[h1][center][color=#4682B4]Scott Valentine[/color][/center][/h1]

As the squadron rose to join him and Fuka, Scott had a familiar feeling bubbling up in his chest. A mixed feeling of pride in the men and women who had agreed to follow him - but also dread of the thought he might lose any of them. Any [i]more[/i] of them, he thought with a stab of sadness and shame, remembering he'd already lost one of them, so early on. Even if it was to the same sabotage and insurgency that had left him and Kat hurt rather than the enemies' actions, it was still something he felt deeply. 
Nonetheless; having them all in the air together like this, having other planes on his wings and a target in mind - it gave him a sense of purpose he knew he'd struggled without. 
The darkness of the late night hid a lot of details; some of the squadron's aircraft in their dark or low-viz paint schemes (his included) blended in all too well, and only the blinking position lights and nav lights showed them, along with reflections from below. As such, there was no point in a wing-waggle to Fuka or the others, but instead he spoke over the radio as he lead them in the turn out over the sea and towards Libya.
[color=#4682B4]"All aircraft, drop altitude to five hundred feet, and extinguish all external lights. Good hunting, over".[/color] 
Switching channels, he spoke out to Skywatch, the E-2 Hawkeye orbiting well clear of the area, but well within range of the powerful radar mounted atop the turboprop plane's fuselage. As he switched channels on the radio, he also took in the radio picture being sent from the Hawkeye, showing their relative position and that of anything flying, on the ground, or at sea that the operators aboard the aircraft packed in its' fuselage deemed relevant to the mission. He quickly noted Libyan aircraft on patrol over the country and off the shore, and the sweeping radars of SAM sites and early warning radars and felt his heart flutter; they were flying right into the enemies' face, just to kick them in the teeth and then tweak their tails on the way out too. It was gloriously - and [i]absurdly[/i] - daring. 
[color=#4682B4]"Skywatch, Cobalt Leader. Got a good picture comin' through. I can see that there's a good few people burning the midnight oil over there. Looks like we're gonna have to be careful tip-toeing in through the door, over"[/color]
"Roger that, Cobalt Leader. Just stick to the plan, and you'll be fine. I'm sure you can handle whatever they throw at you, over"
[color=#4682B4]"Roger that, Skywatch. Just make sure to keep an eye open for us, and get the greatest hits on tape, over"[/color]
"Always, Cobalt Leader. I'll make sure to cut the highlights reel together in time for you to get home. I've got my eye on you, don't worry. Good hunting, and godspeed, over".

[url=https://youtu.be/_qLGRt2jMks?si=i_PibBGSpBR2Pkky]The miles of ocean passed beneath their wings,[/url] and as the Libyan coastline drew nearer, Scott adjusted the heading minutely, threading the needle between picket ships, nudging them lower still so that they passed [i]under[/i] the detection of hostile radar, sweeping the skies. They passed beneath patrolling aircraft, and then the land passed under their wings.
As Scott had predicted: the lights were off across the city except for essential areas, and their targets lay dead ahead; the airport closing in rapidly as they flew what seemed like deadly low across the patchwork of roads, desert, buildings and civilization. Then they reached the IP, and-
"Skywatch to all Cobalt Squadron aircraft, engage"
[color=#4682B4]"Roger that, Skywatch. Break. Cobalt One to Alpha Flight; engage as briefed. Kitten, take the runway. Jefe, Stingray; take out the air defences. Valkyrie, you and I got the facilities and any parked aircraft. Go, go, go!"[/color]

Even as Scott spoke, the airport started to wake up, the sound of their jet engines couldn't be hidden for long, and as they rose in altitude to safely engage their targets, radars painted their aircraft. Hostile fighters would be slow to respond - but already, there were combat patrols over the city, and some of the pilots were clearly quicker off the mark and more skilled or independent than others, and they turned toward the squadron, even as others checked for confirmation on what their screens were showing them. A flight of MiG-29's headed toward Cobalt Haze squadron, and Skywatch's patient and cool voice advised them on the incoming aircraft, even as another flight of Mirages likewise started to creep their way

Meanwhile, the surface defences of the airport didn't lay idle either. Searchlights speared upward, sweeping to get a glimpse of the aircraft honing in on their position, and search radars for the HAWK Gecko SAM systems swept the skies, hunting desperately for the attacking aircraft. There was also the ever-present and worrying danger of infra-red guided missiles; no radars betrayed their presence, and the same with optically guided guns. 
Lights on the ground stayed blazing, as the targeted Libyans hurried to get defence aircraft airborne, or hurry along flight operations already in progress.

Scott rolled his shoulders in his seat straps, and ignored the bead of sweat that trickled between his eyes as he breathed the stale, rubber-smelling oxygen through his mask. The Harrier performed like it always did under his expert hand; dancing through the skies with the grace and elegance of the predatory bird that was its' namesake. The radar warning receiver warbled and buzzed angrily as one of the hunting SAM launchers caught him, but the warning was transitory; he may have gained altitude, but he was still low enough that the ground clutter was causing issues. 
He selected the AGM-122 Sidearm missiles from his weapons available, and the passive seekers did their magic, sniffing through the bouquet of electromagnetic signals crowding the skies until they found the one for the airports' search and tracking radar, and confirmed their lock-on to Scott. He held the Harrier steady and on course long enough to fire first one, and then the second missile. Both weapons, looking like the Sidewinders they were developed from, blasted off the rails in a flare of yellow-white flame as he called 'Magnum' twice over the radio, before heeling over in a sharp bank and changing direction to confuse anyone targeting him from below. 

[center][H1][color=violet]Kat 'Kitten' Kane[/color][/H1][/center]

Unlike Scott, Kat had kept down low. Her Warthog carried no anti-radar munitions; that was the task for Scott and her other wingmates. Her target was the runway and anything on it, attempting to disable the airports' ability to launch more aircraft. Once they reached the initial point, she nosed up only a little; just far enough to give the LITENING targeting pod under her wing enough range to see the intersection between the two runways, and the entry-and-exit taxiways. Designating three of them, she stabbed the release button on her stick, pulling back gently to aid the separation from the A-10's belly, and sending the trio of thousand-pound laser guided bombs on their way, gliding toward the targets highlight by her laser, even as she nosed down again, searching for her next target. 

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