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

Scott watched in a mix of amazement and bewilderment as Mykhailo charged in. The kid might be green as a lilypad, but he had balls the size of Jupiter when it came to putting himself in harm's way. The marine aviator noted the F-16 punch home a variety of hits against an array of targets, and mentally scolded that. [i]Focus on one target, then reattack[/i] he chided mentally. [i]Too many chances to be hit otherwise! Too much target conflict.[/i]
As much as the veteran aviator may have chided that mentally, however; he was relieved to hear Fuka provide some stern, but fair guidance - even though Brightspark's attacks were doing damage. One of the airport's radars was damaged by the rocket attack, Scott's own ordnance finishing it off. The runway was further cratered along with Kat's munitions already damaging it, putting it thoroughly out of action - not to mention, Mykhailo's bomb causing collateral in the form of aircraft on the taxiways, hit by the fragments. The cannonfire volley was less hard to determine; the 20mm rounds would have done some damage, but they weren't nearly potent enough to completely collapse the buildings. 
Nonetheless, the younger pilot had certainly reaped his toll - but at cost, as one of the mobile SAM launchers defending the airport launched missiles toward the nimble, sleek F-16. Pillars of fire flashed up into the night as the four-wheeled armoured vehicle let loose, the missiles tracking in on the bright hot exhaust of Myk's F-16.

As situationally aware as Scott was, even he couldn't track everything, least of all a black jet in a black night sky, but he could see the plume of flame as Fuka launched her HARM at the cleverly concealed radar, and heard her announce the weapon release. With such short distances involved, there was barely a delay before Skywatch came back with a 'Confirmed, Peacenik; radar is destroyed or off the air, over'. The burst of her bomb hitting target lit up the night sky with another brief globe of flaming light as well, even as more tracer fire from all manner of weapons criss-crossed the skies; anti-aircraft guns, heavy machine-guns, and even ground infantry spraying the heavens and trying to become a legend and shoot down the untouchable combat jets and humble their pilots, or out of sheer terror and helplessness. 

His attention was jolted back to the present as he heard Yuna's call over the net, and he replied with his characteristic laid-back manner, even as he fed his plane more throttle and nosed up, easing the wing over to bring himself onto course with the younger woman's Sukhoi, and where it was involved in the complicated aerial ballet with the chasing MiG-29's. He broke the one on Yuna's tail out of the melee, and armed one of his Sidewinders, the missiles' seeker head filling his ears with its' familiar pulsing tones as it searched.
[color=#4682B4]"Roger, Cobalt 8; I hear ya. Keep him interested just a second longer, I'm gunnin' for him, over".[/color]
Scott's gloved hand moved to the controls for the VTOL nozzles on the sides of the Harrier's fuselage, and with a little turn of the wheel, that slight bit of vertical lift nosed up just enough... 
The sidewinder locked on with a firm growl, and he thumbed the fire button on his stick, calling out as he did. 
[color=#4682B4]"Cobalt One; Fox Two!"[/color]
The missile rocketed into the darkness, and Scott's helmet-mounted sight kept the Fulcrum in sight, even as it heeled over hard and dumped flares. He rolled hard to follow; pull 270-degrees of bank and nosing down to follow as the twin-tailed jet, like a smaller shadow of Calico's plane, tried to lose the missile, even as it relentlessly followed, ignoring the bait of flares that arced out into the night sky. It slammed home at the join between the nose and fuselage of the plane, turning into into a tumbling fireball as Scott nosed up, using the vertical lift once more to smoothly pull out of the dive and nose back around to the airport. 

[center][b][h1][color=violet]Kat 'Kitten' Kane[/color][/h1][/b][/center]

Kat's callsign may have been 'Kitten', but the irony inherent in it was that she wasn't the cute, playful little feline of greetings cards, calendars and motivational posters. She was a hunter; a battle-scarred panther that moved through shadows and crushed its' prey between powerful jaws, and tore it to pieces with knife-like claws. Her scars were her personal kill-marks; the fights she'd lived through and carried with her as experience and proof she'd survived. A warning or challenge to others: [i]This is what I've lived through already, you'd better be prepared if you want to try me.[/i]
As such, scudding around at low level, she was in her element in the target-rich environment presented to her. Yes, she was more vulnerable to aerial threats and to air defences... but only if they saw her first, or weren't preoccupied with her friends and allies. 
And they were; the rest of the squadron's jets raised hell over the airport, and drew fire from anti-aircraft guns and SAM emplacements, marking them out for her via their telltale tracers and plumes of exhaust, and homed in through the LITENING pod under her wing. The SAM that fired on Brightspark received a pair of APKWS rockets for its' trouble. A BTR firing skyward got hosed with 30mm Avenger fire, and as she wheeled over the suburbs, banking to come around, she angled for the airports' aprons and hangars. She climbed slightly, and punched off two of the four CBU-103's as the release point tagged itself in her HUD, smoothly continuing the climb as Ximena spoke to her in that cheery, cocky tone she had. 
[color=violet]"Roger, Hefe"[/color] she replied in her normal, rough, scratchy, low timbre. [color=violet]"Good to know I've got eyes watching my back, and appreciated. Didn't Cobalt 8 just call in some bandits, if you're looking for some playmates, over?[/color]
As they spoke, Kat's munitions carried out their pre-programmed task. Airbags flung out 10 submunitions from each bomb, and in turn, after a timed delay, each of [i]them[/i] released four 'skeets', hockey-puck shaped projectiles which were little more than a package of sensors and an explosive charge. As they scanned the area and identified parked aircraft, support equipment, servicing vehicles and armoured vehicles, each one detonated, the explosion forming a penetrator that blasted through the skins of the vehicles, aircraft, or other equipment, disabling it and tearing it apart. In some cases, the impacts caused further explosions, and the apron was covered thoroughly by the pair of bombs and their [i]eighty[/i] skeets. Any that didn't find a target self-detonated 50 feet up, avoiding any unexploded munitions.
For any observer, the effect was utterly terrifying as a chain of explosions blanketed the parking apron from seemingly out of nowhere, tearing through all the targets in place.

Jefe was about to get her wishes answered, however; as Skywatch called in over the squadron's channel.
"Cobalt Squadron, this is Skywatch. Be advised; I have a formation of four bandits approaching hot at high speed. Altitude ten thousand; radar identifies them as F-15's, but I'm getting issues resolving a steady picture at this range. These must be some of the mercs the Libyans have hired. Be on your guard, their aircraft may be heavily modified or unusual types, given the radar returns, over!"

[center] * * * [/center]

In the cockpit of the lead F-15, the pilot spoke calmly to his wingmen as they closed in. 
[color=a0410d]"Lady and Gentlemen; let's show our employers what their money can buy and make the boss back home proud. These upstart N/UNny mercs are going to regret being so bold. Break and engage. And don't hesitate to use your shiny toys, over"[/color]
The replies of 'Roger' ranged from calm and cool to eager and almost thrilled as they came in, and Reynard couldn't help an eager smile of his own creeping onto his lips under his oxygen mask. 
[color=a0410d]"Titan Nine, Engaging"[/color]
The [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boeing_F-15SE_Silent_Eagle]F-15SE Silent Eagle[/url] split from it's fellows, the V-Tailed, stealth-enhanced air superiority fighter diving toward the battlefield, a black F/A-18 in his sights, as his radar swept the skies for a lock-on. His aircraft was matte black with gold trim, and steel grey accents, the only identifying marking a simple gold 'T' surrounded by four gold stars on the tails and upper wing surfaces. Like all of the aircraft in his unit, they carried AMRAAM's in the stealthy compartments on the fuselage sides, as well as AIM-9X's under the wings, along with a pair of their 'shiny toys'; large pods a similar angular shape and size to a Storm Shadow or Taurus cruise missile; or an ECM pod, but tapering to a nosecone that had a large, dark, smoky lens at the tip; like a targeting or camera pod. 
His wingmen went other ways, one of the matte-black jets with subtle gold-and-aqua trim arrowing for Yuna. The one with white trim singled out Hefe as she lurked in the clouds, while the last one, with lilac trim, sliced through the skies toward Mykhailo's plane, all of them sweeping for lockons, setting radar warnings blaring in the cockpits of the Cobalt Haze squadron planes. 

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