[h1][center][color=lightcoral]Yuna Xu[/color][/center][/h1]

[quote=@Rhona W]
[color=#4682B4]"Roger, Cobalt 8; I hear ya. Keep him interested just a second longer, I'm gunnin' for him, over".[/color][/quote]

Scott's reassuring radio call was music to Yuna's ears. The two remaining MiGs were hounding her, and she was purely on the defensive, chaining together high-G evasive maneuever after another to stay out of their hunting crosshairs. Lining one up for a missile lock was currently out of the question, and she could only tolerate so many punishing Gs before her body gave out.

Thankfully, Scott's Fox Two call came before that happened, and the resulting explosion lit up the sky. The radar warning beeps ceased in Yuna's cockpit as the other MiG broke off, clearly not wanting to be on the other side of a 2-on-1. [color=lightcoral]"Ha, you bitch!"[/color] she yelled, followed by calling on the radio [color=lightcoral]"Thanks Heartbreak, I owe you one!"[/color]

She was out of the tangle, but her reprieve was short-lived.

[quote=@Rhona W]"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!"[/quote]

[color=lightcoral]"Let me guess,"[/color] Yuna muttered, rolling her eyes. The implied and unstated second part of her statement was that at least one of the four bandits would head straight for her.

And sure enough, [i]Naga Merah[/i] started screaming at Yuna once more. [color=lightcoral]"[i]Awak anjing![/i]"[/color] she spat at her plane in Malay. Just as she began turning the plane to square off against her attacker, the beeps became a solid tone and Yuna punched out flares and yanked the stick hard right and down. The missile hit a flare and exploded behind Yuna, who continued the turn to hopefully gain a favorable position against the F-15.

But [i]Naga Merah[/i] was still beeping at her. This F-15 was out for blood. Yuna tightened the turn as much as the Sukhoi would give, and the beeps stopped as she saw the F-15 fly right over her, already banking to try to get behind her. She could barely see the plane at all in the darkness.

As she rolled the plane over and began a split S to hopefully get behind the F-15's downward bank, her brain made some connections that hit her like a Mack truck. [color=lightcoral]"Wait..."[/color]

Blacked out F-15s...
Subtle trim...
Hyper aggressive...
Shows up late...

[i][color=lightcoral]Could it be...?[/color][/i]

A memory flashed through Yuna's mind. A weathered cockpit, a younger Yuna at the controls, and an overwhelming sense of immense frustration. A MiG-23 held together with duct tape, an incompetent squadron around her, and a seemingly endless parade of enemy fighters that she alone was responsible for. The Kazakh desert below would not be forgiving if a missile finally connected.

And suddenly...

A blacked out F-15.

Punching out. The long fall to the ground, looking on helplessly as most of your squadron gets decimated, and the survivors run for the hills. Meeting that Kazakh desert up close, and way too personal.

The flashback only took moments, but it told everything. And now Yuna's situation was all too clear.

[color=lightcoral]"Not this time, motherfucker,"[/color] she muttered through gritted teeth as she completed her split S, keeping the stick pulled back as she saw the F-15 perpendicular to her at two o-clock high. She banked right to get her crosshairs lined up, and when she got a solid tone, she squeezed the trigger and let an R-73E fly, calling out [color=lightcoral]"Cobalt 8, Fox Two"[/color] as she did so.

The missile missed its mark, hitting one of the flares the F-15 deployed as the F-15 entered a steep dive to assist evasion. But this didn't bother Yuna; she had a plan.

Radar lock hunting. 10 missiles left.

[@Rhona W]