As the situation ignited both figuratively and literally, the wanton destruction which erupted left Putnam in shock. His jaw dropped and eyes widened, his hands tensing on the controls, idly easing out of his heading as to not cause him to push back into his seat violently. Blinking rapidly, he traced the seam lines of his 360 monitor with his bright blues. A bright blinding light of pink-red sailed off to his right, rattling the cockpit with its force, marking out his target.

[color=steelblue]"Titch to all, acquired one times bogey, breaking off to run interference."[/color] He called his target as if he'd done it a thousand times before, but his voice twinged as he pulled the yoke, breaking off from the formation.

His other hand drifted to the digital display screens set front and to the left and right of the stick. Glancing down, and with two button presses, the display lit up with the code 'IR-MSL - 4/4'. Gripping at the second stick now, Putnam jinked the frame of his Jesta around to throw off incoming fire, with another beam shot going wide, this time off his left. The shoulder shield mounted on the suit's left shoulder broke loose on one end with some movement of the leftmost stick, and exposed the missile pods buried within.

Aligning the shield, a reticle of green formed on the front of the 360 monitor, and an idle beeping tone filled Putnam's ears, the reticle drifting, settling, shrinking. The tone screamed now, a solid yell inside the cockpit.

[color=steelblue]"I've got a tone! Fox two!"[/color] Titch cried, depressing the trigger on the stick, releasing two missiles.