Smike

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Ximena Huang

It all made sense to Ximena. Libya had been many things in the past few decades, but overly friendly with its neighbors? Not as far as she could tell. Non-essential civilian flights would have been cut down, if only to save on fuel and spare parts. She could fly without worrying about taking out some family of four waiting for their flight to the Caymans, and if there was collateral, well...

Shit happened. This wasn't some nice pitched battle where two evenly matched armies met to politely slaughter each other like gentlemen, this was a modern war fought in the modern battlespace: Everywhere. People tended to live in Everywhere, as expansive as it was, and unfortunately it wasn't always possible to send them a two week notice to clear out. Ximena didn't have the time or inclination to worry about every potential casualty; as long as she was good at what she did they would be kept to a minimum.

Mykhalio, well, he seemed to be preoccupied with the risk. Perhaps he wasn't as good a dogfighter as he thought.

"Hey kid, the papers you signed might have been different than mine, but last I checked, our job was to blow things up as ordered and kill on command. she noted wryly. "If you've invented a bomb that can differentiate between Evil Enemy Troops and Poor Innocent Civilians you should probably go patent that. Leave the combat for-"

Fuka Nakano

"Huang, shut the fuck up. That's an order."

Fuka gave the command with all the anger of someone setting a flight schedule, simply stating what was required and expecting her subordinate to stick to it. Like a good dog, Jefe piped down. She was a type Fuka had seen many times before-smug enough to run her mouth, smart enough to shut it in self-preservation. She was a walking argument for corporal punishment, but failing that someone would just have to keep an eye on her lest she have too much fun with the high-strung baby of the group.

Oh what a joy it was to share a squadron with Jefe and Brightspark, what a joy indeed. A high-functioning alcoholic egomaniac who wished she were still flying for the ChiComs and an inflexible, overeager runt who was a hair away from shooting people he didn't like in the head. Those two, in combination with Kitten's traumatic past and Valkyrie's guilt over her previous career, made Peacenik feel like the second-in-command of a flying psych ward.

This was on her, to some extent. You didn't walk into a merc outfit expecting everyone to be perfectly squared away; in doing so she had demonstrated that she herself was mad-a hell of a Catch-22.

"We're taking off because it's our job, and once we're off we're fighting with everything we got because the enemy will be doing the same. Politics, ethics, morals, karma, all of that comes in distant second to the two rules: watch each other's backs, and don't die. If anyone has comments and concerns unrelated to those rules you can save them and then start a debate club back at base."

With the air cleared Fuka boarded her Black Bunny silently, slipping on her helmet and mask before tapping the cockpit controls. The glass came down as the engines warmed, the professional pilot stretching her fake fingers before grabbing the stick. She was airborne in minutes, pulling up alongside Scott as ordered.

"Alright, Cobalt 5, 8, 10-you're riding with me. Here's how we break down the approach. Brightspark, we're on Wild Weasel duty. We focus on their facilities on the ground, kill any radar and then hit their runways, fuel trucks, hangars, anything they can use to get planes into the sky. Calico, Sparrow, you're in the air superiority fighters so you do what comes naturally. Anything that sniffs at me or Spark, make it rethink its actions. Remember, air defenses are last on our hitlist. Focus on shredding the priority targets and then getting away clean."

She didn't enjoy flying with a bunch of missiles under her free to find a lock, but that's what flares were for.

"If I go down, Calico becomes flight lead. Do what she says unless Heartbreak says otherwise."

@Letter Bee @Finetales @Damo021

Splintered / Reflections

@Chevaleresse

Horned Bastard, 202nd of the Ravenous Cohort

"This one understands your concern." the Devil said neutrally, not rising to Feanulde's agitation. Being a Gennari meant they could sense other people's emotions, viewing their fear and anger from a neutral distance, as if watching a recording. The elf had taken precautions, wise precautions, but learned that they hadn't worked as well as she would have liked. This was understandably upsetting but puzzling; surely such an outcome would have been foreseen by someone seeking to dodge the Totality?

"While the process of determining who is on a list and who isn't is hardly explained to the rank and file, guesses can be hazarded based on experience. You were entrusted with specialized training and acknowledged as an elite engineer who worked on effective drone units, your survival was thus beneficial to the Totality. They likely searched the wreckage of whatever accident you staged and did not find enough biological material to confirm your death. That, combined with the timing of your disappearance, likely raised questions, and you were marked as a defector. If you were found you would be brought in to be rehabilitated into a drone yourself; if you were truly dead there was no cost in leaving you as Wanted."

HB cocked their head, red eyes fixed on Feannulde with curiosity.

"Would it not be illogical to assume that one individual, regardless of how intelligent they are, would be able to permanently outsmart an empire of advanced minds linked with machines?"

Splintered / Reflections

Snip

@Chevaleresse

Horned Bastard, 202nd of the Ravenous Cohort

HB blinked once as Feanulde ripped into the Coalition, neither agreeing with her assessment nor leaping to defend their comrades. It was clear that the Human-dominated organization did things very differently from what was mandated in Totality organizations, the differences in culture so vast as to be at times insurmountable. It did not surprise HB that the elf disdained their new masters and their reliance on emotion, although the Zealot did feel a touch of something resembling amusement at such a sentiment stirring an entirely emotional response.

But the elf's fear confused the Gennari, HB realizing that Feannulde both knew and assumed less than they had thought.

"Yes. Part of the standard education procedure for units like this one is the flash memorization of all known fugitives from the Totality, and the mental database is periodically updated via direct link to various networks. This is to make it easier for the unit to perform searches. Seeing your face pulled up your file automatically."

---------------

Jacobin Dokken

Jacobin had been sleeping on the flight, slumped over in her seat and quietly grunting with every spot of turbulence. She had always been good at snatching rest when it was available, a skill of immense value in the military. Fighting alongside aliens was no different-maybe they didn't need to sleep but Jacobin, still very much human, did.

Unfortunately, duty called. When Silverwind shouted for everyone to mount up she did so, automatically unbuckling her harness and stepping over to the MAS units. "I guess there's no uncertainty now." she groused, pulling at a strap. "Can't say I like walking out to meet them on their terms."

Marching out across the open desert under the clear sky, perfect prey for all sorts of satellites and sensors and sci-fi Star Wars nonsense.

"When you say poking, do you mean a scout patrol? Or a division?"

@Rhona W

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Mickey De Lange

Name: Johann De Lange
Callsign/Nickname: Mickey, as in Mickey Mouse. His voice is naturally high-pitched and he's on the shorter side.
Age: 58, April 13, 1956
Gender: Male
Appearance:


Mickey's at the tail end of middle age-ancient by military standards. While still quite physically strong and certainly healthy, there's no escaping time's toll. Although he's kept a full head of hair it's started greying in parts, his skin weathered by years of sun and smoking. On the shorter side at only 5'6" but with broad shoulders and big hands, he could have been a boxer in another life. Always image-conscious, his civilian wear consists of suits and overcoats regardless of the weather.

Nationality: Canadian by birth, naturalized American and South African citizen

Personality: Johann is a throwback to an earlier age, a Cold War relic and remnant of the post-war gun-for-hire culture that sprang in Africa. He considers himself the last of the true mercenaries, from a time when they wore jeans and used cammies as opposed to suits and regulation flight vests, back when governments were somewhat embarrassed by hiring contractors. A dedicated and vehement anti-Communist, he misses the Cold War very much. Say what you will about the Eastern Bloc, they made a good enemy.

He’s kind of lost in the wake of the Heavenfall, drifting from battle to battle in search of something to do. Laid back and rather languid in his speech, he can come off as lazy, sleepy, or simply not very intelligent. Nothing could be further from the truth-Johann is old, and with age comes a willingness shut up and watch people dig holes for themselves.

History: Born in Calgary, Johann’s parents were South African expats who had immigrated after World War 2 when his father found work in the oil industry. Growing up in Lloydminster he spent much of his childhood hunting moose, bear, and waterfowl in rural Saskatchewan in between bouts of school and traveling with his father for work. By his mid-teens Johann was set on studying petroleum or chemical engineering in order to become an oil man himself but changed his plans after a chance encounter with a bush pilot. Suddenly fascinated flight and taking after his father (a veteran of the East African Campaign and a former member of the infamous Security Branch) he settled on becoming a combat pilot in hopes of battling Communist aggression. Pivoting to flight school he applied for his student pilot permit the day of his sixteenth birthday, and by seventeen he was a fully-fledged flier ready for military training.

Unfortunately, Canada was not involved in much combat by the time he was coming of age and had, in fact, conspicuously sat out Vietnam. Joining the RCAF seemed like a path to nothing except training flights so Johann left for the United States to join the USAAF, hoping they'd get involved in another conflict sooner or later. He graduated the United States Air Force Academy and was first trained on the F4 Phantom and before transitioning to the F14 Tomcat. His first assignment being a deployment to Persia to assist in training the Imperial Iranian Air Force, shortly before it became the Islamic Republic of Iran Air Force and Americans were no longer welcome.

Disappointed by his still not having been in a proper shooting war, Johann did not reenlist upon completing his service. Instead of return to Canada or the United States however he went abroad, returning to his family's homeland in South Africa. He was granted citizenship due to his parents and quickly folded into the SAAF. First flying the Atlas Impala and then later the Mirage III he did recon flights to support the South African-backed RENAMO in the Mozambique Civil War. Later he would finally get his wish and see combat in the Border War, bombing Soviet-backed forces in Angola and Namibia.

By 1985 he had retired again but remained embroiled in the war, now flying as a mercenary against the communist MPLA. He continued flying as a mercenary until the 90s, seeing action in the Yugoslav Wars as well as in the Persian Gulf. Towards the end of his career he had migrated to Soviet planes due to them being common amongst his employers, transitioning from the venerable MiG-21 to the more modern Su-27.

By 2000 he was now completely and truly retired. Somewhere along the way, Johann had acquired a boat and a house in Laguna Beach as well as an ex-wife he didn't much care for and a daughter who didn't care much for him. He was content to live out the rest of his life getting old and fat while fishing, with only the occasional joyride to remind him of his wartime escapades.

Unfortunately, the Heavenfall messed up his plans. The boat sank, the house was entirely destroyed, the wife simply disappeared, and the daughter was hospitalized with severe psychosis, leaving Johan with plenty of bills to pay and two grandchildren to support financially. Thus he found himself flying again, joining up with a couple of small mercenary companies in the early 2000s. With those dissolving due to lack of funds and equipment he made his way to the nascent Shattered Steel, and in a bit of historical irony was once again assigned to training foreign pilots, this time in the rebuilding JSDF. It was there that he met the ex-Ranger and current squid pilot Fuka Nakano.

Johann was rough-spun and somewhat crude, a lover of beer and motor bikes who had nothing but disdainful pity for the poor bastards not smart enough to fly a plane and thus had to fight on land. Fuka was from a very wealthy and well-cultured family, a teetotaler who wouldn't be caught dead on a chopper, as well as being ex-military who in many ways preferred the groundpounding lifestyle. Despite their many differences in personality and the gap in age (or perhaps because of them), the two struck up an odd friendship, and when Fuka was looking to leave the military, it was Johann who suggested she fly for Shattered.

Personal Gear:

• R4 Rifle:The standard issue rifle of the South African Defence Force, upgraded with Picatinny rail and red dot sight. It's essentially a Galil with better optics.
• M1911A1: A design that's old as dirt and yet still works. Johann was issued one in the USAF and has kept using it out of familiarity.

Personal Aircraft: Sukhoi 35 "Whiskey Jack"

Aircraft modifications: The Whiskey Jack is heavily modified to the point that the total work done and components added approach the value of the plane itself.

• Retrofitted with modern electronic and avionic systems (namely AN/APG-83 AESA) as well as touchpad instruments, and distributed aperture system. Additionally, its HOTAS has been supplemented with direct voice input.
• Vintage Soviet-era helmet-mounted display replaced with a modified version of the F-35 Helmet-Mounted Display System.
• Capable of carrying a wide range of Western munitions for ease of logistics.
• Has Multifunction Advanced Data Link installed along with EW capabilities
• Carrier-landing capabilities
• Japanese style sea camo,a hold over from his time training the JDSF.

Anything Else:

• Johan and Fuka have been friends for years, despite their differences in age and personality. Mickey is rough-spun and somewhat crude, likes cold beers and cruiser-style motorbikes while hating rich kids and stupidity, the height of which he considers fighting on foot. Fuka is often rather quiet, erudite, from a wealthy family and is former infantry. Despite all of that, they’re able to spend hours hanging around doing nothing.
• The Whiskey Jack's extremely expensive upgrades are due to its service history. Originally purchased by the Indian Air Force and then quickly sold off post=Heavenfall, it found its way into the fleet of Silverbirch Security Services, a nascent PMC of sketchy origin backed in part by Misriah Ironworks. There it gained some of its more advanced systems which had been sourced through means left unquestioned. Upon Silverbirch collapsing in on itself the company was bought out by Le Guivre, a security consortium run by an eccentric billionaire who enjoyed playing soldier. Said billionaire spent lavishly on upgrades to the point of near-foolishness, until he shot himself when his home was attacked by corrupt police seeking to extort him. With no one around to stop him Johann took the Whiskey Jack with him when he went to Shattered Steel.
• In addition to his native English and Afrikaans Johann has a working knowledge of Russian,a valuable skill for someone flying a Soviet plane.

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Mickey De Lange

Name: Johann De Lange
Callsign/Nickname: Mickey, as in Mickey Mouse. His voice is naturally high-pitched and he's on the shorter side.
Age: 58, April 13, 1956
Gender: Male
Appearance:


Mickey's at the tail end of middle age-ancient by military standards. While still quite physically strong and certainly healthy, there's no escaping time's toll. Although he's kept a full head of hair it's started greying in parts, his skin weathered by years of sun and smoking. On the shorter side at only 5'6" but with broad shoulders and big hands, he could have been a boxer in another life. Always image-conscious, his civilian wear consists of suits and overcoats regardless of the weather.

Nationality: Canadian by birth, naturalized American and South African citizen

Personality: Johann is a throwback to an earlier age, a Cold War relic and remnant of the post-war gun-for-hire culture that sprang in Africa. He considers himself the last of the true mercenaries, from a time when they wore jeans and used cammies as opposed to suits and regulation flight vests, back when governments were somewhat embarrassed by hiring contractors. A dedicated and vehement anti-Communist, he misses the Cold War very much. Say what you will about the Eastern Bloc, they made a good enemy.

He’s kind of lost in the wake of the Heavenfall, drifting from battle to battle in search of something to do. Laid back and rather languid in his speech, he can come off as lazy, sleepy, or simply not very intelligent. Nothing could be further from the truth-Johann is old, and with age comes a willingness shut up and watch people dig holes for themselves.

History: Born in Calgary, Johann’s parents were South African expats who had immigrated after World War 2 when his father found work in the oil industry. Growing up in Lloydminster he spent much of his childhood hunting moose, bear, and waterfowl in rural Saskatchewan in between bouts of school and traveling with his father for work. By his mid-teens Johann was set on studying petroleum or chemical engineering in order to become an oil man himself but changed his plans after a chance encounter with a bush pilot. Suddenly fascinated flight and taking after his father (a veteran of the East African Campaign and a former member of the infamous Security Branch) he settled on becoming a combat pilot in hopes of battling Communist aggression. Pivoting to flight school he applied for his student pilot permit the day of his sixteenth birthday, and by seventeen he was a fully-fledged flier ready for military training.

Unfortunately, Canada was not involved in much combat by the time he was coming of age and had, in fact, conspicuously sat out Vietnam. Joining the RCAF seemed like a path to nothing except training flights so Johann left for the United States to join the USAAF, hoping they'd get involved in another conflict sooner or later. He graduated the United States Air Force Academy and was first trained on the F4 Phantom and before transitioning to the F14 Tomcat. His first assignment being a deployment to Persia to assist in training the Imperial Iranian Air Force, shortly before it became the Islamic Republic of Iran Air Force and Americans were no longer welcome.

Disappointed by his still not having been in a proper shooting war, Johann did not reenlist upon completing his service. Instead of return to Canada or the United States however he went abroad, returning to his family's homeland in South Africa. He was granted citizenship due to his parents and quickly folded into the SAAF. First flying the Atlas Impala and then later the Mirage III he did recon flights to support the South African-backed RENAMO in the Mozambique Civil War. Later he would finally get his wish and see combat in the Border War, bombing Soviet-backed forces in Angola and Namibia.

By 1985 he had retired again but remained embroiled in the war, now flying as a mercenary against the communist MPLA. He continued flying as a mercenary until the 90s, seeing action in the Yugoslav Wars as well as in the Persian Gulf. Towards the end of his career he had migrated to Soviet planes due to them being common amongst his employers, transitioning from the venerable MiG-21 to the more modern Su-27.

By 2000 he was now completely and truly retired. Somewhere along the way, Johann had acquired a boat and a house in Laguna Beach as well as an ex-wife he didn't much care for and a daughter who didn't care much for him. He was content to live out the rest of his life getting old and fat while fishing, with only the occasional joyride to remind him of his wartime escapades.

Unfortunately, the Heavenfall messed up his plans. The boat sank, the house was entirely destroyed, the wife simply disappeared, and the daughter was hospitalized with severe psychosis, leaving Johan with plenty of bills to pay and two grandchildren to support financially. Thus he found himself flying again, joining up with a couple of small mercenary companies in the early 2000s. With those dissolving due to lack of funds and equipment he made his way to the nascent Shattered Steel, and in a bit of historical irony was once again assigned to training foreign pilots, this time in the rebuilding JSDF. It was there that he met the ex-Ranger and current squid pilot Fuka Nakano.

Johann was rough-spun and somewhat crude, a lover of beer and motor bikes who had nothing but disdainful pity for the poor bastards not smart enough to fly a plane and thus had to fight on land. Fuka was from a very wealthy and well-cultured family, a teetotaler who wouldn't be caught dead on a chopper, as well as being ex-military who in many ways preferred the groundpounding lifestyle. Despite their many differences in personality and the gap in age (or perhaps because of them), the two struck up an odd friendship, and when Fuka was looking to leave the military, it was Johann who suggested she fly for Shattered.

Personal Gear:

• R4 Rifle:The standard issue rifle of the South African Defence Force, upgraded with Picatinny rail and red dot sight. It's essentially a Galil with better optics.
• M1911A1: A design that's old as dirt and yet still works. Johann was issued one in the USAF and has kept using it out of familiarity.

Personal Aircraft: Sukhoi 35 "Whiskey Jack"

Aircraft modifications: The Whiskey Jack is heavily modified to the point that the total work done and components added approach the value of the plane itself.

• Retrofitted with modern electronic and avionic systems (namely AN/APG-83 AESA) as well as touchpad instruments, and distributed aperture system. Additionally, its HOTAS has been supplemented with direct voice input.
• Vintage Soviet-era helmet-mounted display replaced with a modified version of the F-35 Helmet-Mounted Display System.
• Capable of carrying a wide range of Western munitions for ease of logistics.
• Has Multifunction Advanced Data Link installed along with EW capabilities
• Carrier-landing capabilities
• Japanese style sea camo,a hold over from his time training the JDSF.

Anything Else:

• Johan and Fuka have been friends for years, despite their differences in age and personality. Mickey is rough-spun and somewhat crude, likes cold beers and cruiser-style motorbikes while hating rich kids and stupidity, the height of which he considers fighting on foot. Fuka is often rather quiet, erudite, from a wealthy family and is former infantry. Despite all of that, they’re able to spend hours hanging around doing nothing.
• The Whiskey Jack's extremely expensive upgrades are due to its service history. Originally purchased by the Indian Air Force and then quickly sold off post=Heavenfall, it found its way into the fleet of Silverbirch Security Services, a nascent PMC of sketchy origin backed in part by Misriah Ironworks. There it gained some of its more advanced systems which had been sourced through means left unquestioned. Upon Silverbirch collapsing in on itself the company was bought out by Le Guivre, a security consortium run by an eccentric billionaire who enjoyed playing soldier. Said billionaire spent lavishly on upgrades to the point of near-foolishness, until he shot himself when his home was attacked by corrupt police seeking to extort him. With no one around to stop him Johann took the Whiskey Jack with him when he went to Shattered Steel.
• In addition to his native English and Afrikaans Johann has a working knowledge of Russian,a valuable skill for someone flying a Soviet plane.

Smike's Sheets

My Hider

Name: Johan Wilson
Callsign/Nickname: Mickey, as in Mickey Mouse. His voice is naturally high-pitched and he's on the shorter side.
Age: 58, April 13, 1956
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Mickey's at the tail end of middle age-ancient by military standards. While still quite physically strong and certainly healthy, there's no escaping time's toll. Although he's kept a full head of hair, it's started greying in parts, his skin weathered by years of sun and smoking. On the shorter side at only 5'6" but with broad shoulders and big hands, he could have been a boxer in another life. Always image-conscious, his civilian wear consists of suits and overcoats regardless of the weather.

Nationality: Canadian by birth, naturalized American and South African citizen
Personality: Johann is a throwback to an earlier age, a Cold War relic and remnant of the post-war gun-for-hire culture that sprang in Africa. He considers himself the last of the true mercenaries, from a time where they wore jeans and used cammies as opposed to suits and regulation flight vests, back when governments were somewhat embarrassed by hiring contractors. A dedicated and vehement anti-Communist, he misses the Cold War very much. Say what you will about the Eastern Bloc, they made a good enemy.

He’s kind of lost in the wake of the Heavenfall, drifting from battle to battle in search of something to do. Laid back and rather languid in his speech, he can come off as lazy, sleepy, or simply not very intelligent. Nothing could be further from the truth-Johann is old, and with age comes a willingness shut up and watch people dig holes for themselves.

History: Born in Calgary, Johann’s parents were South African expats who had immigrated after World War 2 when his father found work in the oil industry. Growing up in Lloydminster he spent much of his childhood hunting moose, bear, and waterfowl in rural Saskatchewan in between bouts of school and traveling with his father for work. By his mid-teens Johann was set on studying petroleum or chemical engineering in order to become an oil man himself but changed his plans after a chance encounter with a bush pilot. Suddenly fascinated flight and taking after his father (a veteran of the East African Campaign and a former member of the infamous Security Branch) he settled on becoming a combat pilot in hopes of battling Communist aggression. Pivoting to flight school he applied for his student pilot permit the day of his sixteenth birthday, and by seventeen he was a fully-fledged flier ready for military training.

Unfortunately, Canada was not involved in much combat by the time he was coming of age and had, in fact, conspicuously sat out Vietnam. Joining the RCAF seemed like a path to nothing except training flights so Johann left for the United States to join the USAAF, hoping they'd get involved in another conflict sooner or later. He graduated the United States Air Force Academy and was first trained on the F4 Phantom and before transitioning to the F14 Tomcat. His first assignment being a deployment to Persia to assist in training the Imperial Iranian Air Force, shortly before it became the Islamic Republic of Iran Air Force and Americans were no longer welcome.

Disappointed by his still not having been in a proper shooting war, Johann did not reenlist upon completing his service. Instead of return to Canada or the United States however he went abroad, returning to his family's homeland in South Africa. He was granted citizenship due to his parents and quickly folded into the SAAF. First flying the Atlas Impala and then later the Mirage III he did recon flights to support the South African-backed RENAMO in the Mozambique Civil War. Later he would finally get his wish and see combat in the Border War, bombing Soviet-backed forces in Angola and Namibia.

By 1985 he had retired again but remained embroiled in the war, now flying as a mercenary against the communist MPLA. He continued flying as a mercenary until the 90s, seeing action in the Yugoslav Wars as well as in the Persian Gulf. Towards the end of his career he had migrated to Soviet planes due to them being common amongst his employers, transitioning from the venerable MiG-21 to the more modern Su-27.

By 2000 he was now completely and truly retired. Somewhere along the way, Johann had acquired a boat and a house in Laguna Beach as well as an ex-wife he didn't much care for and a daughter who didn't care much for him. He was content to live out the rest of his life getting old and fat while fishing, with only the occasional joyride to remind him of his wartime escapades.

Unfortunately, the Heavenfall messed up his plans. The boat sank, the house was entirely destroyed, the wife simply disappeared, and the daughter was hospitalized with severe psychosis, leaving Johan with plenty of bills to pay and two grandchildren to support financially. Thus he found himself flying again, joining up with a couple of small mercenary companies in the early 2000s. With those dissolving due to lack of funds and equipment he made his way to the nascent Shattered Steel, and in a bit of historical irony was once again assigned to training foreign pilots, this time in the rebuilding JSDF. It was there that he met the ex-Ranger and current squid pilot Fuka Nakano.

Johann was rough-spun and somewhat crude, a lover of beer and motor bikes who had nothing but disdainful pity for the poor bastards not smart enough to fly a plane and thus had to fight on land. Fuka was from a very wealthy and well-cultured family, a teetotaler who wouldn't be caught dead on a chopper, as well as being ex-military who in many ways preferred the groundpounding lifestyle. Despite their many differences in personality and the gap in age (or perhaps because of them), the two struck up an odd friendship, and when Fuka was looking to leave the military, it was Johann who suggested she fly for Shattered.

Personal Gear:
R4 Rifle upgraded with Picatinny rail and red dot sight

Personal Aircraft: Sukhoi 35 "Whiskey Jack"

Aircraft modifications: The Whiskey Jack is heavily modified to the point that the total work done and components added approach the value of the plane itself.

• Retrofitted with modern electronic and avionic systems (namely AN/APG-83 AESA) as well as touchpad instruments, and distributed aperture system. Additionally, its HOTAS has been supplemented with direct voice input.
• Vintage Soviet-era helmet mounted display replaced with a modified version of the F35 Helmet-Mounted Display System.
• Capable of carrying a wide range of Western munitions for ease of logistics.
• Has Multifunction Advanced Data Link installed along with EW capabilities
• Carrier-landing capabilities
• Japanese style sea camo,a hold over from his time training the JDSF.

Anything Else:

• Johan and Fuka have been friends for years, despite their differences in age and personality. Mickey is rough-spun and somewhat crude, likes cold beers and cruiser-style motorbikes while hating rich kids and stupidity, the height of which he considers fighting on foot. Fuka is often rather quiet, erudite, from a wealthy family and is former infantry. Despite all of that, they’re able to spend hours hanging around doing nothing.
• The Whiskey Jack's extremely expensive upgrades are due to its service history. Originally purchased by the Indian Air Force and then quickly sold off post=Heavenfall, it found its way into the fleet of Silverbirch Security Services, a nascent PMC of sketchy origin backed in part by Misriah Ironworks. There it gained some of its more advanced systems which had been sourced through means left unquestioned. Upon Silverbirch collapsing in on itself the company was bought out by Le Guivre, a security consortium run by an eccentric billionaire who enjoyed playing soldier. Said billionaire spent lavishly on upgrades to the point of near-foolishness, until he shot himself when his home was attacked by corrupt police seeking to extort him. With no one around to stop him Johann took the Whiskey Jack with him when he went to Shattered Steel.

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

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?"

Splintered / Reflections

Horned Bastard, 202nd of the Ravenous Cohort

"This one assumed that would be the case." HB nodded, glancing over at their assigned suit. "But it is better to check and not need to than it is to not check and discover a flaw in the field.

One faulty reading, one mistimed servo-that was all it would take for disaster. Combat forced improvisation, but every jury-rigged solution ran the risk of sudden failure. HB did not believe in taking unnecessary risks and thus appreciated Feanulde's fastidious nature. Her files indicated that she had been a valuable component of Totality operations, and the regime didn't make those kinds of notes for nothing.

"All systems are operational and functioning as intended." they demurred. "The only potential concern is potential information warfare once in Egypt, but if the communication augments fail, this one has backup systems in place."

They preferred to work on their augments personally, but it was nice to know that there was someone who could help in a pinch.

"This unit is satisfied having you on the team. You have quite the track record."

@Chevaleresse

Splintered / Reflections

Horned Bastard, 202nd of the Ravenous Cohort

"I see."

HB acknowledged the leader's words with seemingly only the bare minimum of attention, eyes fixed on a point somewhere behind him. Nevertheless, they were very aware of the world around them. A pointed ear twitched as the twins made their opinions known, the Totality cog noting their comments but letting them go without remark. What was the use in replying? There was nothing HB could say that would add any value to the conversation, little as there already was.

The Egyptians had not joined the Coalition, for reasons that had made sense at the time. Perhaps one day they would, perhaps one day they wouldn't; it mattered not. Things happened as they happened.

-----------------
They had sat alone in the room for some time, waving away Jacobin's concerned offer of company. The Devil moved when it wanted to and engaged with others when it wished, neither of which it did often. Solitude and stillness suited them when not otherwise occupied, a machine at rest waiting to be switched on. But engines did best when warmed up and HB, while not as fastidious as some of their comrades, did see the wisdom in performing gear checks.

Thus they found their way to the MAS hangar, hooves clacking quietly against the polyurthane coating the floor. Had they wished to they could have moved entirely silently but had learned that people tended to find that unsettling. It was a good thing HB had allowed their presence to be known, for they shared the space with the rather high-strung Feanulde.

"Good evening." they said by way of greeting, dipping their head. "There were no major issues with your suit."

It wasn't a question. Had there been a serious issue, HB assumed the elf would be much more perturbed than she was currently.

@Chevaleresse

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

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."