard… Black plumes of smoke begin to rise up from the desert floor where my pilot had lost his life, and I look forward towards the setting sun as it begins to cast its ominous purple and orange glow across the landscape. I see a few yellow streaks of twenty-five millimeter rounds streaking past, and I turn away from them as Aztec 7 whizzes past. “God damn, where’s he go!?”
I honestly didn’t know, though I knew that this day wasn’t going to end until one or both of us were blown out of the sky. As Aztec 7 turned back, telling me “Returning to air support, our boys are getting pounded down there,” He tells me. I know it’s true, our soldiers are getting wrecked without air support, and I’m quick to call that in to command. He falls to the left, returning to the city to give CAS to troops on the ground.
“U.N.S. Red Crown, this is Aztec Leader Actual. Aztec 6 is dead, Pyrite heavily contested, Vice Admiral,” I speak, directly to the currently captain of the U.N.S. Red Crown. I trusted Vice-Admiral Lord Derrison to be a ways more competent to Moby when it came to matters like this. “Requesting full launch of reserve fighters in Aztec; over.”
I waited for what seemed like hours for the reply, and I got what I had hoped for. A voice, deeper and smoother than Moby’s, answers my request. “Roger that, This is Derrison Actual” Comes Derrison’s calm demeanor. “Launching Aztecs, 3, 4, 5, 8. Obsidian away, ETA 20 minutes.”
I breath in sharply through my nose, thinking this over for a moment. The image of Aztec’s burning jet, despite its gruesome familiarity to me, was etched into my mind, right alongside the images of the other wingmates I’d lost. I’d promised not to lose another and I’d failed in that regard… How the remaining Aztecs, my remaining… friends will continue to operate under my leadership knowing what I’ve lost? I can’t know, but I know we’re going to need my squadron to hold Pirate, even if we are limping on less than our usual legs. “Copy that. Be advised: Chimera Bandits in the area. Scyther-hybrid, Class Two, call is Sigma Bravo,” I report back, and the radio goes a dull silence.
I turn my aircraft to the left, and am preparing to circle around for that damned Scyther, when I hear my radio crackle with yet another disturbance, that of another distressed man on the ground. “Mayday, mayday, this is Lt. Maxwell Jules!” He calls in, and I can here the crack of rifles bounding around him. “This is Foxtrot Niner, we’re pinned by a sniper! fucker’s good, too! Picked off a HUMVEE, and I don’t know how many damn boys of ours!”
“Roger—“ I start, but I find my voice is in line with someone else’s; Aztec 7’s. I stay quiet a moment, and let him handle this. “This is Aztec 7. Highlight a target, I’ll squash it for ya,” He calls back. I could always trust Aztec 7, Jackson, to take charge even when I couldn’t. Sometimes it led to the butting of heads, but he was a good man, and if he wanted to take this, I’d let him. I got a bigger fish to fry anyways. I have a wing-mate to avenge. He throttles off, and I see an orange square appear, right over the roof of the Super Grand Hotel. Quite a large building, no wonder a good sniper chose it. Though, an even better sniper would have picked somewhere a little more inconspicuous, I’d assume, but that’s not my problem at the moment. I see Aztec 7 heading off for it, and I start searching the skies for my bandit.
“Got ‘em on the scope… Chimera sniper, looks like… tight grouping of them…” That catches my interest momentarily, but I’ve already found something that caught it even more: At my ten o’ clock low, I see the bastard that ripped my third friend out of the sky from me, coming straight at me again. It was almost funny; my bird cruised around three times as fast as he was going, and the only way he’s going to take me on is if I slow down. So I do. “Switching to CBU-47s,” My wing-mate calls, a few clicks to my right and soaring for the hotel. Cluster bombs; nasty things. Bombs that detected when they were around a hundred feet from the target, and would pre-emptively burst into dozens of baseball-sized sub munitions, to saturate in area in explosives. In this case, a rooftop made a valid target, since the exploding bomblets will probably smother the entire roof, as in addition to most anything near-by. The building was about to become unrecognizable in a few moments.
25x137mm CANNON – ARMED
The text in my HUD blinks back on the bottom as I flip my trigger open, and angle myself for the mindlessly-charging Chimera. His clones have all but separated at this point, with a few remaining, but I recognize this one, oh yes. At the rates we’re going, we’re all but two seconds from each other, locked in another game of chicken. This time, nobody’s backing out. Aztec 7’s voice comes in loud and clear over the radio again. “Box 8, away!” I hear, indicating he’s just launched his cluster bomb for that rooftop. I’m not bothered with it though, as I line up my aircraft perfectly with the Chimera at the last second, my finger depressing the trigger.
25x137mm CANNON – FIRING
And like that, a thundering whip of cannon rounds spurts out at a rate of sixty-rounds per second from my whirring minigun, the recoil shuddering my bird as I drag my crosshairs across the fast-approaching, enraged dot…
_____________________________
OOC: Yes, the aircraft did take damage, i.e. the scrape, but because of first-person, Blake doesn't know the extent of the damage yet, since it was on the bottom.
Also, here's an example of how Cluster Bombs work: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYXdk-qTl5U
Also, Thermobarics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkeOHh8AoBM
U.N.
Engaging Hostiles, Pyrite, Orre
Aztec 7 and I begin to loop around, starting out on our second attack run, hoping to disable enough Black Alpha targets to let our ground-boys out of that mess. Our aircraft bank hard and right, leaving Aztec 6 to regroup with the U.N.S. Red Crown. I look out to my side as I begin turning wide, happy to see that Aztec 7 is still holding formation with me. We'll do as many passes as it takes to--
"SHIIIITTT!!" I suddenly hear a cry from Aztec 6 over the radio. Before I can respond to his cry, I and Aztec 7 are almost immediately under assault from a barrage... of clone Chimera!? All the same damn one! Some sort of black, Scyther-like assailant, a hundred times over- wielding a scythes, were racing towards Aztec 7 and I. Immediately we break formation, and throttle out and away as the swarm draws near, our engines roaring loudly as flame bellows from them. The clones try to course correct, though they end up getting split as Aztec 7 and I go separate directions. I pull slightly to the left, throttling forward. The clones accelerate, trying to keep up with my aircraft, though as I keep up my turn they find it difficult to break their mindless follow-the-leader protocol, all of them tailing my aircraft in an attempt to slice into its rear.
“I CAN’T SHAKE THIS DAMN THING!! ARRGH!!!” I look ahead of me, resting my head back as I begin to circle left—And see, to my abject horror, that Aztec 6’s aircraft has been latched onto by one of these things, and it was violently ripping away at his already damaged aircraft, its Scythe ripping holes into the armor of his aircraft—And a shot straight through the roof of his cockpit. I hear a gut-wrenching scream for all but a moment, before Aztec 6’s line goes dead. My heart goes cold as I watch his burning plane begin to slowly spiral down to Earth, and that thing leaves it. My mind has gone blank, and my eyes just dully follow Aztec 6’s aircraft as it slam into the ground below, vaporizing in a small, orange and yellow burst of flame and scrap. I’ve lost a third good pilot to the Chimera.
“Boss, firing on bandits at your six…” I hear, in the voice of Aztec 7. I’m not really focused on him right around now as I turn my eyes back, noticing that the creature that had just ripped my friend’s aircraft apart was now speeding towards me. “El-Tee, whenever I’m gunning this things, they just disappear. Anything that reaches my bird just disappears, too.” I recognize it subconsciously first, as the signs of a Double Team. A well done Double Team-variant, used to distract us while that son of a bitch attacked and destroyed a fleeing combatant. I watch, slowly, as the Scyther race towards my aircraft, growing faster by the second. I could see the anger in its eyes as it lurched for my aircraft.
I wished it knew the hate in mine as I turned for it, and throttled my stick. For a moment, it seemed I would ram it, pushing my stick hard and letting my engines whine as we approached each other on a collision course. My aircraft begins streaming long lines of white steam, the engines glowing a hot orange as they released their thin jets of flame, and my speedometer quickly rose. That bug and I were just a second away from each other, and neither of us wanted to give up our game of chicken as the last split second approached. I was almost in a trance—I wanted nothing else but to splatter this cowardly S.O.B. over my windshield. But I knew what I was doing.
“Boss, what are you--!?” Aztec 7 began to call, still lancing lines of cannon fire through the Double Team clones chasing behind me I presumes, though they were far too slow to keep up with my nearly super-sonic aircraft. I don’t hear him finish before I jerk my aircraft hard and to the side, pulling on my rightward foil. The airflow around my bird changes, and in an instant, I’m caught in an Aileron roll. I my bird suddenly turns, I hear a loud THUMP, and high-pitched, short scraping, on the bottom as the bug whizzes past, and soon I pass up the flaming wreckage of my wing-mate, Aztec 6… God rest his soul, poor bastard… Black plumes of smoke begin to rise up from the desert floor where my pilot had lost his life, and I look forward towards the setting sun as it begins to cast its ominous purple and orange glow across the landscape. I see a few yellow streaks of twenty-five millimeter rounds streaking past, and I turn away from them as Aztec 7 whizzes past. “God damn, where’s he go!?”
I honestly didn’t know, though I knew that this day wasn’t going to end until one or both of us were blown out of the sky. As Aztec 7 turned back, telling me “Returning to air support, our boys are getting pounded down there,” He tells me. I know it’s true, our soldiers are getting wrecked without air support, and I’m quick to call that in to command. He falls to the left, returning to the city to give CAS to troops on the ground.
“U.N.S. Red Crown, this is Aztec Leader Actual. Aztec 6 is dead, Pyrite heavily contested, Vice Admiral,” I speak, directly to the currently captain of the U.N.S. Red Crown. I trusted Vice-Admiral Lord Derrison to be a ways more competent to Moby when it came to matters like this. “Requesting full launch of reserve fighters in Aztec; over.”
I waited for what seemed like hours for the reply, and I got what I had hoped for. A voice, deeper and smoother than Moby’s, answers my request. “Roger that, This is Derrison Actual” Comes Derrison’s calm demeanor. “Launching Aztecs, 3, 4, 5, 8. Obsidian away, ETA 20 minutes.”
I breath in sharply through my nose, thinking this over for a moment. The image of Aztec’s burning jet, despite its gruesome familiarity to me, was etched into my mind, right alongside the images of the other wingmates I’d lost. I’d promised not to lose another and I’d failed in that regard… How the remaining Aztecs, my remaining… friends will continue to operate under my leadership knowing what I’ve lost? I can’t know, but I know we’re going to need my squadron to hold Pirate, even if we are limping on less than our usual legs. “Copy that. Be advised: Chimera Bandits in the area. Scyther-hybrid, Class Two, call is Sigma Bravo,” I report back, and the radio goes a dull silence.
I turn my aircraft to the left, and am preparing to circle around for that damned Scyther, when I hear my radio crackle with yet another disturbance, that of another distressed man on the ground. “Mayday, mayday, this is Lt. Maxwell Jules!” He calls in, and I can here the crack of rifles bounding around him. “This is Foxtrot Niner, we’re pinned by a sniper! fucker’s good, too! Picked off a HUMVEE, and I don’t know how many damn boys of ours!”
“Roger—“ I start, but I find my voice is in line with someone else’s; Aztec 7’s. I stay quiet a moment, and let him handle this. “This is Aztec 7. Highlight a target, I’ll squash it for ya,” He calls back. I could always trust Aztec 7, Jackson, to take charge even when I couldn’t. Sometimes it led to the butting of heads, but he was a good man, and if he wanted to take this, I’d let him. I got a bigger fish to fry anyways. I have a wing-mate to avenge. He throttles off, and I see an orange square appear, right over the roof of the Super Grand Hotel. Quite a large building, no wonder a good sniper chose it. Though, an even better sniper would have picked somewhere a little more inconspicuous, I’d assume, but that’s not my problem at the moment. I see Aztec 7 heading off for it, and I start searching the skies for my bandit.
“Got ‘em on the scope… Chimera sniper, looks like… tight grouping of them…” That catches my interest momentarily, but I’ve already found something that caught it even more: At my ten o’ clock low, I see the bastard that ripped my third friend out of the sky from me, coming straight at me again. It was almost funny; my bird cruised around three times as fast as he was going, and the only way he’s going to take me on is if I slow down. So I do. “Switching to CBU-47s,” My wing-mate calls, a few clicks to my right and soaring for the hotel. Cluster bombs; nasty things. Bombs that detected when they were around a hundred feet from the target, and would pre-emptively burst into dozens of baseball-sized sub munitions, to saturate in area in explosives. In this case, a rooftop made a valid target, since the exploding bomblets will probably smother the entire roof, as in addition to most anything near-by. The building was about to become unrecognizable in a few moments.
25x137mm CANNON – ARMED
The text in my HUD blinks back on the bottom as I flip my trigger open, and angle myself for the mindlessly-charging Chimera. His clones have all but separated at this point, with a few remaining, but I recognize this one, oh yes. At the rates we’re going, we’re all but two seconds from each other, locked in another game of chicken. This time, nobody’s backing out. Aztec 7’s voice comes in loud and clear over the radio again. “Box 8, away!” I hear, indicating he’s just launched his cluster bomb for that rooftop. I’m not bothered with it though, as I line up my aircraft perfectly with the Chimera at the last second, my finger depressing the trigger.
25x137mm CANNON – FIRING
And like that, a thundering whip of cannon rounds spurts out at a rate of sixty-rounds per second from my whirring minigun, the recoil shuddering my bird as I drag my crosshairs across the fast-approaching, enraged dot…
_____________________________
OOC: Yes, the aircraft did take damage, i.e. the scrape, but because of first-person, Blake doesn't know the extent of the damage yet, since it was on the bottom.
Also, here's an example of how Cluster Bombs work: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYXdk-qTl5U
Also, Thermobarics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkeOHh8AoBM
Last edited: