The Cobalt Haze squadron had caught their targets flat-footed, and torn their throat out. Already, the E-2 Hawkeye's radar picture showed clear of any hostile bandits. Two of the MiG's and three Mirages had been torn out of the skies by Jefe, Calico, and Peacenik, and the air defence radar disabled. The ship in the port was billowing smoke, and the islands air defences were all-but out of the picture, barring the ZSU's and any shoulder-fired weapons or heavy weapons emplacements pressed into desperate service. All that was left was sweeping up to secure the airbase and rout any last hangers-on.

Linosa was more active; two of the helicopter sites were down and two of the truck convoys, leaving two of each remaining. The ships were - unfortunately - doing better. The one struck by Scott was aflame and seemed to be listing heavily, and was out of the fight after the pair of JDAM's he'd unleashed had hit it dead on the waterline. But the other Corvette was still in the fight and hunting for the Cobalt Haze fighters with its' weapons. The escorting missile boat that Mykhailo had hit was sinking rapidly at the stern where his 20mm shells had chewed through it, but the remaining three small, fast and lethal boats were still on the prowl and hungry for blood, and nowhere was this more evident than with the sound of the warbling tones of the pilots' radar warning receivers advising of searching radar sweeping the skies. Small arms fire and anti-aircraft fire from the ships' autocannons began to sweep the skies, desperately fending off any attacks.

Scott wasn't about to give up and turn tail, however; not when they'd already got off to such a promising start. He guided the Harrier's nose around, dipping starboard wing and kicking in rudder, a shimmering cloud of compressed air shrugging off of the almost square-shouldered looking jets' fuselage as he came around on a new attack profile.
"Cobalt Lead to Stingray, Valkyrie and Brightspark. Good job hitting them so far, Stingray and Brightspark. Let's finish the job and send these bastards to the bottom. Brightspark; you and I get the missile boats, since you already got one. Valkyrie, give that untouched Corvette a hit; see if it gets the message. Stingray, you come around and mop up anything left floating, over!"
Scott nudged in a little more altitude, and toed his rudder over, jinking slightly as he honed in on a course that would intersect a pair of the Osa-class missile boats. His helmet-mounted display counted down the distance as he thumbed the selector for his APKWS pods, and the LITENING pod under the fuselage slewed to highlight the shape of the nearest boat as it electronically coordinated with the radar picture from the E-2 Hawkeye. As the numbers rolled down and the laser dot locked onto the centre of the boat, Scott squeezed the trigger on the AV-8B's joystick and a ripple of flashes burst forth from the cylindrical pods under the harriers' wings. The volley of anti-armour rockets smashed home in a rolling bloom of explosive power across the missile boat, and as they hit the canisters containing the large anti-ship missiles on deck, they went up spectacularly, a shockwave rippling out across the surface of the ocean and raining flaming debris across the area.
Scott hauled the Harrier over, pumping out chaff and flares to decoy any follow-on missiles. He kicked in a little bit of vectored thrust, just forcing his nose around that little more to bring the second boat square into his sights, and as it did, he switched weapon and sucked in a breath as he pulled the trigger again.
This time, there was a dull rumble through the airframe as the 25mm rotary cannon on the belly of the jet fired. The five-barreled gun was heavier with its' weight of shot than the Vulcans carried by some of the other pilots' planes, but smaller than the almost absurd GAU-8 carried by Kat's A-10. Nonetheless, it did the job and with the characteristic BRRRRRRBBBB of a weapon with a rate of fire of thousands of rounds a minute, it let off a stream of firepower that was barely a blink or a heartbeat, but still massed dozens of hotdog-sized shells that drew a line of angry fire across the boats' superstructure and sent debris and smoke flying. Wounded, the boat didn't sink immediately, or even explode, but it slowed and began to zig-zag, as its' firepower dropped off.


Even at the A-10's comparatively 'slow' speed, Linosa was not a big island. barely over a mile and a half, from the direction she'd approached from, and with the A-10 at low speed, it was under the wings and she was over water again in mere moments. Starboard wing down and nose up, she soared into a banking climb as she put on some speed to get an overview and reacquire her targets. Thankfully, with the island being small, it also made it a hell of a lot easier to find anything. There weren't many places to hide... well, anything; the island wasn't built up and there were very few 'terrain features' to hide behind; just the two not even especially tall 'mountains' in the north and south, on the islands' eastern side. Smoke was already rising from various points where her flight had struck and hit the Libyans positions on the island, where they'd scattered through the fields that patchworked the islands gently rolling terrain.
Tracer fire licked up sporadically, as nervous gunners on the anti-aircraft guns in the back of the remaining pickups lashed at the skies. On the far side of the island from her, she could see more tracers flashing up from the distant shapes of the ships, marked by their wakes on the water, and the pillars of smoke. The relayed radar picture from the E-2 AWACS showed her that the helicopters were starting to take notice, and two of the Hinds had gotten airborne, but were sticking to low level, scudding around and trying to terrain-mask.
"Well, that just won't do" she said to herself as she lined up on a northwest-southeast pass that would take her between the 'mountains'.
She uncaged the seeker heads in the AIM-9X's under the A-10's port wing. The supercooled 'eye' in the nose of the missile was slaved automatically to her helmets' visor. The warbling tone of the searching heat-seeker filled her ears and she nosed the A-10 lower once more, gently playing the rudder pedals under her booted feet to try and pinpoint the Hind attack helicopter against the terrain -
There! The predatory shape of the attack helicopter, like some kind of angry insect, hung low to the ground and twisted in the air. It side-slipped, as only a helicopter could, and the nose came up as he pulled altitude. All at once, her own radar warning receivers sounded, as the Hind opened fire in return, the air-to-air missiles under its' down-turned wingtips hunting her down. Undeterred, Kitten, pressed the lock
"You cheeky little son of a bitch! I'll show you who does the shooting around here~!"
The audio cue for the sidewinder changed to a steady buzz, and then as she pulled the trigger, a solid tone.
"Kitten, Fox Two!"



The astonishing speed with which their wingmen had been taken down had shaken and unsettled the remaining fighter pilots assigned to protect their acquired airbase, and their brothers in arms on the ground below. Three of the Mirages and two MiGs gone, with barely even a swat back at the attackers. Even their ground-control radar was gone, and those aboard the ships that had come into the AO. They had nothing but themselves and the resolve of their fellows on the ground, manning the powerful ZSU anti-aircraft guns.
Even now, their search-and-tracking radars swept the skies, hunting down the mercenaries that had swept in and obliterated the men they'd been joking and chatting with only mere minutes earlier.
Three versus four; and all their opponents were in much more capable aircraft than their own. One of them barely seemed visible on radar; a stealth jet, if things needed to be any worse.
But their anger gave them wings, and they used them to hunt. The remaining pair of Floggers doubled up as soon as they cleared the runway they were on the offensive, rolling in behind Calico's Sukhoi. The disparity in size was like wolves nipping at the heels of a bison as they jockeyed for advantage and position, the wings on the high shoulders of the single-engined jets smoothly sliding to a mid-position for the optimum mix of lift and speed as they bombarded the sky with hunting signals to lock on.
Meanwhile, the remaining Mirage burned hard and hammered the G's as the delta-winged jet fought to live, thundering low enough over the terrain of Lampedusa that windows shattered and walls vibrated, before shooting up and clawing for altitude to come up under Peacenik's F/A-18, searching for an angle and letting fly with a burst from both 30mm guns at the blacker-than-black Hornet as the lights from below barely gleamed off of its' glossy paintwork.

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

Mykhailo Martinez

"Roger!" said Mykhailo as he accelerated his F-16, 'leaping' towards the sky, seemingly vanishing into the clouds... Then all of a sudden, diving down just above one of the missile boats, dropping a GPS-guided bomb on its deck, that hopefully lit that pest in flames and sowed the fear of something on the crew of the last remaining one - Scott brought down one and he hopefully brought down another - A kill offered up to Stingray to finish off.

Now the foe will flee or die; he knew their rationale, their reasons for anger and rage. Their nations had suffered under the ex-colonial powers that made up the N/UN, and they wanted vengeance. Their values were 'traditional', and had given them meaning and belonging in the face of hardship, and they did not want to drop them in the face of new, 'decadent' values that spat at their struggle and stank of hypocrisy, according to them.

Let them hate; he was ready to let go even when they would not. If they do not yield, he will stop them from harming anyone else.

There was some part of him who wanted to go beyond that, though; some part of him that hated back, hyperfixated on how much they hated and hurt him and wanted to return the favor. But he knew this was monstrous, that it would prevent him from getting his own happiness, and also burn his connections with other people.

So he let go; he let go again and again until it took. He cut off the part that enjoyed his vengeance against these people; let the explosion of the GPS-guided bomb drive out his own hate with its noise. He will keep fighting till the end, both others and himself...

@Damo021@Smike@Rhona W@Finetales@AvaP

"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."

"Roger Peacenik, got your six," replied Calico, banking her Su-33 and throttling up to head towards Peacenik. As the Hornet plunged towards the deck, Yuna spotted the enemy Mirage closing in fast from below. "Cobalt 3, you got company, five o'clock low. Moving to int-" she was interrupted by the occasional lock-on warning beeps turning into a solid tone. "Shit!" she said as she yanked the stick hard right and punched out flares. The incoming missile barely missed its mark, and Yuna scanned the sky just long enough to see the two Floggers bearing down on her. "Two bogeys on me, standby one," she quickly rattled off to Peacenik as she sent her Su-33 into rolling scissors. Follow this, assholes, she thought to herself, leveraging her Sukhoi's far superior performance to goad an overshoot (or a crash) by the attackers.

It only took a couple rolls for the maneuver to work, with the ancient Floggers completely unable to match the Flanker's performance. In his anger, one of the Flogger pilots took the bait completely and tried to stick to the Flanker through the maneuver, but the Flogger couldn't handle it and lost altitude fast, plunging towards the water only a few hundred feet below. The other Flogger pilot wisely pulled out of the maneuver early, but in the process overshot Yuna, who was ready to pounce. As the Flogger overshot, Yuna squeezed the trigger and let fly a volley of autocannon rounds as she kept her crosshair on the Flogger's path. The rounds ripped through the Flogger, which immediately began to billow smoke from the left wing where it was hit the hardest. Yuna banked her Sukhoi hard to get behind the stricken foe, whose stabilizers had clearly taken a hit as the plane attempted in vain to do any kind of turn. With another volley from the autocannon going straight into the engine, the Flogger burst into flames as the pilot ejected.

Instantly Yuna punched the throttle and headed back towards Peacenik. She hadn't seen if the Mirage had scored any hits on Peacenik's Hornet, but both planes were still in the air. "Cobalt 3, I'm coming for your bogey, 20 seconds," she called out.

@Smike

Fuka Nakano

The happy hunting could only last so long.

She had been inclined to assume their opponents were novices with perhaps fifty hours of flight time under their belt before becoming fighter pilots, but honestly they were making a good show of it. There was only so much one could do when ambushed, dodging a missile when you didn't know it was coming an impossible ask. What mattered was the ability to keep your head when everything went to shit, and so far the pirates were doing that.

The last of the Floggers moved like a wolf pack, flitting out of Fuka's line of sight as they chased Calico. Two against one were bad odds, but the Sukoi was twenty years more advanced than its vintage rivals, so things were hopefully not as dicey as they looked. Peacenik was in no position to help-she had a bandit on her tail as well.

"Hmm."

It was a simple response to Calico's warning call, an acknowledgement of danger without promising a solution. She had seen it disappear low behind her before rocketing up in pursuit, the old-but-far-from-slow French craft gaining ground fast. The Black Bunny was slower and less agile, which meant she would struggle to break away. All she could do was yank up on the stick and throw off its aim, a maneuver that saved her from a stream of tracer fire.

"Hmm."

"Cobalt 3, I'm coming for your bogey, 20 seconds,"

Ximena Huang

"I'll be there in ten."

With her duel concluded (and what a duel it had been) Ximena had already begun to rip back into the fray. She was at a better angle than Yuna and in a faster plane, barreling towards their flight lead at hellspeed. Coming at the chase sidelong allowed her to float the crosshairs on top of the enemy, the Mirage suddenly breaking away, no doubt scared off by the beep-beep-beep of an RWR.

But Jefe wasn't going to miss out on another kill, not unless the Mirage could live up to its name and disappear into thin air.

"Fox-2!"

AMRAAM away, an afterburner streak against the beautiful blue sky, then an explosion and wreckage raining on the island below.

God she loved her job.

Freyja Svensdotter

So far everything went, amazingly better than she expected. They literally caught the enemy with their pants down. A lot of assets were taken care of but also, many remained and so Cobalt kept up the pressure. Soon next set of orders came through, the remaining Corvette was her priority target, a fun challenge indeed. A small manoeuvrable craft but with enough bite to hit back. “Roger Cobalt lead, moving to engage.”

Moving off towards the enemy corvette, Freyja took a moment to observe the craft, seeing if they were engaging in rescue operations or not. The alarm sounding of for attempted lock on to her Gripe was enough sign that the ship was still being an active combatant. Throttling up a little, she moved into an attack posture and went for a lock on the corvette herself. A game of cat and mouse had begun.

After a few tense moments of awaiting the confirmation of a lock, Freyja immediately fired away. “Valkyrie, Rifle 1” letting a AGM-65 loose at her target. In seconds the corvette reacted in defensive fire to try and stop the missile hitting the target. Just as it looked like it would strike, the missile was shot down as she flew by, she thought about her next attack run, that thought was stopped when her alarms sounded of that the enemy locked on her and a missile was inbound to her. Freyja immediately began a series of evasive manoeuvres to shake the missile, no joy, deploying flares on her next move the missile hit the flares, feeling the vibration to the explosion she knew that was closer than she would of liked.

Throttling up again, Freyja swung her jet around and went low, hitting the deck so to speak, this time coming at a diagonal position to the corvette, defensive fire went off but no as much as this time she was using the other listing corvette as a bit of cover, not fully so she could still get a lock but made it more difficult for the ship to respond. At least that was her thought pattern on it. Locking on once more she fired again. “Valkyrie, Rifle 2” this time despite the effort of the corvette this missile struck the side of the target, she moved on to immediately try and survey the damage and see what the ship would next.


Amelia Schön

One the other island, things were going just as well for the team, many assets or vital support elements were getting taken care off or had their hands full with her wing mates. For sparrow this freed her up to look for other ground targets still operating. “Oh hello, what do we have here?” She said to no one in particular. Speaking of ground targets, she had spotted the Skilkas from the briefing, the one she had in her sights was not moving and was looking to the skies, of course everything so far for it was out of range. What a shame, there is nothing more satisfying than sniping something from a distance in a jet. And as such she locked up the one.

Once locked on, it was just as simply pressing the trigger and snuffing out the target without it even knowing what hit it, probably what they deserve for using such a weapon to pacify civilians. “Sparrow, Paveway 1” the bomb was lunched on its way to the target, Amelia using the targeting pod to ensure laser lock on the unsuspecting Shilka. Within moment, as massive explosion erupted where the anti-air once sat.

Soon enough she repositions her Typhoon, setting up for the next kill, it almost felt unfair in a way, being able to take them out from so far away, but it was the mission and they were the targets, with these out of the way, it was make things easier for others. The second one was sitting there just like the first one, despite the distance apart, she wondered if they knew of the first one’s demise, surely they would have, she couldn’t tell if they abandoned it or not, didn’t matter it was going. “Sparrow Paveway 2” Again the bomb was away being laser guided and within seconds a second massive explosion.

The third one took longer to find than expected, no doubt they knew they were being picked off and as such was probably in hiding, she didn’t blame them in all honesty. Eventually she spotted it, on the move, looked like it was trying to head to a civilian populated area, not on Sparrows watch, she immediately moved into position, from her range she’ll be able to take it out quickly and safely as possible. She switched from the paveways to the brimstone missiles, and locked up the target. “Sparrow, Rifle 1.” There were a few tense moments as she awaited the strike to be confirmed, soon enough there was an explosion, the moving shilka was stopped dead in its tracks. As she flew over surveying the damage before pulling up and away to avoid any retaliatory small arms fire. “Hehe, suckers.” She mused to herself before she spoke up on the radio. “Cobalt 10 to squad lead, all shilka’s eliminated, over.”

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

Scott's attacks had hit hard. One of the boats was completely destroyed, nothing left but debris and sinking wreckage. The other boat he'd hit with his gun was smoking and had not shown any interest in pressing the attack. Myk's attack on the remaining one with a JDAM blasted it apart as the 500lb warhead struck squarely atop the stern. The force of the explosion slammed the boats' rear down against the incompressible water and blew out seams in the hull. Pipes and feeds ruptured and as cold water hit the hot engines, steam blasted out and added to the explosion as the missile boat blew to pieces.
"Outstanding, Brightspark! Good hits!"
Then as Valkyrie dropped in to take on the second Corvette; duelling with it as the crew fought back admirably; but her second Maverick hit home, plowing into the Corvette's superstructure and leaving it smoking and burning. The surface combatants were all-but out of the fight, with crews abandoning ship on what was left, or trying to stabilise their sinking ships.
"All ships and vessels are out of the picture. Pivot to attacking the land-based targets, over"


The Hind's air-to-air missile bore in toward the A-10, while Kat's AIM-9X sliced through the skies toward the attack helicopter. The Amazonian pilot hauled back on her stick, pulling up and right in a shuddering bank. Her radar warning receiver blared incessantly and she cursed under her breath as the G's pulled on her, pumping out flares as the jet pulled up and away.
The R-60 missile steered toward her plane, before the rooster-tail of flares caught it's attention and it exploded into the skies, giving her a narrow escape. The Hind wasn't so lucky, however; despite hugging the ground and wheeling away as fast as its' pilot could take it and pumping out flares, the hulking attack helicopter couldn't escape. The sidewinder intersected its' rotor disk as it homed in on the engine exhausts, and as the proximity fuse triggered, the explosion of shrapnel tore through the engines and rotors alike, the helicopter pancaking into the ground and breaking in two as it rolled onto its' side and burst into flames.
The rest of the helicopters were starting to react, taking to the skies and trying to flee as the Cobalt Haze jets picked them off, while tracers from the remaining pickups and their anti-aircraft guns criss-crossed the skies.

Meanwhile over the more built up of the two islands, the dogfights were already minutes old; an eternity in the timescales of aerial combat. Jefe, Calico and Peacenik had ripped the handful of aerial combatants from the sky with barely a flicker of difficulty, and then Sparrow's Typhoon had ravaged the ZSU's on the ground, leaving the island virtually defenceless. There was nothing left of any substance to hold them back or fight back against them, the Libyan transport planes on the tarmac below not even attempting to make a run for it, and no seeking radars sweeping for them high above.
"This is Skywatch to Cobalt 3; reading no bandits in your area and no hostiles. All targets are down or no factor, over" the AWACS operator reported, the displays from the powerful radar aboard the Hawkeye showing no remaining hostiles.
From Scott's position in the harrier, regrouping with the rest of his flight at a higher altitude, he listened in to the good news.
"Flight one, regroup on me and let's hit the last of these targets, and regroup on Flight Two. Cobalt 3; check for any further hostiles or targets of opportunity and hold over Lampedusa for the C-130's, over"

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

Mykhailo Martinez

"Roger that!" Mykhailo said to the comms as he pressed inward, dissatisfied at how the foe just melted away before him. He shot another missile from his F-16 to blow up another emplacement, then strafed some people setting up a man-portable missile from behind some sandbags.

Despite being new, he knew how to whittle down the foe with little danger to himself, to cause stress and fear and press upon them the futility of their cause.

They had another radar station; Mykhailo shot a rocket downward at it, then strafed the area around the remains; this was like a cat playing around with mice - Unsatisfying and also a little bit immoral. He can already think from the enemy's point of view that these 'Westerners' were pitiless, honorless, and simultaneously cowards and remorseless killers.

Completely forgetting that they struck first, of course.

Mykhailo kept up this cycle, of strafing, of launching rockets at fixed emplacements, of herding those who fled to their tunnels and foxholes in the middle of the island, where he would obey his orders and not pursue. Instead, he'd try and find anything that resembled an arsenal... and drop his last GPS-guided glide bomb.

He was not going to earn Ace-hood today. But he was going to eliminate the foes.

@Damo021@Smike@Rhona W@Finetales@AvaP

Fuka Nakano

"Thanks Calico, Jefe."

That one had been dicey. Fuka had to purposefully unclench her jaw and loosen her shoulders, her knuckles white under the gloves of her flight suit from clenching the stick so hard. Getting a bandit on your tail was up there in the list of really bad scenarios, and had she been a touch unluckier she likely would have been forced to bail. But that's what the team was for-they watched her back and she watched theirs.

She could shit her pants later, right now she had to focus on the job at hand.

"I copy, Cobalt One. Flight 2 is keeping an eye out. I'm getting no visuals or any radar pings thus far."

Ximena Huang

Once again sitting pretty high up in the cloud cover, Ximena preened like a falcon clutching a kill in its talons. She couldn't scientifically prove that she was the best pilot in Cobalt but it was certainly a strong hypothesis. She had both skill and experience as well as a natural tendency for high-octane gunslinging, all of which served her well in combat roles. Combine that with her souped-up superplane and there were few opponents she'd be unsure of taking on.

"Sorry about sniping it from under you, Cobalt 8. I'll buy you another drink to make up for it!"

@Rhona W @Finetales

Stingray rode the bright thermals high above Linosa, sunlight flashing off the Seahawk’s angled panels. Below her, the island’s bunkers and hardened positions still bristled with activity, stubborn even after the initial bombardment. “Alright, mop up time...” she muttered with an easy smile as she selected a GBU-39, the targeting reticle locking onto a concrete nest dug into the hillside. With a relaxed flick of her wrist, she released the bomb, watching it glide downward through the crisp daylight on her display. “Aaaaaand... splash,” she said, voice light as the bunker erupted in a neat orange blossom beneath her.

Heartbreak came in over the comms as the battle continued to evolve. "All ships and vessels are out of the picture. Pivot to attacking the land-based targets, over."

Ayvee answered with a warm calm, having finally relaxed into her element. “Stingray here. Copy, Lead, and way ahead of you. Hitting hardpoints right now. All triple A seems silent, and anything with any sense is staying grounded.” She banked toward the main staging area, its barracks still intact and bustling with movement. Cueing another SDB, she guided it manually as the targeting computer zoomed in on a bright window reflecting the midday sun. She nudged the crosshair with small, unhurried corrections. “Come oon… aaand… perfect.” The feed showed the bomb slipping straight through the frame, followed by a clean, surgical flash. Ayvee let out a sigh. “I need to join the LPGA...”

She released another pair of GBU-39s, the bombs glinting once in the sun before gliding silently into two coastal bunkers. Twin shockwaves rippled outward, dust plumes rising in slow-motion curls.

Freyja Svensdotter

Things appeared to be going well, the naval assets were dealt with, ground units also seem to be subdued, well mostly, helicopter reacting to them were trying to take off and subsequently dealt with. It appeared only thing left was to regroup with her squadron. It was then when she noticed there was still some targets left. And as targets of opportunity, she was going to take it, despite being told to regroup up on flight lead.

“Cobalt 6 to flight lead, seeing a pair of targets of opportunity, a pair of helos still on deck, moving to engage and will then regroup, over.” To be honest she almost missed them with everything else around burning, but it could be easy for them to suddenly be active, but at this point they probably had already given up. Maybe she should’ve waiting for confirmation, however; she had already altered course to line up her targets, the tracer long falling silent.

Taking her time, she locked onto the helos, range on her side anyway. “Ripple, fox one” she called out, signify a launch of multiple missiles in quick succession, ensuring lock remains until it was confirmed the helicopter were taken out. After a moment she pulled back on her stick and began flying back towards her squadron to fall back in formation.


Amelia Schön

On Amelia’s side of things, the radar fell silent on enemy targets, the team was ruthless in its execution and it did feel a bit overkill on islands, but hey, they started it, so it was only fair this group of misfits finished. She felt her squad mates did a bit more of the heavier lifting, but team work makes the dream work right? She began flying back towards her team, gaining altitude to meet them, she allowed herself to relax for a moment and take in the night sky, for all the death and destruction they just unleashed, the night sky looked so peaceful and beautiful. Enough of that for now, she could take in the night sky more once they headed back, for now she regrouped up. “Cobalt 10, forming up with group two, over.”

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

One by one, the rest of Scott's flight checked in, reporting their hits. In synch with their words, the volume of fire from the island dropped away, the streams of tracers stabbing up through the night skies falling silent.
As Scott's Harrier circled the island, one wing dipped, he could see the laser-like lines of fire reaching out toward them had died out and replaced with the glowing orange points of fires where their attacks had been driven home. Likewise, on the surface of the sea, the hulk of the corvette burned fiercely, sinking slowly and a stream of smoke stretching up into the night skies. The smoke choked out the moonlight, scattering reflections on the waves. The rest of First Flight slid into position on his wings, their missions completed.
"Cobalt One to Flight One; outstanding work. Move to holding position to meet up with Flight Two and hold above Lampedusa, over. Skywatch, this is Cobalt Leader; all targets destroyed, or no factor. Moving to rendezvous with Flight Two. Are we ready for phase two, over?"

Aboard the E-2D Hawkeye miles distant from the combat zone, radar operators checked and rechecked the positions of everything within the range of the powerful AN/APY-9 radar in the steadily rotating disc above the fuselage. Confirming the positions and location of the other aircraft that were part of the operation, the operators came back to Scott on the common channel for the squadron.
"Skywatch to Cobalt Squadron, confirmed. No hostiles in your area, phase two commencing now. Cobalt Hotel element, you have a go, over"

The squadron's Eurocopter Panther sped in, rotors thundering as the air slapped beneath them. Brigitte was at the controls and flying, night-vision goggles down over her face. The dimmed cockpit instruments cast an eerie glow over her fine features, while in the seat beside her Miles manned the weapon systems. The helicopter had been standing ready, and - along with the three AW-139M Helicopters from the Maltese forces - had lifted off on a timed schedule, as soon as that counter had reached a certain time. Crossing the distance from Malta to Lampedusa and holding in a pattern until the word was given, or until their fuel had run too low. Now the go had been given, they swept in. The more heavily armed Panther zoomed in, crossing the perimeter of the airport in moments and circling, looking for any lingering resistance. Behind it, the trio of Maltese Armed Forces AW-159 helicopters settled into a hover. Ropes unfurled from their sides, and the armed troops rappelled down, quickly moving out and raising their weapons to cover all the approaches. Small arms fire licked out at them, but punishing fire from the Panther lashed back from the miniguns attached to pylons on either side of the fuselage, and from the helicopters dropping the troops in. They spread out quickly, and the lackluster resistance quickly dropped away as the defenders surrendered or were taken down.
"Skywatch, this is Cobalt Hotel; the airport is secure. Ready for Phase Three, over"
"Cobalt Hotel, Skywatch, Confirmed. Cobalt Heavy, move in, over"
Holding in an orbiting pattern, the trio of C-130 Hercules transports moved in, staggered in a line to space their landings. Snowman and Lily were at the front in the Cobalt Squadron herc, and the approach was as smooth as butter as he guided the big four-engine prop-plane into a landing, reversing thrust as soon as the wheels touched down, and slowing enough to turn off the runway by the first taxiway. The second and third followed perfectly, and the helicopters had already settled down on the apron, personnel moving in and taking control of the air traffic control tower. A few moments later, the light across the airport came on and outlined the runway and all the other taxiways and areas perfectly.
"Cobalt Lead, this is Lampedusa Control; we're open for business. Feel free to make your way down, over"
"Roger, Lampedusa Control. Get the crews ready to change the oil, wipe the windshield, and rotate the tyres. We're coming in, over. Cobalt Squadron, follow me in to land, by the numbers, and rendezvous on the apron for a briefing. See you on the ground, over"

The Harrier's gear came down as Scott slid the jet onto a steady approach to the runway, talking back and forth to the control tower as the two-tone grey jet came down. He set the engine nozzles for a short landing, partially pivoting them and the flaps coming down. The touchdown was easy, and the rollout short as the STOVL jets unique flight system showed its' stuff. He taxied to the apron, landing lights flashing as he slid the canopy back, and shut down the engine, Wolf's detachment of maintenance personnel standing by to refuel the plane and load armaments.
Kat's A-10 touched down in the pattern, the wide-winged jet bouncing lightly on its' main wheels, before the nose came down gently and she slowed steadily, before turning off as well.
Scott climbed down as soon as he was shut down, stretching and accepting a bottle of water from one of the maintenance techs, drinking half of it in a few heavy gulps, and drenching his face in the rest, unzipping his survival vest and flight suit as he waited for the others to join him.

Mykhailo Martinez

Mykhailo landed his plane on Lampedusa Airport's runway; it was time for the next part of the mission, assuming that the Libyans and their proxies didn't have a second wave of troops ready to attack. Then he got off his plane to meet Captain Scott and the others, trying not to show that his mood was anything but calm.

Damn the enemy for being this weak and incompetent. They were too easy to destroy, such that it didn't feel like revenge, just one-sided slaughter. He hated to admit it, but apparently, a massacre was less pleasurable than it had been in his head. Was this a sign he was still a decent person?

Or had prejudice and hatred - the desire to blame someone for the scars he still held over Artemio's death - worn down his goodness? He certainly did not feel compassionate now.

So he waited for everyone else to land, and as they got down to prepare for their commanding officer's briefing, Mykhailo's eyes lit up as he realized that this wasn't over yet; there was a second stage where he could finally shoot down two more planes and achieve the Ace-hood he had dreamt about. He craved it; he craved the action such that it was ruining his focus on keeping his fraying ties with the rest of the Squadron.

Mykhailo was not blind; he was being annoying, and not just to Fuka. So he decided to greet the new member, Yuna Xu, instead.

Waving hi, the young man asked, "So, it seemed you and the others had a dogfight or two? How did that go? Did the enemy fight well?"

Then he remembered that he should not be barraging Yuna with questions, and so quieted down.

@Damo021@Smike@Rhona W@Finetales@AvaP

Fuka Nakano

Well, she had touched down successfully. Another sortie survived, one day closer to retirement. As much as she enjoyed it, Fuka knew she couldn't fly forever. She would age out or get injured, crash one too many times or simply fail some test the pill-pushers forced her to take. She already refused to go to sick call; it was a trick she picked up in the Rangers and it had served her well. But sooner or later she was going to be slapped with a fat 4F on the basis of age if nothing else. Or, she could die twenty thousand feet in the air and be scattered across the horizon.

Neither option suited Fuka, both were inevitable on a long enough time scale. All she could do until then was go into every fight swinging with her all.

The Black Bunny touched down behind Scott's Harrier and was swarmed by techs almost before the engines were off. Fuka slid out of the cockpit with purpose, rejecting water in favor of the hard caramel stashed in her pocket. Naturally, she stood alongside the ranking officer in preparation for his briefing, scuffing the tarmac with the toe of her foot.

Ximena Huang

Ximena sat for a moment in the cockpit, canopy slung open so she could feel the cool night breeze. It soothed her rattled nerves, settled her from Absolutely Wired to Merely Buzzed. Combat was better than drugs, drink, sex, any and all vices people turned to when they needed to feel invincible, they were pale imitations of the high that came from betting one's life against another. She had thrown herself into the fray with bared fangs and a beating heart, tossed down an open challenge and found all comers lacking.

Ximena wasn't blasphemous enough to say that she was like God, oh no. She was more like the Destroyer sent to punish Egypt, or the sulfur and fire that rained upon Sodom. Coming down as she had on the HAWKs had been gratifying, the ability to wave her hand and make structures vanish in the blink of an eye had very much gone to her head. She was scared during dogfights, obviously, downright terrified even. But Jefe was always terrified, always watching her back. It was only when she got sent out on a sortie that she got to inflict some of that paranoia on others, to master her cowardice by sending her foes scattering.

To think that she had thought spy work to be the height of excitement!

"Oh my god, you're bleeding!"

The voice belonged to a reedy little tech barely out of college, the runt having taken it upon himself to do an instrument check with her still in the cockpit. Ximena looked at him with vague disdain, confused by his blathering until a gust chilled the wetness pooling on her cheeks

Right.

"So it seems." she acknowledged, gently swatting away the rag he offered fumbingly. "But no matter."

"We need a medic! MED-"

"Shhh."

The words died in his throat as she pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him with the same patronizing kindness with which one would treat a nervous puppy.

"No need for all that."

She grinned as she slid off a glove, carefully scooping up the leaking crimson with the same finger that had shut the tech up moments ago. Lazily, languidly, practically lasciviously, she licked it clean, very much enjoying the mixed disgust and confusion in his expression as he decided to get back to work. Ximena chuckled as she finally hoisted herself to the ground, setting off to join the briefing.

"Good man."

As Yuna sped her Sukhoi towards Fuka and the assailing Mirage, she heard Ximena's call and then saw the Sea Raptor make short work of the distance, making the intercept before Yuna could get a lock. Yuna yanked the stick back and rolled over as she gained altitude quickly, positioning herself to tag in if the Ximena's initial pass didn't take care of the Mirage. Yuna didn't expect that to be much of a possibility though, and as she looked down from her nearly-upside-down vantage point from above, she witnessed her prediction come true as Jefe's AMRAAM deleted the Mirage.

It was a beautiful sight. God damn, I'm glad I picked this squadron, she thought.

"Sorry about sniping it from under you, Cobalt 8. I'll buy you another drink to make up for it!"

"Make it two," Yuna replied jokingly.

As both flights mopped up the remaining targets, the comms gradually got quieter until Flight One caught up to Flight Two and the job was done. The call came to begin phase two, followed by the call from Heartbreak to land at Lampedusa. Yuna's brain came down from combat mode as she slid into a holding pattern and waited her turn to land. When it was time, she guided her Su-33 smoothly down, touching down with only the tiniest tire squeak just past the numbers. To her, every landing was a competition, and she hoped her squadmates and ground crew had seen that greaser of a landing.

A short taxi later and she was climbing out of her plane, attended to by the maintenance techs on hand. She unzipped her vest and suit as she walked towards the handful of others who had landed before her, and was soon standing with the group. She stood next to the others facing the runway, so she could watch (and judge) the remaining landings. As she did, she was greeted by Brightspark, someone she had yet to interact with in the squadron.

"So, it seemed you and the others had a dogfight or two? How did that go? Did the enemy fight well?"

Yuna shrugged. "Eh, they were okay," she said matter-of-factly. "Definitely didn't seem very well prepared, but under the circumstances they did alright. I've fought a lot worse." She quickly replayed the day's action in her head. Two Mirages on the ground and two Floggers in the air. Not a bad tally for the day, even though she only counted the Flogger kills. "Two of 'em came after me at once towards the end, which was fun," she recounted. "You could tell they were pissed off at me after I deleted a couple Mirages on the ground, which, fair," she admitted.

She turned the conversation back over to Brightspark. "What about you, how was life over Linosa?"

@Smike @Letter Bee

Once the others were all gathered around, Scott launched into an explanation. His lips split into a hungry, eager, cocky grin that looked entirely too at home on his wolfishly rugged features and the energy and excitement sparkling in his eyes only added to it as he began to speak animatedly.

"All right everyone; I'm gonna start by saying: You kicked ten kinds of shit out of the Libyans out there. You all did utterly amazing, and I'm impressed and thrilled with all of you. Even more than I already was, and that was a shit-ton to begin with. Name-takers and heartbreakers one and all. But we're not done making our legends yet tonight". Scott paused and pulled his sleeve up just enough to check the Breitling watch on his right wrist, and nodded in satisfaction.
"In all their infinite wisdom, the pointy-heads at the N/UN have finally decided that our current corner of the world is worthy of their lordly interests, and as such, have pulled their collective fingers out of their buttholes and decided to do something about it, lest we show them up by single-handedly incapacitating the Libyan's ability to wage war. About now, two flights of B-1 Lancers will be taking off from the UK on a course that'll take them within range to launch cruise missiles at key targets across the country. The USS Elysium and it's carrier battle group should also be steaming through the Straits of Gibraltar, along with a combined Expeditionary Group to follow up that attack with a series of co-ordinated missile and air attacks, preceding a landing operation. But we're the first of first strikes. Since we're already in the area, we've been chosen to go in, and strike the first blow".
He drew a large tablet computer out of sleeve that he'd picked up earlier, and lay it on the hood of the service vehicle they'd crowded around. Tapping the screen after powering it on, it showed the capital of Tripoli, with a particular emphasis on Tripoli's international airport and Mitiga International airport.
"Both of the international airports close to Tripoli are also used by the Libyan Air Force, and have some of the longest runways and best facilities in the country, as well as two of the northernmost Early Warning and Air Traffic Control radars and facilities. If we knock them out prior to the attacks, it'll put the Libyan Air Force into chaos, and severely hamper their ability to detect the incoming missiles and aircraft, as well as coordinate any follow on attacks. Likewise, if we can damage the facilities themselves, it'll also force any air cover for the capital to come from further afield. So, we're going to go in there, and do as much damage as we can. We'll be expecting air cover, and this will be their most capable aircraft, as they're protecting the capital. Intel tells us that the best aircraft they have at hand are MiG-29s. Later ones, so they're respectable, dangerous and capable aircraft. Expect to also encounter Mirage F1's, and a threat from ground-based SAM and Triple-A systems, similar to what we've already encountered; HAWKs and ZSU's, as well as former Soviet systems; fixed and mobile. Take them out if you have the opportunity and the ordnance, but our targets are the runways, facilities, and the radar installations. We'll approach from the north west at low altitude and cross the coast to the west of Tripoli International, pop up to strike the airport and cause a ruckus. That ought to lure attention to that area, while we exfil to the south, then head to the north-east and circle up to hit Mitiga on our return leg out to sea, and back to Malta. We won't be splitting the squadron this time - all aircraft will be flying to attack both targets, but in two flights."
He paused to check to see if they were all paying attention and following him so far, glancing between the eyes of his men and women and gauging their reactions before he continued.
"Flight one - you'll be with me. Stingray, Valkyrie, Kitten and Jefe; you're on my wings. We're going in after the primary ground targets. Peacenik; you're leading flight two and with you are Brightspark, Calico and Sparrow. Your primary targets are the hostile aircraft and air defences. Appropriate ordnance is being uploaded to your jets now, and they're being refuelled. We'll have the C-130 here and ready to take off if anyone needs a tanker on the way back to Malta, and the helo crew will be here for CSAR if anyone goes down too, not to mention; we have allies in close proximity as well. Any questions?"

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

Mykhailo Martinez

Mykhailo answered Yuna, "It was... boring. Like, still genuinely dangerous, but the AA and SAM folk cannot aim to hit the broad side of a barn."

Then he smiled and said, "So, you had a good time, at the very least?"

Don't add that you want to bring down two more planes to get Ace-hood. That makes you look like a glory hound. But still, you want to prove your skills, don't you? The Pilot said to himself.

Then Scott told them the next phase, a direct raid on Libya - The Enemy - and its Air Force.

Mykhailo had to ask, though, "Are there any civilians using the International Airports? I do not want to accidentally attack civilian transports for obvious reasons, and I don't think any of us want to either."

After that, Mykhailo lifted his head up, letting his blue eyes glint with reflected light that also briefly lit up his platinum blond hair, before saying, "The enemy aircraft, however... They're as good as brought down; hopefully their pilots have parachutes."

Tch. That was gauche.

"I mean," Mykhailo clarified, "I hope that I spare as many lives as possible while proving effective..."

The young man wanted to be an ace. This was his opportunity. If he cleared his mind and focused on defeating the enemy, got his head out of the metaphorical clouds and into the real ones, if he can summon the skill he had shown in earlier missions... Then he can win.

He can avenge Sokolov.

@Damo021@Smike@Rhona W@Finetales@AvaP

Fuka Nakano

Fuka listened impassively as the team leader described the next phase of operations, neither shrinking from her duty nor gleefully awaiting it like Heartbreak seemed to be. She was pleasantly suprised to see the N/UN get off its collective ass even if she wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the operation. But that was war, right? They hadn't hired her for political insight and strategic thinking nor for her deep, bleeding-heart need to avenge the people of Malta. All of that was the domain of her sisters and their rah-rah, increase the budget and re-elect us lifestyle. Fuka flew planes to the places she was told to and dropped bombs on the people she was pointed towards, she was good at doing so, and she liked the work.

Still, her close calls were weighing on her. Two hairy chases in two sorties, and she was paired with a team that she still didn't completely know or trust-not out of any personal dislike, just a lack of time. In the Navy, she had been given time to adjust to her cohort, fly a few combat drills before going out to hit the narco-socialists in Venezuela and the Chinese puppets buzzing around Japan.

Here it was go-go-go, all the time. No better way to learn than a trial by fire...assuming you survived.

She cast a glance towards her assigned flight members, most of them younger and less experienced than she was. Calico had time in service and experience in mercenary outfits, which meant a lot of shooting engagements-she would be Peacenik's number two. Sparrow, similarly, was career Luftwaffe. The only issue was that her career wasn't overly long, and she wasn't overly seasoned. Still, at 26 Fuka had to acknowledge as an adult. Wunderkind, age twenty-one, was still a child to her.

She would admit that she got started as a pilot relatively late in life, so her view was skewed. That said, even if she had started at the very earliest date she would still be older before she had wings even a single year. Four years of university, thirteen weeks of OCS followed by something like eighteen months of flight school and then another four or five of fighter training. And Fuka's experience was actually somewhat truncated by the military's downsizing and refiguring post-Heavenfall!

Mykhalio had skill, certainly, or at least talent. But standing there, listening to him brag about a fight that hadn't happened yet before suddenly trying to play it subdued, she wasn't filled with confidence. She had yet to be impressed by his decision-making or his maturity.

Baby-sitting flight. Okay.

It wasn't all bad. At least Scott had given her Calico instead of sticking her with fucking Jefe.

Ximena Huang

Ground target duty? Again?!

Ximena didn't raise a complaint but did frown when she heard the bad news, rather bummed by the fact that she and La Catrina were again being wasted. Stealth wasn't going to be a factor in the ground raid, not when flying shotgun for a Harrier alongside un maldito facóquero feo.

Well, to be fair, there was no way said warthog driving its nose into the dirt as it chewed up passersby with its thirty milimeter cannon would go unbothered. Like flies, they would come and swarm its thick hide and with enough of them they would chew through. It would be a shame for someone as pretty as Kitten to go from 'battle-scarred' to "smeared across the tarmac', so it fell to Ximena to make sure such a thing didn't happen.

Hopefully it would give them something to talk about alone, without distraction thank you very much Valkyrie.

"It's like the kid says." she piped up. "We're going to be dropping bits of fuselages and uncooked ammo over Tripoli, and then the Navy's rocking up to stick its foot up the collective ass of Libya. Do you know if we're doing a full-scale war?"

Not that she minded, of course. She just wanted to know what she was getting into.

"Besides that, not much else. Seems like more of the same, right?"

"So, you had a good time, at the very least?"

"Heh," she briefly chuckled. Not many pilots she had met would think to ask that question, but it happened to be a question she enjoyed answering. "Always."

Just then, Scott began by stroking their egos. He was clearly enjoying himself, and it felt good to have a squadron leader that actually cared. Of course, they all knew exactly how much ass they kicked, but a fighter pilot never turns down a chance to drink in some praise.

What followed was the briefing of the next phase of the operation, starting immediately. Yuna was happy to find out they were just turning around right away to go kick some more ass. Her Sukhoi had seemed to want more as much as she did when she landed. Better still, she'd be flying under Peacenik's lead and getting stuck in with enemy aircraft. Yuna was ready to be done talking and back in the air, but first...questions. Yuna's least favorite part of any briefing.

Yuna had to admit the youngest pilot's question about civilians was a pertinent one, though she figured it wouldn't be too much trouble to distinguish an airborne Mirage from a civilian airliner. She mentally rolled her eyes as the eager pilot continued, using many words to say just about nothing. Jefe then chimed in with her own take on the situation, which seemed like a reasonable summary.

"Besides that, not much else. Seems like more of the same, right?"

"Another day, another airport," Yuna replied casually, shrugging.

@Letter Bee@Smike

Ayvee sighed softly and pushed off the service truck, rolling her shoulders as if to shake the dust and adrenaline from the last sortie out of her muscles. She soon arrived with the rest to see Scott already briefing them.

“Damn,” she muttered, not loud enough to really be a complaint, more a statement of cosmic fact. “Straight from one mess into another. I was hoping for at least enough downtime to pour a drink that didn’t come in a cockpit-compatible container. Then again, this after hitting that barracks, I doubt we won't be able to scrounge up much...”

Still, the edge of disappointment never quite made it to her eyes. The calm settled back in almost immediately, that familiar switch flipping as the mission details finished slotting into place. Airports, radar sites, and capital airspace. Dangerous, sure, but clean, decisive. Her kind of work.

She gave Scott a casual two-finger salute. “Gotcha. Flight lead. Ground targets. Loud entrance, messier exit. I’m tracking.” A faint smirk. “Try not to steal all the fun before I get there.”

Ayvee glanced over at Ximena as she finished her thought, one brow lifting behind the dark lenses of her aviators. The faintest smirk tugged at her mouth.

“As for full-scale war?” Ayvee shrugged one shoulder. “Feels more like the prelude. The kind where everybody pretends it’s still a limited engagement right up until the carrier shows up and starts rearranging coastlines. If it goes loud after tonight, it won’t be because of us. We’re just opening the door for them,” she finished. At Yuna's comment, Ayvee shot her a finger gun. "Bingo, that's about what matters to us in the end."

She then raised her hand to get Scott's attention.

"One question. To confirm, we're heading right back to Malta after this, yeah? As I said earlier, we don't exactly have any bunks left here after I uh... renovated the place."

@Finetales@Smike@Rhona W

Freyja Svensdotter

Freyja had joined the group not long after landing, the crew was already working away to get the fighter ready for another sortie. “Already’ she thought to herself as she made her way over to the group “You good?” She asked Ximena noticing the fuss she was getting.

Soon enough she was with the squadron as boss man was telling them the next part of the plan, it seems the N/UN finally woke its ass up to what’s going on around it. Being more proactive was good, not everyone was going to like it though. Standing at an at ease state holding her helmet she listening to what was being said. Malta and now Tripoli.

They were the tip of the spear but this time, the target was bigger and the location meant much more enemy resistance. Another ground and pound but this time more likely to be more aircraft as confirmed by Scott, some of their best aircraft. “As for civilians at the airports, this is a possibility, considering the heightened alert I can imagine much of the civilian air traffic would be either diverted or grounded, however I would not be surprised if one decided to Leeroy Jenkins it.”


Amelia Schön

As for Amelia she was one of the last of the bunch to arrive to the group session. Resting her helmet under her arm and she joined the others, well after sorting her hair out like she was in wella advert. She did get to hear the speech that Scott came out with and couldn’t help but snort a bit when he mentioned certain parts shall we say about their lordships. Either way, she held a sigh in, they only just landed and already rearming to go straight back out.

That should not come as a surprise for her, the way thing run here are different to how things were run back at home, and she would have to do her part, after all it’s probably the best way to get to know her fellow pilots’ in the forge of fire so to speak, she really only had time to speak with Fuka before this operation. It seemed to be a rinse and repeat mission, but this time in a larger scale with more variables.

She couldn’t argue with Ayvee wanting to have time for a drink, she too could certainly down something hard right about now, if there is a bar at base or nearby, when the chance would arise she will go hit it, if not sneak out for a drink or two. But alas, duty calls. Amelia couldn’t help but glance over at the wrecked buildings before looking back at Ayvee. “Did the beds really need renovating? As long as you missed the bar” She joked. “Well, First Malta, now Tripoli, you seem to take us to all the best places Colonel” She grinned at their CO.

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