Several Hours Later
7:00pm
Luqa Airport
Malta

Scott was in the briefing room promptly. Kat was already there and waiting, along with the Hercules and helicopter crew. Wolf was there and waiting too, all of them alert, rested, ready and eager. After being bloodied, they were ready to punch back, and more decisively.
He waited patiently for the rest of the squadron to arrive, and once they were all seated, he spoke up.
"Thank you for arriving promptly, everyone. Without any further delays, I'm gonna get right into it. Listen up".
He tapped his tablet, and the screen on the wall behind him sprang to life, with the now-familiar outlines of Linosa and Lampedusa, side ny side with mapped out details, and information boxes highlighting the positions of defences and the enemy they had pinpointed as stationed on the islands.
"Captain Bouchard and I have concocted a plan for our next operation. The goal is to eliminate the ability of the enemy forces on both Linosa and Lampedusa to provide any kind of co-ordinated or focused resistance, and remove any threat to Malta from using the islands as staging points to invade or attack us here. I hope you all got plenty of rest, and this is going to be stage one in a two-stage operation."
He tapped his tablet again, and Linosa remained on screen, while Lampedusa disappeared. Camera stills from Fuka and Aurelie's flight the day before appeared showing the Hind gunships and other helicopters stationed there, along with the air defences. Another window came up, showing naval vessels at sea, with an area of the ocean highlighted to the East of Linosa.
"The squadron will be split into two Elements or Sections for this sortie. First Section will be lead by me, and will be targeting Linosa and the forces there, including the naval vessels currently anchored just off the island. Our main goal will be to destroy the helicopters, air defences, and naval assets. Secondary objective will be to destroy any materiel stockpiled on the island for a potential aerial assault of Malta. First section will be me, Stingray, Kitten, Brightspark and Valkyrie"
He tapped the screen of his device again, and bought up more details, this time emphasising what they'd be up against.
"Our targets consist of four dispersed landing areas and encampments across Linosa; throughout the fields, mostly on the northern half of the island. Each seems to be composed of a number of helicopters of mixed types. We're looking at Libyan aircraft once again, which means a lot of ex-Soviet and a handful of western gear. Mi-24 Hind attack helos; Aerospatiale Pumas, and Mi-17 utility transports. The Hinds are capable of carrying air-to-air missiles, so be aware of them.
"The ground-based anti-air consist of medium-range MIM-23 HAWK missiles on the upper slopes of Monte Rosso, at the center of the island, as well as ZPU and ZU-23-2 anti-aircraft guns mounted on technicals patrolling the island and acting as both mobile anti-aircraft, and also... 'intimidation' for the civilian population. There are six of those, each travelling in a convoy with two other pickups carrying troops.
"The naval assets consist of four osa-class missile boats, escorting two Nanuchka-class corvettes. The missile boats have close-in anti-air guns, which means they can be a problem. The Corvettes have SAMs, as well as AK-630 anti-aircraft and anti-missile guns, and their turret-mounted main 57mm gun can also be used in an anti-aircraft role. They're likely to be our biggest and meanest problem".
He searched out the faces of his section for the upcoming mission in the audience, locking eyes with each of them as he carried on talking.
"Brightspark and Kitten; you'll be going after the helos and the AA Guns.
Valkyrie, you and I will be targeting the ships from the get-go."
He tapped the controls and this time Lampedusa, the larger of the two islands, came up on the screen. In a similar way, the enemy assets were highlighted as they had been for Linosa.
"Section two will be lead by Chevy, with Peacenik, Calico and Sparrow. Your targets will be the hostile aircraft deployed at Lampedusa airport, as well as the remaining Libyan Navy ships in Lampedusa harbour, and any air defences stationed in the Western half of the island. Hostile aircraft stationed there include two flights of two Mirage F1 multi-role fighters, two flights of two MiG-23 Flogger fighters, and two An-32 transport planes. Ships in the harbour are a single Polnocny- Class landing ship, after Peacenik and Chevy's last op managed to sink the converted ferry they were using previously. Air defences seem to be light on this island; a single Hawk battery on the western side of the island away from the populated area, and three ZSU-23-4 Shilkas, spread to the west of the island, but closer to the populated region. They seem to have also set up a mobile radar installation as spotted by Peacenik on her overflight. I'll leave it to Captain Bouchard to decide on the specific distribution of her section". He looked up, his mis-matched eyes searching the audience and looking to Stingray and Jefe in particular, nodding to each of them with that wolfish smile of his.
"Stingray, Jefe; you'll note that I didn't include you just now - that's because I have particular missions for you both. Since you both pilot our stealth aircraft, you're going to be giving our opening left-right punch. I'm tapping you both for taking out the SAMs and the Radar installation. Jefe, you'll be with Chevy's section, so hit the P-19 and the Hawks on Lampedusa. Stingray; you're with me, so hit the Nanuchka's radar first, then the Hawk. We want to blind them, then cripple their ability to hit back at range. Once you've hit those targets, move onto any other targets of opportunity in order of the danger they present. I'll let Captain Bouchard direct you other than that, Jefe; and Stingray, I'll do the same for you as needed once we're in the air".

He hesitated, letting the information sink in for them all, and giving himself a moment to pause and collect his thoughts, before he continued.
"The second stage of the operation, depends on the success of this first part. It is key on us hitting the defences and hostile forces, and eliminating their resistance".
He checked the time on his tablet and nodded.
"Right about now, a second and third C-130 from HQ will be landing. They and Cobalt Heavy will load up with spare armaments, a security force picked from the Maltese Defence force and our own security detachment, and a handpicked crew from the Wolf's maintenance team. Once we've secured the air, and wiped out the defences, we cover the C-130's as they land the troops, maintainers, and supplies. They secure the airport and then we land, re-arm, and refuel. I'll conduct a field briefing on the ground while we turn around on the second stage of the operation"
He looked around, his expression firm and eyes hawk-like in intensity as they flicked from face to face.
"This is our chance to punch back for last night. We're all smarting to get our own back and get back on the leading foot, so let's show our enemies they can't keep us down. Any questions? We're wheels up in thirty minutes".

@Kensai, @AvaP, @Letter Bee, @Smike, @Damo021, @Finetales

Mykhailo Martinez

After finishing the talk with Ayvee, and hopefully deepening their friendship (?), Mykhailo was now listening in the briefing room, with only one question in his mind. Lifting his right hand up like a schoolboy, the youngest pilot asked, "Sir, are we assuming that the foe's aircraft are grounded, or that we can catch them by surprise before they scramble or that they are not flying patrols? Either way, the enemy are going down, whatever they put up."

Two more kills and I have Ace-hood. Two more kills and I make the enemy fear.

Mykhailo reminded himself that he should be careful about avoiding missiles and flak, too. The fraction of a second between his own shot and that of the enemy's; the importance of getting the drop on them and making sure that he had a plan for when someone got the drop on him... He lived for that.

It's a fiction, that you're doing this for the N/UN alone. You don't need the payment - You're rich just like your family. You need the thrill, the action, the adrenaline. And underneath, you want to do it without feeling like you're the bad guy, the one in the wrong, the bully. You want to be the good guy who does this because it's the right thing to do to protect others and stop the horrors of war from reaching you and yours'.

Mykhailo was at peace with himself right now, at peace with admitting, I like being a pilot. I like being a merc. I like fighting while thinking of myself as the good guy.

And honestly... That's fine.

@Damo021@Kensai@Smike@Rhona W@Finetales@AvaP

Fuka Nakano

Fuka dipped her head toward the Wonderkind, clicking her tongue sympathetically.

"Who knows about patrols, but those HAWKs typically have radar attached to them. Kitten's not exactly in a stealth bomber, so they're probably going to become aware of you quicker than you'd like."

The Warthog was iconic, but it was also as subtle as a crop duster towing a banner that said 'TARGET HERE.'

"When Chevy and I flew over they scrambled Mirages, fast. I doubt they've gotten any slower in the day since. This matters more for those of us dealing with Lampedusa; we outnumber their fighters, but if they get airborne, we run the risk of dropping bits of fuselage on the locals' heads. "

Ximena Huang

"Well then, I guess we'd better lead our friends on a merry dance away from the grandparents' timeshare. "

She wasn't overly concerned about collateral damage. She'd do her best to minimize it of course, but when it came down to it she'd put the life of herself and her flightmates ahead of the unfortunate civilians on the ground. Bystanders got roped into war all the time, it was just the nature of the beast.

...that wasn't the healthiest way of thinking. Spycraft and mercenary work had definitely taken a toll on her, twisting her priorities in ways that only intensive therapy could undo. Therapy was of course out of the question, so Ximena had to just focus on being the best combat pilot Shattered ever saw.

"That said, what's the plan if ground forces can't dislodge whoever's left after we have our fun?"

@Letter Bee @Rhona W

Freyja Svensdotter

Freyja was sitting at ease taking notes of what the next operation was a bout, a two pronged attack by the sounds of it and a response to the enemies own failed attempt, the main difference hopefully being that this team won’t fail. She took the time to study the picture that were being shown before her. She nodded to the boss man when he called her name and what her primary role was, she was to be his wingman and target the ships from the get go, Freyja was not going to lose another under her watch, she will have his back no matter what they throw at them, for now, she was already debating weapon load outs internally.

Brightspark then spoke up with a question, a valid one but another one of the fellow sister in arms beat her to the punch in response.
“She is right, by now they should have known about their failed attack, if I was them, I would be expecting us, heck I will be shocked if they didn’t have patrols.” And that was the other issue, the locals could get caught up in the mess, if things go sideways.



Amelia Schön

Amelia was simply swinging left to right in her seat out of boredom, wait for things to get going, OF course once heartbreak started on with the briefing, she immediately behaved herself, well not like she wasn’t going to do anything bad, but when one’s mind gets bored, one tends to do things.

Truth be told her mind was more distracted with thoughts of back home after her conversation with Fuka, she was going to do some digging, maybe even speak with Wolf to get his thoughts on it. Alas her mind had wondered again, her focus snapped back when her name was brought up and she could see the images of their part of the operation, it wasn’t like she was not listening, she was part of the squadron being led by Chevy, so no doubt a little read up on her file would be a must.

Sounded like they would be dealing with or engaging several flights of enemy craft, more likely to stop them from responding to the other team. Amelia was thankful to hear enemy air defence was lighter here, still she should not under estimate them, such things could get you killed if not careful. Still she looked over at her squad CO, gave a slight nod, she would have to wait and see on what the dear captains plan of attack would be for this operation.

@Smike@Rhona W@Letter Bee@Kensai@finetales@AvaP

Scott was surprised that no questions had been raised by the rest of the group. The mission had a lot of moving parts, a lot of targets and many of them weren't exactly a walkover. And then there was his daring - some would say cocky, or even irresponsible - addon to the operation, of taking control of Lampedusa's airport.
Nonetheless, only Mykhailo and Ximena had questions at all.

"Sir, are we assuming that the foe's aircraft are grounded, or that we can catch them by surprise before they scramble or that they are not flying patrols? Either way, the enemy are going down, whatever they put up."

Scott spoke up after both Fuka and Freyja commented, giving acknowledging nods to both Fuka and Freyja for their contributions and comments on the conversation.
"Hopefully the captain's flight can catch them on the ground. We'll have the same AWACS cover to handle long-range observation and direction, so if we use our tactics smart, we should be able to approach with maximum stealth at low altitude using the AWACS coverage and directions to avoid having to turn on our own radar and give ourselves away".

Ximena Huang

"That said, what's the plan if ground forces can't dislodge whoever's left after we have our fun?"

Scott nodded at Ximena's question and smiled to her as he answered.
"Good question, and a smart one. The C-130's have enough fuel and range. We make sure that anything left is as hammered as it can get before a single gnat's ball hair touches ground from our side. If there's anything that the ground team on the C-130's can't dislodge or send running, then we cover them from air while they re-plane and get back in the air, and head back here. The other two Herks won't land until the situation is secure with the ground team anyway - no use throwing all our eggs in one basket. It might be an audaciously bold plan, but no need to make it a stupid one"

He looked around, confident there were no further questions and drew himself up at the podium, clicking off the displays behind him.
"All right; since there's no other questions, I'm gonna assume you all know what's what. Anything else does come up, I'll be gearing up like the rest of you. Wheels up in thirty, see you on the flight line. Dismissed, people!"

Scott gestured to the door, gathering his briefing materials and dawdling in case there were any last-minute questions - of any kind. Kat nodded to him and flashed a smile and a thumbs up as she left; Wolf gave a firm, resolved nod and Lars and Lily both gave waves and nods as they headed out two. The helo crew looked a little subdued; they hadn't been given a part in the op, other than their normal: standing by in case of search-and-rescue and the difficult push-pull of both wanting to do something, but hoping they didn't have to, as it meant one of the pilots would have had to eject, or had otherwise gone down.

Once everyone had filed out, he made his own way out. There wasn't anything else to do; he headed straight for the locker room to gear up, changing into his flight suit and then to the 'survival shop' to fit his G-suit and survival vest, sign out his sidearm, and his helmet.
A short walk took him to the AV-8B, and he walked around the plane with a smile of familiar comfort on his face, reaching out to touch and test the airframe. He'd seen the plane since it had been assigned, come to look at it just because, but it was different now it was all bombed and fuelled up, and he was about to take off in it. A brief conversation with the maintenance tech and he climbed up into the cockpit as they pulled all the safety pins and tags, holding them up for him to see. He was strapped and buttoned in, and the pins removed from the ejector seat, and he hit the engine start, the shrill whine quickly turning to a deeper-throated roar as the big Pegasus engine came to life. Canopy closed, radio on, and he buckled up his mask.
"Cobalt Squadron, this is Cobalt One, ready to taxi and heading for the runway. Takeoff in sequence; Section One form on me. I'll be taking in the sunset from five thousand feet, over"
Scott spoke as he gave a thumbs up to the maintenance crewman who returned it with a salute and stood back as Scott toed off the brakes and the Harrier started to move, nosing out of its' parking spot and rolling along the taxiways toward the runway end. Fully loaded as it was, there was no way the Harrier was managing a vertical takeoff, let alone a STOVL one. It would have to be conventional takeoff this time instead - at least that was safer.
Little to his surprise, Kat's A-10 started moving next, the canopy coming down as she was rolling out of the line and swinging onto the taxiway to follow him to the runway end, the two ground-attack jets making an odd-looking pair.

@Smike, @Letter Bee, @Damo021, @Finetales, @Kensai, @AvaP

Ximena Huang

Ximena didn't like the ground plan at all, but unfortunately she didn't have a good argument against it. Any operation that involved her loitering while some jerk with a Strela searched for her signal was a bad one...but that's just how things went. If the ground crew got cut to pieces, the operation was a bust, and stopping the ground crew from getting cut to pieces meant waiting for targets of opportunity to rear their big, ugly heads.

There was something nagging at her about the setup, but unfortunately there was no planning around it. It was probably nothing anyway and yet-

It nagged at her because everything nagged at her, all the small details presenting themselves as glaring risks. That's what being a spy did; it taught you how to catastrophize. She hated living things undone, every hanging thread a potential problem down the line. She needed them tied down or snipped off, accounted for in some way.

------
She figured it was best to bring the question to Heartbreak privately as opposed to weighing everyone down with heavy details. Instead she caught him on the way out of the locker room, her own helmet tucked under her arm.

"Lieutenant-Colonel, not to make mountains out of molehills, but-"

She shrugged apologetically, well-aware she was doing just that.

"I've never seen flown a combat mission with this outfit. I don't have the regulations down pat, and it occurred to me that once we start knocking out their SAMs and blowing up their planes, the OpFor might panic. If they do turn and start beating a hasty retreat to Libya or wherever they came from, how should we handle it-?

It had been against protocol in Lucky Dog to let the enemy escape if doing so didn't interfere with the safety of the pilot or the wider flight. If you were scrambled against bandits you returned only once you were out of ammo or targets, whichever came last. Shattered Steel seemed nicer, for lack of a better word. Not pushovers or anything, but she wasn't sure if they adhered to her 'it flies, it dies' mentality or if they still held onto some of that old knights of the air chivalry. Seeing Scott's reaction to Brightspark last night, she thought it wise to check with him before she started chasing retreating targets.

@Rhona W

Ximena Huang

She figured it was best to bring the question to Heartbreak privately as opposed to weighing everyone down with heavy details. Instead she caught him on the way out of the locker room, her own helmet tucked under her arm.

"Lieutenant-Colonel, not to make mountains out of molehills, but-"

She shrugged apologetically, well-aware she was doing just that.

"I've never seen flown a combat mission with this outfit. I don't have the regulations down pat, and it occurred to me that once we start knocking out their SAMs and blowing up their planes, the OpFor might panic. If they do turn and start beating a hasty retreat to Libya or wherever they came from, how should we handle it-?

Scott paused as he was on his way out of the locker room, his own helmet tucked under his arm. He listened intently as she spoke, before nodding in understanding as he replied.
"I understand, Jefe. And I don't blame you at all for having some concerns; things were definitely thrown off a lot with the action last night. I wanted to get us up to do more training flights, but time's against us."
He paused as he chose his words, regarding his fellow pilot with a... not 'critical', but measured glance, thinking over what he'd read of her record and her skills, before placing a friendly hand on her shoulder and giving a light, reassuring squeeze.
"We probably do things a little different in Shattered Steel; but if you're here and assigned to a squadron, then you already know all you need to about the regulations". He gave a grimace and shook his head. "We plan the brief, brief the plan, and fly the plan, but you know how the saying goes; 'no plan survives contact with the enemy'. So we have to do our best sometimes and rely on our training to keep up sharp and flexible enough to react to unexpected changes. But you don't need me to tell you how to suck eggs; you've got the experience to know that yourself. If they do turn tail and start running for the hills rather than putting up a fight, well, that makes our life a lot easier. We let them run, and consolidate our hold while planning our next move. Although, given what we've seen, I don't think they're likely to do that - if they were going to retreat, I don't think they'd have dug in like they have".
He tilted his head and gave a slight shrug as he gestured toward the door leading to the flight line. "I hope that helps clear things up. I'm looking forward to seeing what you and that fancy sled of yours can do up there; I think it's the most advanced jet we've got in the squadron. Probably one of the most advanced in Shattered Steel. Anything else I can help you with, now's the time to ask"

This was at least something Ayvee had been trained to do. As Scott explained the nature of the mission, Ayvee had pulled out her tablet and started taking notes, analyzing the suspected target locations, and marking down key landmarks and features. It seemed not the best time to bring up her reservations about the current situation of the base. That said, it was immediately an apparent escalation, and it became evident that this job was becoming less and less of a cake walk she'd looked forward to.

Once things were laid out and cleared, she got up and headed over to the lockers to get suited up. There was that old, growing feeling of excitement to it all. Despite all that had happened, in fact, because of it, it was a relief to be able to get up in the air and do what she was good at. SEAD missions were nothing out of the ordinary and even an extra thrill. The game of cat and mouse between her and the ones on the ground was always exhilarating... when they were competent. Thanks to her stealth and training, it was often a... one-sided game of chess.

---

A deep sigh escaped her as she finished gearing up. Calming the nerves, getting focused, pushing that building excitment and anticipation down. Ayvee stole herself for a moment, before grabbing her flight helmet and making her way out fo the locker. As she exited, she came up on Scott and her fellow stealth pilot. Ayvee wracked her head trying to remember the woman's name, but with all that had happened and how quickly it had, all she remembered was her callsign.

It'd have to be enough.

Walking up to introduce herself, she caught the tail end of the conversation. "If they do turn tail and start running for the hills rather than putting up a fight, well, that makes our life a lot easier. We let them run, and consolidate our hold while planning our next move. Although, given what we've seen, I don't think they're likely to do that - if they were going to retreat, I don't think they'd have dug in like they have, ". Scott said with a shrug. He gestured toward the door leading to the flight line. "I hope that helps clear things up. I'm looking forward to seeing what you and that fancy sled of yours can do up there; I think it's the most advanced jet we've got in the squadron. Probably one of the most advanced in Shattered Steel. Anything else I can help you with? Now's the time to ask" he finished.

Ayvee put on a good-natured smile and playfully elbowed Scott as she came up behind him. "Hey now, my air frame might be a bit older, but don't discount what I put under the hood! Though I guess it doesn't hurt to have two invisible planes," she then looked to Jefe. "I say a good rule of thumb in this line of work is if you ain't being paid to blow something or someone up, then don't! You and I know how expensive upkeep can be for our birds, so best not to waste ammunition when you can help it." Ayvee said evenly. She extended a hand to her squadmate as she explained, "You're Jefe right? I'm Stingray. Had trouble coming in, so I only just got back into the saddle. We'll probably get paired up more in future missions thanks to our birds unique talents, so good to meet you." She finished good-naturedly.

@Rhona W@Smike

Freyja Svensdotter

Once the briefing had finished and the teams started heading out, Freyja, had already forwarded her load out options to the ground crew before it had finished. She headed her way immediately to the locker rooms to get herself all suited up for the mission ahead. She did her some conversation on the way over but didn’t interject herself in it, focusing on the mission at hand.

Once she was suited up in her G-suit and so forth, signing out her weapon and grabbing her helmet, she made her way over to the crew finishing up on prepping her aircraft. Taking in a moment to look over her craft, Freyja then fist bumped one of the tech crew before climbing in and getting herself buckled up and helmet on, performing a few pre-flight checks before getting the thumbs up from another member of the ground crew. Then the sound of her bird coming to life as she fired up its engine.

Saluting the ground crew that signalled her to taxi to the run way, she followed behind Scott and Kat. As the canopy closes down as she did so. “This is Cobalt 6 to flight lead, can hear you five by five, See you at five thousand feet, over.” She awaited her turn to go, smiling at the old birds in front of her. It was like staring history in the ass. Soon enough she was on her way after they took off.



Amelia Schön

Amelia had made her way out after the briefing, she was oddly quiet, her time spent with Fuka had her mind distracted, but she had to put it to the back of her mind, there was a mission to do and being distracted would get someone killed, in all honesty this mission would be a dam good distraction and help refocus her mind. She had got into her flight suit, G-suit etc. sign out her gear and made her way to to where her Typhoon was parked, being prepped for the mission ahead.

Amelia noticed Gunther was nearby and took a moment to go over and speak to him. Rested her helmet under her arm while doing so. “Dad, you got a moment?” her voice catching his attention from what he was doing. “Of course, what is wrong?” his voice a little gruff as always.

Glancing around for a moment to ensure other ground crew nearby didn’t hear her. “Hmmm, well I have a few things playing on my mind, I guess they can wait, mission and all, but I had a very interesting conversation with peacenik, and something feels off on how I was brought here.”

“Off?” he queried. “Yeah, it’s like I didn’t have a choice… Look we will have to catch up on it later. I promise” Amelia replied pointing her thumb over her shoulder back at her typhoon. “Very well, just remember your training and look out for yourself out there, you have very capable pilots up there with you, so come back in one piece and look after my bird.” Gunther replied before giving a kiss on Amelia’s forehead. “Don’t you mean our bird.” She teased giving him a hug and quickly making of to her plane.

She climbed in and strapped herself in before placing her helmet on, and doing the various start up procedures as she watching section one take off one after the other, it was not long before she was already creeping out from her formation and taxing to the runway herself, beating the others in her second group, eager to get up in the air.

Ximena Huang

It was more or less what she expected. Shattered didn't play for keeps, at least not in the way she was used to. Call it barbaric or unsporting, but she didn't consider an enemy neutralized until they were on the ground with their hands up or falling out of the sky in a blackened wreck. She wasn't so berserk that she'd chase someone to the ends of the earth in neglect of the mission itself, but not pursuing when possible? That struck her as odd; imprudent even.

But she had jumped ship from the outfit she was used to, so she had to learn the new rules.

"Understood, boss." she nodded, adjusting her glasses. "I'll prove my worth."

That's why she was here.

Someone interrupted them, a pilot Jefe recognized from the files but had yet to meet.

"A pleasure, Stingray. I thought I spied a fellow seabird. It'll be fun to fly with you."

She was curious to see how the Seahawk handled in combat. She had never flown the thing, but as far as she knew the Nighthawk was no knife-fighter. Upgrades were all well and good, but until Ximena watched it work she would be skeptical.

The same could be said for Stingray herself. She wasn't the youngest in the squadron (Mykhalio was a story XImena simply did not understand) but she was allegedly another whiz kid, which meant Ximena was-skeptical was too strong a word. It was more that she was waiting to be impressed.

Hell, with her natural prodigy vibe and her rich-kid-politician's-daughter background, Ayvee was a miniature Fuka. At least one of them didn't have a pole up their ass.

-------

Soon enough she was taxiing out onto the runway, sunglasses replaced by her helmet visor. She followed along with the others, taking off and falling into formation just above her flightmates.

"Jefe signing in. Unless you've got other plans for me, Captain, I'm going to ride nice and high in the cloud cover away from the group as we get close to target. They'll pick up on you guys before me, I'll rush in and hit their radar before turning around to help with the actual fight."

Fuka Nakano

Fuka wasted no time suiting up, as ready and willing as ever to get airborne. This time she wasn't playing around with SLAM-ERs and stationary targets, oh no. Scott had seen fit to use her properly, sticking the Black Bunny with a bunch of air-to-air missiles and wishing her happy hunting.

Perfect. Any other role was, while perhaps important in the moment, ultimately a waste. Recon, surgical strikes, the destruction of enemy assets and supply lines, all key components of warfare but Fuka was first and foremost a Ranger. She did Direct Action: raid camps and kill people. They said that when all you had was a hammer everything looked like a nail, and that was true. They didn't mention that a lot of problems could be solved by hammering.

She had swapped the M4 for laser-guided explosives, but at the end of the day she was still a hammer.

"Cobalt 3, comms good." she called out as she followed Jefe in taking off. "I'm ready and waiting. Sticking close to you for the time being, flight lead."

Mykhailo Martinez

Mykhailo listened to Fuka and Freyja, saying, "Whether they're in flight or not, they're going down. I brought down four planes last mission; two more are all I need to join you guys in Ace-hood."

He didn't mean anything bad about that, but he was tired of pretending that his every word was courteous and measured when, in fact, he just wanted to wear his heart on his sleeve, damn the consequences. And right now, wearing his heart on his sleeve meant telling his comrades-in-arms that he wanted to be an Ace and he was going to do whatever it took to the foe's planes to get it. As for the foe's ground forces... If he bullied them when or if they ran for the hills, that would make him a war criminal. Fuka had made it clear what she did to war criminals.

So Mykhailo's next action was to go to his plane and take off, making sure that his maintenance crew received some of his remaining courtesy and warmth. Despite everything that happened, the abuse of one's subordinates was a moral failing from his point of view. Once he soared the skies, they would all pay, the ones who killed Sokolov and threatened the lives of Shattered Steel's personnel for a cause opposed to his own.

Let go, Mykhailo, his mind whispered as he thought of the skies he would be flying in. Don't taint the heavens with your hate.

He hated. He despised the fact that he hated others. But he cannot pretend he didn't hold a burning rage in his heart.

But he will keep letting go again and again until the poison in his soul is drained away. For Artemio, he can do nothing else.

@Damo021@Kensai@Smike@Rhona W@Finetales@AvaP

"Likewise, it will be fun to see that swept-wing beast in action. My plane isn't as cumbersome as its ancestor, but I think I'll still the fancy acrobatics to." Ayvee said, grinning.

---

Stingray taxied out behind onto the runway alongside the rest of the squadron, the navy blue of the aircraft starkly contrasted by the almost cartoonish shark mouth on the underside of the fuselage. Painted on the V-shaped tail, the opimitmus "Stingray" was displayed in all its pancake-like glory. Ayvee sat in the cockpit, face now obscured by her flight helmet and visor, as she went over her final run-up checks. The cockpit was filled with a far more modern interface, featuring larger LED displays, a touchscreen, and a slot to hold her digital touchpad for ease of flight plan use. She jerked the controls back and and forth, left and right, pressing the peddles and testing the brakes for a third time. Weapons successfully read "STANBY" on the display as she cycled the arming switch, engine and system indicators reading green across the board.

All was ready.

"Cobalt 4 following Cobalt 3 in departure," she announced smoothly as the throttle opened and the plane began to roll. The blue flame of the afterburner roared with delight as the Seahawk began to rapidly pick up speed. Before long, she was up into the air and into the clouds.

---

"Jefe signing in. Unless you've got other plans for me, Captain, I'm going to ride nice and high in the cloud cover away from the group as we get close to target. They'll pick up on you guys before me, I'll rush in and hit their radar before turning around to help with the actual fight."

Ayvee nodded, agreeing with the idea. She chimed in right after.

"Stingray here, cap, proceeding with SEAD operations as well against designated targets. Jefe, I'll have the ECM up, should be able to handle their main radar, no problem, not that you need it. Hawks should be easy pickings after. Should have enough ordnance left over to support ground ops. Breaking off to commence op!"

With that, Ayvee pulled the aircraft up and pushed the throttle forward to quickly gain altitude and take position.

"Alright, Reagan, time to clock in."

@Smike@Rhona W

Yuna listened intently to Heartbreak as he conducted the briefing. She would be in Chevy's flight, and was excited for the opportunity to see if Chevy could back up her French haughtiness with a strong performance as a flight lead. The mission seemed straightforward enough, and Yuna's eyes brightened at the mention of her section's primary targets being aircraft. Her wait was almost over!

With no questions after the briefing and a 30 minute call, Yuna got straight to business and headed towards the barracks. Once geared up, she headed straight for her ride, walking past a good portion of the other planes in the squadron as she did so. She knew the squadron had an eclectic mix of aircraft from reading everyone's files, but seeing them all in person was a different experience. She took particular note of Jefe's blue camo F22N, and whistled as she walked past it. It might have made her Sukhoi seem like ancient technology, if she didn't know all the upgrades it had...and how capable she was at its controls.

Shortly, Yuna arrived at her Su-33. Yuna was biased, but she felt her plane was still the best looking, thanks in no small part to the gorgeous red, white, and black camouflage. After a quick chat with the maintenance tech, Yuna climbed into the cockpit and got strapped in. After giving a thumbs up to the maintenance crew, she fired up the Su-33's engines. "Selamat, Naga Merah," she greeted the plane in Malay. "Hope you didn't miss me too much." Moments later, she was taxiing in sequence with the rest of the squadron. In front of her was Stingray's striking F117N, which made Yuna smile. Cobalt Haze was certainly not lacking in badass planes.

Once Cobalt 4 cleared the runway, it was Yuna's turn to depart, and she was given clearance to line up and take off. She lined up on the runway and set full takeoff thrust, smiling as she was pinned back in her seat. One length of runway later and she was finally, joyously, back in the air. "Cobalt 8, forming up," she called on the radio. "I'll go 8 out of 10 on that sunset."

As the last of the squadron's planes slotted into formation, Scott spoke on the shared channel as he banked the Harrier out of the holding pattern and on course to the islands that were their target destination.
"All aircraft, follow your flight leads for the operation as briefed. See you on the other side and good hunting, over".
Scott separated in height and distance from Chevy's flight, the feet spreading quickly into miles with the vastness of the sky between them. As they flew, the formation of jets ate up the distance quickly. Even at subsonic speeds, they were still travelling at hundreds of miles per hour and Linosa was less than a hundred miles away, Lampedusa barely over that. He'd pulled his elements of the squadron down to low level, trying to sneak in below radar and disguise them with the ground clutter until Stingray launched her anti-radar attack on the frigate and Jefe did the same with the radar on Lampedusa. Scott kept his radar cold on the run in as part of this too. Any stray emissions would be picked up with ease, and would be a big red arrow pointed at their location. The much more powerful surveillance and tracking radar on the E-2 Hawkeye, Skywatch, orbiting distant from their location but with more than enough range and detail to pick up and track everything on the islands was feeding its' information directly to their planes for the meantime, and providing more than enough information for guiding them in on their intended course for the attack.
He glanced downward, looking at the clock on the instrument panel, listening out for Stingray and Jefe to report in as they made their attacks, and the blips for the radars to wink out. Come on, ladies; do you thing he thought to himself, gloved hand on the throttle tightening and a shift in his ejector seat of impatience and urgency coursing through him...

@AvaP, @Smike, @Kensai, @Letter Bee, @Damo021, @Finetales

Ximena Huang

She did just what she promised, banking away from the rest of the flight to nestle herself high above in the cloud cover. She was lucky that there was any, the remnants of some distant rainstorm having been blown into the Mediterranean but not yet burned away by the incessant rays of the sun.

Good. Everything was in her favor. Assuming she shut up and flew cold Ximena was nigh-invisible to radar, and with her paint scheme she'd be damn hard to spot by the naked eye. By the time anyone realized she existed she would have already sent two thousand pounds of explosive hurtling down at their stupid radar installations.

"Easy does it now, sit right there you little bastards." she murmured, the words heard only by her and the passing clouds. She could see them now, the Soviet workhorse radar and a battery of HAWKs attached to a command trailer. Nice. Cozy. Probably had air conditioner, or at least a water cooler.

"Get nice and comfy, that's right. Pinches ratas culeras, sit in your fucking hole."

She had their coordinates punched in, the P19 first on the chopping block. Ximena hovered a finger over the button, plane cruising slow and steady so she could enjoy the moment. She had never been able to shake the rush she got from having such absolute control, the ability to summon death from on high at will. It was the sort of strength kings used to pray for, destructive ability so overwhelming that men made sacrifices to summon it against their enemies.

She loved this shit.

"Missile away! Bàibài nǎocán!"

She squawked it for everyone to hear, cackling with glee at the rushing whumph of the launch and the split-second delay before impact. The blast ripped apart the antenna, turning a complicated piece of machinery into so much shrapnel. Ximena could see squirters scrambling for cover, a Shilka trundling to life in hopes of catching the attacker. She was out of cover and revealed with no time to hide, no chance to lazily sail around gathering coordinates for a second strike.

Fuck it. Follow the checklist: Balls to the wall, dip the stick forward and crank the throttle, scream down towards the sleepy Italian island at impossible speeds as her body complained at being subjected to sudden extremes in gravity. Take half an instant to marvel at the insanity of her job before pulling up a hundred meters before impact. Hurtle across Lampedusa faster than any creature could dream of, following the curve of the island to buy herself time to line up a shot. See the trailer, pull the trigger, trail a line of twenty-millimeter cannon shot over the ground, burst by burst, until the gun was nearly empty and the command post was blown apart from the inside out. Report a job well done, and bail.


"Radar down, HAWK's dead! Rising before someone gets a shot in at me."

Next step, tilt the nose up and wipe away some of the blood now dripping from infected eye sockets. Grin madly, drunk on power, and pray for some fucking MiG to try and crawl up her ass so she could rip it to pieces.

Scott watched the track on his screens, fed from the E-2 Hawkeye as Jefe and Stingray's missiles flew toward their targets. There was no counter fire; their reactions were too slow. Even if they'd heard or seen the jets approaching their respective targets, the relative ground speed was too slow to do more other than, perhaps, run for cover or scream an alert - by which time, Ximena and Ayvee's bombs or missiles would already be hitting their targets.
And just as he predicted and expected, the tracks showing the enemy radar winked out of existence, and it was proper go time. Skywatch's voice came over the radio, calling out the targets as hit, and Scott picked up the thread.
"Heartbreak, engaging!"
The radar in the Harrier's dark grey nose went active, and in an instant he'd picked out the shape of one of the Libyan navy corvettes. He climbed and throttled up slightly. Already, the ship and its' escorts were nerves-raw. The plume of smoke and flame pouring from the upper works of the warship where the radar had been obliterated by Stingray's attack marked the ship well against the ocean, and was a perfect point to fix his attack. It was mirrored by a second, a short distance away, from the second corvette.
A caress of his thumb, and a duo of five hundred pound GPS-Guided JDAM's were on their way to the first ship, and he was peeling up and away, flares and chaff in his wake to discourage any counter-fire. The main radar might have been out, but the ship had subsidary fire-control radars for other weapons, and they could swat him out of the sky - if he wasn't careful, anyway.
Scooting for the coastline of Linosa to hide against the terrain, he throttled up, the dusky grey of the attack jet a blur against the terrain as he angled around for a reattack.
"Heartbreak; weapons released. All units, engage at will, over!"



Kat listened intently as Scott and Skywatch's words came over her radio. The shoreline of the island loomed ahead, and the ocean passed beneath the straight, ordnance-laden wings of her A-10. It looked low enough that a high enough wave might splash on her cockpit, or she expected the belly of the jet to be wet; but her altimeter still had her a good hundred feet off the deck.
Plenty of room.
She was a pilot trained for ground attack, she was practically soaring at this height...!
The successful call from the anti-radar attack came through, and she gently eased the stick back toward her belly, and the A-10 climbed upward (consciously ignoring the momentary sense of relief), as it crossed the coastline. Ahead, her targeting pod bracketed a trio of helicopters parked in a field, and the support equipment around them, getting closer rapidly. One of the three, a Hind gunship, had rotors turning, and a second Puma had it's own starting to slowly turn.
"Kitten, engaging!"
She slid the laser point of her Litening pod onto the grounded helo, and thumbed the weapon release, and a Maverick blasted off of the rail. quickly, she slid it across and changed weapons; four high-explosive rockets from the APKWS pods went into the Puma, and the Hind drifted into her sights as she nudged the rudder with a tap of her toes. The closing speed was too fast to try a missile or rocket; but-
She squeezed the trigger in the brief instant the gunsight drifted across the mean, almost insectoid-looking hulking shape of the Hind in its' distinctive green-and-sand camouflage. The familiar drumming thrum of the GAU-8 reverberated the cockpit and through her seat, and the nose of her jet was obscured for the briefest of moments by gunsmoke, even with the briefest stroke of the trigger -
and then she was past, standing the plane up on it's right wing in a sharp bank, coming around to check her targets and see what she'd hit, even as tracers from small-arms fire whipped past the cockpit, and stirred the air.

One thing was for certain, the Libyans were now well-aware that Cobalt squadron were there, and gunning for them. Across Linosa and Lampedusa, the skies were criss-crossed with searching eyes, and alert sirens sounded, as frantic radio messages garbled back-and-forth, calling men and women to action. The Mirage F-1 fighters on patrol immediately swung in to try and engage the aircraft of Second Flight, and the alert MiG-23's started to roll down the strip for takeoff at the airport, the other pair starting engines as their pilots climbed aboard in a frantic hurry to taxi for their own takeoff.
The HAWK batteries, blinded by the loss of their radar, were rendered effectively useless. But the ZSU-23 mobile anti-aircraft guns came to life, searching the skies with their own short-range radar, and the remaining ships doing the same.
Across Limosa, the helicopter units frantically hurried to start engines and get into the air, while the patrolling trucks and their crews scanned the skies for the intruders, desperate to try and swat them from the skies - before they were destroyed themselves.

@Smike, @Finetales, @AvaP, @Kensai, @Damo021, @Letter Bee

Mykhailo Martinez

The enemy was caught with their pants down; none of their aircraft rose to meet them, thus Mykhailo's dreams of Ace-hood today were dashed. Oh, well.

He cleared his mind; this just meant easy prey.

Flak and missiles were spat at him, but Mykhailo flew as one freed from worry and fear, dancing past the amateurish spray of wasted ordnance. His Plane's rotary gun strafed back at one of the trucks, hopefully perforating the technical and rendering it nonviable as an Anti-Air platform. The game was on; he was a cat playing with its food, whittling down the mice and causing them to die a death of a thousand cuts as he darted toward one of their crude fixed batteries, and brought it down with a rocket from one of his rocket pods, barely dodging the riposte of two other trucks, which he turned around to strafe once more.

One was downed, the other fled along with its men, but Linosa's defenses continued to defy Mykhailo; this time, they sent missiles and rockets, forcing him to fly away to try and shake them off. Guess it was time to let the others have their turn.

Two trucks and one fixed position down, Mykhailo knew he should do more. Circling back towards the enemy ships, he strafed one of the boats and hit the stern; hopefully, it blasted a hole in the engines, too.

Disappointing. Was treachery all the foe had to offer? Were they betting all on that? Tch!

@Damo021@Kensai@Smike@Rhona W@Finetales@AvaP

The clouds rushed passed as an uneasy calm came over the cockpit of the aircraft. It was always an odd feeling, being thousands of feet over hostile ground, but all the while completely invisible to the enemies below. With a hum of a tune, Reagan flipped on the targeting pod and began to scan the ground below for the targes. Didn’t take long, as the infrared sensor pierced the clouds and swept the ground for heat signatures. A cluster emerged on her display, a slight blur but otherwise clear as day. The Hawk missile sites sat idle, unaware of the threats overhead. Such as the nature of stealth aircraft. She lased it, sent the GPS data to her bombs, and moved on to the next. Lased, targeted, next.

Within a few minutes, the enemy SAM sites had all been painted. With targeting out of the way, she gently manuvered the F117N into an attack run. The internal bomb bay opened and SGBUs flew free, small winglets extending and gliding towards their targets.

For the enemy on the ground, there would have been a small blip, depending on their settings, that would appear for disappearing just as. An anomaly, a glitch, something to safetly ignore as death hurdled towards them with silent, cold, mechanical grace.

Reagan gave a cheer of joy as she watched her bombs land on target. Bright white flashes appeared in her targeting pod as one after another, the SAM sites disappeared in a brilliant explosion. Finally, the radar site itself was hit, removing the last of her designated targets

“Stingray here, priority gound targets destroyed! Moving on to secondary targets with remaining payload. ECM active as well to make sure the skies stay clear. Happy hunting everyone!” Regan said with a smile. The ambush had worked, the skies were clear, and it was time to stack up some more ground targets for a fatter paycheck. Quickly, her targets revealed themselves to her. ZSU gun positions tore off their camoflauge and began erratically firing up into the air at the incoming aircraft. Quickly, she began to mark one after the other, totaling to four. Again, the bay opened, and quickly four more GBU-39s flew free and glided towards their targets.

One after another, bombs splashed and AAA positions went quiet again. Quickly scanning through the pod again as she banked the aircraft around, she spotted a prime opportunity. An attack helicopter, which seemed to have been refueling at the moment of attack, began to turn its blades and fire up its engines as the ground crew scattered away. With a grin, she lined up the reticle, marked it, uploaded the coordinates, then deployed the bomb.

“Come on, come on, come on…!” Reagan grumbled to herself as she watched the helicopter begin to lift off. Soon the helicopter was lifting off and she began to swore, thinking she had missed her window of oppertunity. That’s when the bomb slammed through the cockpit, out the bottom of the helicopter, and exploded on the landing pad. Reagan stared in disbelief for a brief moment, for quickly hurrying to ensure that particular strike clip was saved.

Yuna waited patiently as the first stages of their operation came to life. Jefe's missile call meant the rest of the squadrons was moments away from being unleashed against the enemy. Like clockwork, the radar kill call came next, followed by Heartbreak saying the magic words.

"Heartbreak; weapons released. All units, engage at will, over!"

The radio squawk Yuna had been patiently waiting for finally arrived, and she spared no time. Her left hand had been ready at the throttle, eager to slam it forward. As soon as Yuna heard Heartbreak's callout, her left hand pinned the throttle forward while she called out "Calico, engaging!" in response. Her primary targets were the enemy fighters on the ground, and while a dogfight would be fun, she didn't want to give any of them a chance to even get off the ground.

As Scott's flight began to rain hell on Limosa, Yuna was about to do the same to Lampedusa. They had 8 fighters including 4 Mirages, and she hoped she could take out the more capable fighters first. As her Su-33 approached Lampedusa, Yuna plunged her Flanker down to a few hundred feet above the water. Even though Jefe had taken out their eyes, those Shilkas could still cause plenty of problems. The Lampedusa airport sat on the southeast edge of the island, and Yuna had moved south early so that she was approaching at the runway heading. If she had wanted to land, she'd be right on the money...assuming she was going a few hundred knots slower.

As she closed in on the airport, the HUD on Yuna's Su-33 lit up with targets. Among those was a Mirage already entering the west end of the runway to take off. To their credit, they had responded quicker than she expected. "Not on my watch," Yuna muttered as she selected her R73E missiles. She got a solid lock just as the Mirage began its takeoff roll, heading straight for her. Its pilot would see everything. With a squeeze of the trigger and a call of "Fox Two!", Yuna let an R73E fly, and it headed straight for the rolling Mirage. In moments the missile connected with its target, and a fiery explosion erupted on the runway.

Before she needed to peel off, Yuna had time to get one more shot off, but not a lot of it. She snapped her attention to another Mirage getting ready to taxi, swiftly targeted it, and got a solid lock in moments. She let out another "Fox Two!" as the second R73E left its pylon. She yanked the stick hard left to peel off, not seeing the results of her second strike. But, it would be easy enough to survey the results on the next run, and someone else from her flight had to have seen it. She began to setup another run, this time moving wide past the airport to attack from the opposite end of the runway.

Ximena Huang

The first part of her job was done. SEAD, Suppression of Enemy Air Defenses, a polite euphemism for blasting whatever on the ground could scratch her paint to hell and back. Those HAWKs were suppressed indeed, which meant it was time to deal with everything else.

Screaming past the island on a bombing run meant that Ximena had to waste precious seconds throwing her bird back into the fight, the sound of combat around her revealing her flight's gleeful abuse of the window of opportunity she had bought them. Chán zuǐ māo, they were, greedy-mouthed cats gobbling up the easy prey before their poor provider could get a bite in!

Lucky her then that the Mirages were "quick off the mark', as the Americans said. Light craft with powerful engines flown by pilots emboldened by their numbers, by the time Ximena had turned around and leveled out they were already being knocked off by Calico. One of the French planes had only just whirled about, wings still diagonal to the ground as it fought to reach a fighting stance. La Catrina spotted the danger instantly; the Beautiful Corpse informed her rider politely via the instrument panel that a foe was seeking missile lock.

Jefe already had her gun in hand.

"Fox Two, ladies." she chirped, tapping the fire command with all the easy casualness of someone setting a thermostat. The missile fired without a lock, guided only by her helmet-mounted targeting system. A slow, slight turn of her head guided the shot square into the Mirage's wing, tearing it apart and sending the thing plummeting down to earth.

Easy kill, unsporting really. Onto the next one.

One of the MiG-23s was leveled out and circling to get inside her turn radius, a wrestler seeking to drag her down. The bort number emblazoned across it was 27, and it had been painted a jaunty Flanker blue as opposed to the usual Flogger gray-green. She had a name and personality for it now, which meant she had a playmate. Ximena grinned brutally as she veered right, forcing her new friend to follow suit lest they collide. Slamming the stick to the side sent her rattling around the cockpit violently, her wing almost shearing off against the MiG's tail as she dropped behind it. It was a stupid maneuver and pointlessly aggressive, Jefe howling like a sick dog as she flicked comms to an open channel.

"27! No te vayas a correr, sacatón, stay there so I can fucking gut you!"

"Ya khara! You'll kill us both!"

She was dropping behind him to set up a shot with her main gun and he must have known it, desperately trying to shake her loose as she nearly rammed her nose through his thruster. It was too close for her to fire without immediately colliding with the wreckage and too close for him to break away without being left wide open. He couldn't dart off without her gunning him down and she couldn't shoot without running the risk of suicide. They remained trapped in that exhilarating hell for long, gorgeous moments, an eternal chase where a millisecond of mistake would spell death for one or both of them. Their comms were open for anyone to listen in, his cursing in Arabic and her shrill, frantic laughter getting more and more strained as he led her into a tight rise, g-forces climbing as they made full use of their ASIs.

And then Number 27, her graceful partner in that thrilling dance, lost his nerve. He tried to rip into a wingover but screwed the maneuver, failing to turn the rudder before it stalled out. His engine turned cold as he dropped like a rock, plummeting past Ximena as she deftly jumped into a flat turn. She was chasing him straight down, watching as his wings extended in a futile attempt to catch drag.

He could have recovered, had she not been there.

No, no, no-"

"Yes!"

Her gun spat out its last few bullets and 27 was gone, nothing more than charred chunks of man in a flaming cockpit.

Fuka Nakano

What was Jefe's problem?

It was a stupid question-Fuka knew very well what was wrong with her. She was a capital F Fighter Pilot, a maverick who joined in search of a fat paycheck and adrenaline and found both in knife-fighting with bandits. She had equal parts ego and death wish, as well as an ability to mentally convert people into simple targets. None of those were traits Peacenik inherently minded (in fact, she personally embodied most of them), but Jefe, like the Wunderkind she had teased before their little shootout the day before, lacked the grace or sanity to keep it all buttoned up. Mykhalio swooning over the concept of acehood, Ximena screeching like a banshee as she played with her food, it was all very gauche.

Fuka liked to fight, that's why she had spent her adult life shooting at strangers. But she also liked doing her job and being a professional, not tearing her shirt off to go play Braveheart.

She took a Flogger as well, but her method was much cleaner.

"Fox Two."

It had only just gotten off the ground before being gutted by an AMRAAM, Peacenik snorting derisively as she pulled around for an assent.

"Cobalt 3 here. That ship's a problem." she noted, riding high above the clouds of flak it was throwing up. "If it keeps spraying like that it'll get lucky eventually. I'm going to shut it up. Cobalt 8, ride my back and make sure no one creeps up on me."

Peacenik plunged into a dive, Vulcan spinning up as she did so. Without ground-attack weapons she was of limited use but tank-landing ships weren't the most armored thing in the world. A line of cannon fire would do something nasty to it, probbably.

Sure enough she could see effect on target, jagged tears of steel ripping off as she tore through the superstructure. An explosion punched a hole in the top deck, fuel or ammunition or both cooking off and giving the crew more pressing problems than reloading.