(I'm really sad our last RP ended so abruptly, so I decided to start another one up, hopefully this one.will be good.)

This is not the Equestria we know. In this Timeline, the Elements of Harmony failed. Nightmare Moon has taken over Equestria, shrouding the world in an Eternal night. But the Demon of the night has not been satisfied with just Equestria, she has used her power and mindless drones to launch attacks all over the globe. With most of the planet under her hoof, only a few pockets of resistance remain. The largest being the Dawn Rebels, led by Twilight Sparkle and Princess Cadence. The rebels must ban together if they want any hope of defeating Empress Nightmare Moon.

(Here's where you'll inform everyone the state of your respectful factions)

HUMAN FEDERATION: Humanity has been completely overrun, every nation falling like dominos to the armies of Nightmare Moon. Almost every human has now been enslaved in the name of the ever growing Empire. All that's left of Humanity's mighty armies are together in a large armada called "The Iron Legion." The fleet is constantly on the move to avoid detection from Nightmare Moon, but the Legionaries fight too the last, knowing they have nothing left to lose. These humans are extremely wary, some even racist against non-humans, but if one can gain their trust, the Legion would be an invaluable ally

752661

(Well, it really never ended. I just got busy, as did Calamity. Then I kept putting it aside, saying I'll do it tomorrow, the next day, and so on... Anyways, glad for a fresh restart. Not to mention, me and Calamity may have gotten carried away with all the MGS references...
So, moving on, I'll be with the Human Federation. )

752661
(I'll take first jab at it, if this needs changing let me know.)

The rumble of thunder echoed across the unruly seas, and the cracks of lightining flashed across the gloomy fleets. The winds blew hard, the waves breaking against the rusting bows of the battered warships. As bone-chilling seaspray drenching those unlucky to on deck with every gust of wind. Yet, few complained about the weather anymore. As deadlier threats lay beyond, below, and above the ocean. No man thought of it, however each of them knew it. Death lingered around them, like a cloud of dread waiting to spread. It hung around every sailor, soldier, and airman, waiting for the chance to strike.

No nation in the Federation, thought that what happened in Equestria, would happen to them so soon. However, the Nightmare's greed wasn't satisfied with Equestria, not by a long shot. She began a global conquest, following in the footsteps of many before her in a quest for global domination. Except, unlike those before her, she's almost accomplished this goal. With only a handful of places across the globe still free from her rule, if only for now...

Months ago, Nightmare Moon and her drone army launched the largest invasion the world had ever seen. Declaring open war against hundreds of nations, all at once. In the beginning, humanity laughed at the Nightmare. As one nation, versus the world usually it's obvious who the winner would be. Yet, the Federation kept losing, and the losses kept mounting. To the point, that a conscription bill was passed, and every able-bodied citizen was required to serve. Sadly, even then it was not enough to stop the nightmare's dark grasp. As one by one, Federation nations burned under her control.

Yet, from the burning ashes of the fallen, a force was forged in these fires of war. This force, became "The Iron Legion." As the remains of the fallen, joined together as one, to fight back against the Empress and her spreading grasp. These warships ranged from aircraft carriers, cruisers, destroyers, frigates, corvettes, submarines and amphibious assault ships. Not to mention battleships, battlecruisers, and carriers from ages past, from mothball fleets nations over. Pressed into service once more, to replace the losses sustained in the early months of the war.

One such ship is the R.E.S. Bonaventure (CVL 22), an aircraft carrier decades past her prime, pressed into service once more. The Majestic-Class Carrier, Even with a heavy refit, landing an aircraft on the Bonaventure's relatively short flight deck was pushing the envelope. Some pilots refused to even land on her, leaving only the brave, and fearless to take on that duty. And that duty, came to the remaining few of 409th Squadron "The Hitmen"...

The rain pattered against the canopy as we sat on the deck. The dark skies occasionally flashing, as lightining cracked brightly with the thunder rolling loudly behind it. In this weather, it was all to easy to get side-swiped by your wingman. In more modern aircraft, this wasn't so much of a worry with all the fancy electronic's they have. However, in these lead sleds, it's an all too real possibility.

"Stalker 1-1, you're second to fly."

"Stalker 1-1, roger." On the other carriers, they had F/A-18's, F-14's, etc. While us, on "The Bonnie" made due with fighter's our father's used. Not that I have much gripe using F-4 Phantom II's, considering it shows we have the skills to kill. It's more of the fact, that these flying bricks are absolute hell to dogfight in. It's like taking a tank to a figure skating competition, it just not gonna work now is it?

"So Archangel, you hear that we're getting upgraded soon?" I chuckled, considering how many times I've heard that bullshit, I would be a millionaire by now.

"Yeah, I have Hawkin's. And I'm telling you, it's absolute crap. The last time they said that, all we got we're these "updated" Phantom's. Trust me, we'll be lucky if we get anything made in the last century." John Hawkin's, "Snipes" is my WSO in our 'Aluminum Cloud'. Responsible for our weapon systems aboard this beast. And one of my closer friends, one of the few that remain anyway..

"Alright sir, need you to run the drill, use'em n' check'em." I nodded, my hand automatically carrying out the all to familiar order.

"We all good back there Snipes? Stabs n' slats working smoothly?"

"All good Lynch, good movement left and right."

"Good, good, bring the weapons online and activate the HMD." Within seconds, my visor came to life as lettering and numbers flooded the screen, only to disappear with seconds to it's original state. Except now showing my flight HUD.

"All clear up here, test the weapons Snipes." Our F-4's were lucky enough to be modernized the last time we were in port. Not to mention a new paint scheme, one that revolved around our speciality..

"Weapons are good, cannon spun n' run, missile system tracking, what about the flare's?" whithin seconds, a resounding *click-tunk* graced my ears. "Fuckin-right, weapons and countermeasures good-to-go."

"Alright, we're cocked n' locked and ready to rock. All set in the bitch-seat?"

"Hey, fuck you!"

"I'll take that as a yes, hold onto your panties cause here we go." Now comes the fun part. I eased the throttle forward, the shooter outside snapped a salute to us before Stalker 1-3 launched off the catapult. With full-thrust set, I held onto the rail.

"Pulley tension on"

Time to dance with the angel's..

The shooter dropped down, before raising his arm and putting his hand into the all familiar shape.. *CHU-THWWWUUOOSH!* It was something you never really get used to, the feeling of rapid acceleration by steam catapult, it's surely something alright. I brought us up, away from the cold seas and into the shitty skies.

"Great shot. Engines good, flight surface's are good." I raised the gear, and watched the speed as I brought us around the carrier. Speed resting steady at 375 Knots, the altitude steady.

"Stalker 1-1, this Stalker 1-3 levelling off on your starboard." I glanced over, watching my wingman bring his lumbering F-4 alongside gracefully. Before snugglling up beside me, under my wing.

"Roger 1-3." Now we waited for the all too familiar order's, CAP around the fleet. Shoot-down on drones authorized, yadi-yadi-yada it's the same everyday.. But I wouldn't trade it for the world, at least until we get better aircraft. Dogfighting in a lead bathtub isn't good for your health, it really isn't. Unless you prefer living at the bottom of the sea for a few thousand years, then go right ahead.

"Stalker 1-1, this is Knight 1-2, contact twelve miles. Flight of two, angels one. Climbing off the deck, northwest of your position." Well Lord love a duck, things just got interesting..

(Again, if this isn't good enough, let me know)

752805>>752661

Damn right I got busy.

753772

"Даже если костер мега-заклинания упал, я не буду гореть. Даже если солнечная мощь Celestia угрожал, я не буду раздавлен..." Orion hummed quietly to herself as her communications display winked back at her.

"Bloody hell... These are some slippery ублюдки, huh?" The newest addition to Talon Squadron, Lightning Dust, asked through the radio, several miles behind Orion.

"Well, they're the last of their pathetic race. At least they're putting up a fight." Orion answered. Then, her Radar lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Talon 0-0, flight of two bogeys, angels one two, northeast." The Adapted Aircraft Hivemind, or AAH for short, squawked in the back of Orion's helmet. She turned to look in the direction, and sure enough, two red diamonds appeared.

"What? This is supposed to be an empty sector... Talon 0-0 to Talon 0-4. Arm guns and climb to angels nine." Orion was pretty wary. Those humans... They fight like the devil herself...

The engines roared as the two Su-47's kissed goodbye to the spray from the sea.

"Warning, twelve... Correction... one hundred seabound Bogeys detected. Identity confirmed. IRON LEGION DETECTED." AAH rang hollow in her ears. Orion felt her heart pounding. She could almost feel the enormous amount of heat generated from infrared detectors on her plane now, painting her a red target.

"We're out-gunned if we go any further." Lightning whispered in reverent awe as the cloud layer swirled slightly to show the never-ending sight of ships, before covering them up again.

"No shit."

Assuming that Nightmare Moon would have allowed a few pilots loyal to her be of their own free will, but connected using the AAH.

754124>>753772
(All sounds good so far , and I know how we all got busy...)

The rain just kept pouring down, seeming to add an even worse atmosphere too the already dreary environment.
It was here in the drenching storm that Riley stood, on the deck of the Battleship U.S.S Valient. Moving into and out of storm systems was something that the Legion had to do often, as it made it much harder for the Empire to track their movements, but it wasn't something that the Sailors or Marines particularly enjoyed.
And to think I actually use to enjoy the night... Riley thought. He silently cursed Nightmare Moon for what was probably the dozenth time that day.
The memory was still fresh in his mind... The Night the sun had set and had never risen back up again...
"Uh, Colonel?"
Riley turned too see a young sailor standing next too him. He was still getting use too his new rank. He had only been a Lieutenant at the time of the invasion, but after there had been so many killed and missing, he had been quickly bumped up the ranks simply because he was a survivor.
"What is it Ensign?"
"We have a report for you sir. And Captain Phoenix has also arrived as you requested."
"Good, show me."
The walked into the interior of the battleship, feeling a blast of heat that separated the ship from the freezing air outside.
"You said you had a report?"
"Yes sir. We think we spotted a heat spike on the sensors."
"Drones?"
"We don't think so. It vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. It could just be a glitch, this storm is wreaking havoc on our sensors."
Riley rubbed my temples in irritation.
"Ensign, why are you telling me this? I'm not in Command of Air Assets." He asked. The Ensign bit his lower lip.
"The Captain and Commander are preoccupied sir, we thought it would be best to bring this too you."
"Alright alright," Riley said, sighing. "Send it too the rest of the fleet. We don't want to take any risks. We need to get moving soon anyway, we've been in this sector too long."
"Should I... send that advisement too the Admirals?"
"Go ahead, but they never listen to me anyway. Where's Phoenix?"
"Right here pal." Riley turned to see the Recon Soldier. "How's Command life been treating you?"
"It's like slamming my head against a steel bulkhead, but much less productive." Riley answered rolling his eyes.
"I bet. You said you had a mission for me?"
"I do. Come over here." The Colonel led his friend too a map of the world. "I don't trust anyone else with this. I need you to do a recon mission right here."
Phoenix's eyes widened in shock.
"That's in the middle of Equestria! The heart of the Empire's power!"
"I know. I'm not saying it will be easy. But we need to know what's going on over there, maybe find a weakness."
"I don't know..."
"James, if you don't think you can do this-"
"No, I'll do it." Phoenix said. "Just tell me how I get there."
~~~
R.E.S. Endurance

"I'm just saying Tals," Cole said, maneuvering through the Aircraft Carrier's crowded hull. "We could modify our own planes! Even if Command won't do it, I'm sure we could find the parts somewhe-"
"Cole, just stop." Talisman said, obviously not amused. "We're in the middle of the Maker-Forsaken ocean, where the hell would we find parts?"
"We could-"
"And we're not going to steal from other wings."
"Alright... Alright...."
"Now hurry up, we need to our planes."
"Why do they need us anyway? Isn't Tyler already in the sky dealing with drones?"
"The radar boys thought they picked something up that isn't a drone. They want us to do a quick flyby to make sure."
"Fine, anything to get me off this boat..."
The Pair approached their F/A-18's, the planes having been issued to the land-based pilots after the massive evacuation from Gracemeria.
Cole settled into his fighter, taking a look of the Rogue Squadron symbol he still kept in his cockpit.
I failed them, I failed all of them...
He shook away the thought, and powered up his craft
"Garuda Two, requesting clearance for takeoff."
"Clearance granted. The skies are yours, happy hunting Garudas."

754830>>754124

The constant dull whine of the General-Electric turbojets eased Archangel's nerves somewhat. He was used to flying CF-18's and CF-35's when the war began, but got hand-me-downs from Usean reserve's when the Emmerian Navy hastily restarted its light-carrier program. By turning the museum ship Bonaventure, into a fighting ship once more. Although it'd be nice to fly Hornet's on Bonnie, they were just to large for the small carrier's hanger deck. Making Phantoms the only real aircraft for use, until they got transfered to a larger ship.. which was even more unlikely. However, the Phantom's became somewhat of a Legion icon. Being only 'The Bonnie' used the flying trashbins these days.

Sharp lightining flashed across his nose, returning his thoughts to the current task.. which he was failing thanks to the lead sleds they were using.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck, we're about to lose them!" Snarled Cougar, Archangel's wingman since before the war. They're also veteran's of "Black Monday", the invasion of Emmeria. Both snagging the first kills of the war on the Federation.

"Hold on.. just..a..bit...closer..." Archangel grunted, disliking the fact that two bandits were just out of his deadly reach..

"..Wait, Archangel we've got tone, fire when ready!" Hawk called, his eyes glued to his scope.

"Stalker 1-1, Fox Three!" within a heartbeat, two AMRAAM's leapt from their racks, before rocketing off towards one of the fleeing bandits. Archangel smiled, knowing at least he sent a message.

"Lost'em, they're gone LCol. We've a fifty-fifty chance those missiles even reach, let alone hit their mark." Said Hawkin's

"Doesn't matter, they'll be back. Either by drone or manned craft.. you can count on that.." Arch spoke, his voice now ice-cold. With the amount of war the squadron had seen, there was no doubt in the enemies determination. They were fierce, yet they had nothing on the Emmerian Night-Fighter's of the 409th. Considering Emmeria was the first nation to fall under Nightmare's grasp, after Equestria.

"99 Stalkers, dis-engage from fleeing bandits. Change heading to One-Five-Five, commence aerial patrol pattern Alpha-Tango-Charlie-Seven. Maintain angels nine, no speed restrictions. Bonaventure out." Archangel sighed, knowing now came another patrol. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling of something big on the horizon.. something, very big.

"Solid copy Bonnie, You heard mother, lets do this.." Archangel ordered, rolling the lumbering Phantom II over to port, his wingman following close behind.

Damn I'm rusty, been awhile since I've done third person.

755246
(Sorry, U.S.S. Stands for Usean States Ship, should have clarified. Though if we want, we can throw in real world nations)

755336
*Stare's blankly into space, the overwhelming feeling of stupidty rushing over.*
I honestly can't believe I didn't notice that, whelp, feel like a dumbass now. Hold on a minute, I'll fix it in a jiff.
*fixed*

752661>>753772>>754124

Northern's troubled sleep was interrupted the sound of thunder resonating through his ship. He jolted up in his bunk, his tired brain already convincing him they were sinking beneath the cold waves. A quick double take proved his proved his previous train of thought a bust, however.

The stormy weather of the night was taking its toll on the small reconnaissance fleet of the Dawn Rebels. Its few ships roughly plowed through the trough, which pushed back with almost equal vigor, almost as if trying to warn them of some coming danger.

Northern grunted and ruffled his mane, already knowing he wasn't going back to sleep before his sortie. He sat up and made his way to the officer's room. When he arrived inside, several officers sat talking at the central table. Northern quickly recognized them all and let a small smirk slip.

"Well, if it isn't Northern, the mercenary sleeping beauty." One of them, a pegasus mare named Daybreak, quipped at him. Northern gave her a dismissive hoof and levitated two mugs of coffee off of the cupboard. He had barely slept a wink and was not in the mood for a verbal sparring. He quickly gulped down one cup before taking an empty seat.

"You know I'm retired from that. No need for the mercenary bullshit now." Northern replied.

When the invasion first started, work was plentiful and well-paying and Northern traveled the world, doing jobs for well over a dozen countries. Then, they started to fall. One by one, jobs started to dry up and the fight slowly started to get closer and closer to home. Soon, even his beloved Yuktobania found itself in the sights of the Empress. Northern and his fellow pilots had fought bravely for their motherland, but the swarms wore down the country, cutting massive swaths through the pilots and ground troops fighting for their country. Eventually, Yuktobania fell.

Northern had barely escaped with his own life, managing to lose everyone he ever bothered to care about. His family had been massacred and all squadrons he served with were full of K.I.A. pilots. After escaping with a handful of other soldiers, he quickly joined the Dawn Rebels, swearing vengeance against the swarms that robbed him of everything.

"Once a merc, always a merc." Another one, a earth pony stallion named Florence who was also his RIO, quickly rebutted with a chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah keep that up and I'll show you how mercs get rid of their competition." Northern replied back.

"Whatever you say."

The group continued to exchange chatter, trying to keep their minds off of the tragedy of their whole situation. Almost too quickly, the announcement for their briefing came too quickly. With a unanimous sigh, they all ambled off to the briefing room.

Northern looked at the depressing sky above him, already itching to get back into the sky. He had a lot to pay back to Nightmare Moon, one bogey at a time. He looked down to the deck of his carrier, looking a the myriad collection of aircraft collected on the deck. F-14's, Rafale M's, Su-33's, and F-18's sat about, representing the amount of diversity involved in even this small force.

He looked over to his own craft, an F-14D. His signature black and green paint scheme adorned it, with a curled sea serpent on it, representing his namesake, Zmerya or 'Snake'. A Su-33 in an identical paint scheme sat next to it, and he quietly wondered who would be assigned to him today.

He and his other pilots clambered to their planes, each hurriedly trying to get out of the chilling rain. Northern quickly readjusted himself to the spacious cockpit of the Super Tomcat, as Florence climbed into the back. Hearing the clear from Florence, he lowered the canopy around them.

"You nice and tight back there?" Hearing a annoyed grunt in his headset, Northern continued, "Thank you for choosing Northern airways, hope you enjoy your flight." Another voice made itself known after he finished his sentence.

Zmerya 1, you're up next for takeoff. Get mounted and launch.

Northern taxied his brick to the catapult, waiting patiently as he was hooked up to the shuttle. He always hated taking off of steam catapults, but some dumbass designers apparently decided that they were necessary on their craft, instead of putting on an incline for ramped take-offs like almost every other navy in the world. Putting his complaints in the back of his mind, Northern braced for launch.

The unicorn soon found himself high in the sky, feeling the raw power of the two F110 turbofans behind him. He watched as his aircraft was swallowed up in the dark skies, half-wondering what awaited them in the dark around them.

"This is Zmerya 1, we're clear. Waiting for orders."

754124>>755364>>756238
"This is Garuda Two, reporting successful launch." Cole said.
"Nice work. Form up on my wing." Talisman instructed. The two Hornets moved into formation, their rockets lighting up the eternally dark sky. Cole switched to the private frequency.
"Can you here me?"
"Loud and clear. Looks like this storm isn't messing everything up at east."
The pair started toward their objective a small patch of sky that command wanted paroled.
"Maker, I am so sick of looking at water..." Talisman mumbled.
"I know what you mean." Cole replied sympathetically. "But we have to stay moving, land isn't safe anymore for us."
"So what? Are we just going to keep like this forever? How long will the supplies last us? A year? Five years? Sooner or later, we'll have to stand and fight!"
"If you feel so strongly about this, why don't you bring it up with your boyfriend, Colonel Dumbass?" Cole teased.
"Colonel Davis is NOT my boyfriend." Talisman growled.
"Maybe not, but he still does damn near EVERYTHING you ask of him."
"That's not true..."
"Come on, you have a Colonel that will do whatever the hell you want and you fucking know it too!"
"Just shut up, we're almost to the patrol area."

756535>>756238>>755246

"Talon 0-0, I have an active missile lock." Lightning rushed as her plane dived, spitting flares and chaff.

"Warning, missile. Identified as A-M-R-A-A-M." AAH droned.

Orion watched the missile turn inwards as the SU-47 continued on a perpendicular course. It homed, turned... And...

Struck.

"Talon 0-4, say status?!?" The Su-47 did a roll, coughing red fire and shrapnel.

"Hollee crap that hurt. But I can make it back to base." The plane tightened out, trailing fumes.

"Okay... AAH, plot fastest route back to nearest repair base." Orion watched the little icon tick over.

"Course plotted." The HUD refreshed, as a green line shot out over the sea.

"Warning, two bandits detected. Recommend staying below angels four to avoid radar." Two F/A 18's soared past overhead as the stealthy Su-47's stayed quiet. All of a sudden, Lightning felt her engine belch.

A fifteen foot long fire plume lit up the sea as the fuel injection valve failed. A redundant valve sprang into action, but not before allowing the entire Iron Legion know where the two jets were.

Orion saw the threat level spike as the two F/A 18's changed course.

"Oh crap..." She muttered. This was supposed to be a simple recon mission! I've only got a gun to work with, one HARM and two camera pods. This is gonna be close.

"Talon 0-0 to Talon 0-4, light afterburners and run like hell. I'll catch up." She watched the black plane waggle it's wings once, before streaking off.

Okay then... Let's dance. Orion tapped the holographic display to select her HARM.

"Gonna just put you... In HARM's way." She launched the Fire-and-Forget missile towards the lead F/A 18.

Lightning twitched uncomfortably in her seat. She had just left her superior to fight against overwhelming forces, and was running with her tail between her legs.

She didn't notice the lone F-14 slotting itself behind her jet, at a higher altitude, and stalking her until it was too late.

756608
(Dammit, beat me to the punch! By seven minutes)

756613

(Yep, I'm known for doing that.)

756608>>756613
"We've arrived. Beginning sweep" Talisman said.
"I got nothing Tals," Cole mumbled. "My money is on the Storm messing with sensors."
"No argument here, it's shot our-"
The pair stopped as a blip suddenly appeared on their radar.
Behind them.
"At our Six!" Talisman yelled. The two humans whipped the fighters around, preparing to attack their unwanted guests.
"Is that an SU-47?!"
"Shit! That's no drone! And there's more than one! Garuda One to Fleet, we've been discovered, I repeat, we've been found!"
Cole kicked in his thrusters, Talisman taking the lead.
"Garuda One engaging!"
"Garuda Two engaging!"
Before either craft could make the first move, one of the Imperial craft fired.
"Warning! Incoming missile!"
The pair rolled away in opposite directions, the missile missing Talisman's craft by a handful of meters.
"Alright, let's play it like that you equine bitch." She growled. She decelerated slightly, bringing up her HUD
"Radar lock!" She said. "Garuda One, Fox Two!"

756620

Orion glanced about in certain despair as her only HARM missed by inches.

The human's Infrared missile splashed and exploded harmlessly under the waves as Orion maneuvered just above the water, creating twin jets of disturbed seawater behind her. She gunned the accelerators, making sure that the two were firmly held on her tail.

Just five minutes of playing, then I get real and leave two oil splotches on the surface... Orion thought as another missile was quickly evaded using the last of her counter-measures.

"Warning, missile barrage inbound." About ten red stars appeared into her visor. Strapped for ideas, Orion tried to evade the missiles.

"Warning, identified. Magnetic Pulse missiles." Magnetic Pulse? Damn, those were 100% accurate and deadly. They followed the magnetic signature of the target craft, and could not be fooled.

"Okay then, time for some fancy maneuvering." Orion closed her eyes and allowed it.

The black streaks crept slowly up her appendages, infecting the host. She gasped lightly as the virus reached her thought processes, but when she opened her eyes, everything was in slow motion.

In what would be taught to the cadets later as the "Pinwheel", she twitched the control rod slightly, and then rammed it, whilst torquing the Throttle. This caused her Su-47 to turn about 180 degrees and fly backwards. The engines strained from the sudden changes, but it was well within the stress of the frame.

The stars approached. One by one, Orion targeted them, before letting loose on her guns. The Depleted Uranium rounds sparkled off the hides of the missiles, before detonating in the fuel tanks.

The missiles exploded. The Su-47 streaked across the ocean.

"Okay then... NOW FOR YOU." She targeted the two F/A 18's. Suddenly...

"Talon 0-0, Talon 0-4. Receiving heavy flak! Requesting help! Please!" Orion gasped and the virus broke contact.

"Crap... I'm coming!" She turned around and burnt her afterburners, with the two F/A 18's in hot pursuit.

(Added new talent, calling it the Nightmare, where all senses are enhanced.)

756647>>756620>>756238

R.E.N. Bonaventure

Despite the constant shrouding darkness, and the rough tumbling seas. The ship stayed very alive during all hours of the constant night. For a warship her age, she required the all-round attention. From the constant, round-the-clock maintenance across the ship. To the buzzing hanger, as the mechanic's gutted the hanger queen's for spare parts. Then lastly, came the most busy place aboard the ship.

The Combat-Information-Center.

The CIC also shared its small space with Primary Flight Control, meaning the extremely cramped space seemed to be always in a constant state of controlled chaos.

"Felix 2-1, turn heading one-two-two, maintain angels five..."
"Elevator one is bringing up more ordinance now..."
"Well scrounge something in engineering, those greedy lil' fucks seem to have everything.."
"Transfer 8000 pounds of JP-8 to the starboard tanks, that should even out the list to port.."

In the center of it all, admist the dozens of computers, cables, radios, and digital equipment. Was a digital mapboard, constantly updating positions of ships, boats, and aircraft darted across the screen. What garnered attention, was a contact that kept appearing, then disappearing from radar. And that agitated Captain Rossdale, commander of the Bonaventure.

Rossdale was well liked, and respected by the crew. Not to mention, it was hard to piss him off, compared to most Captains and senior commanders in the fleet. Yet, there were only two sure-fire ways to agitate him, and foul his mood for the day.

Not having his coffee made n' ready, and not knowing something that kept his mind wandering. The first was simple enough, any enlisted man knows a senior officer with coffee, is a happy senior officer. The second, that was quite harder. Currently it was being fueled by a large group of unknows appearing, then diappearing from sensors to the east. The weather making it all but impossible to pinpoint an exact location, or to identify it.

"Who's on station currently from our pool?" Rossdale asked, and from the sea of flesh a young man. No older than twenty, holding a clipboard with shoulder boards indicating his rank of Lieutenant-Commander. Normally, a man holding his rank would be far older. However with the losses sustained, quality men with adequate training were hard pressed to find.

"W-well, two from the 409th 'Hitman', those being Stalker 1-1, and Stalker 1-3."

"Stalker 1-1? I thought Commander Bannon was out-of-action, currently in a coma?" Rossdale questioned.

"Actually, uh, Lynch filled in his place, and the man knows his stuff.. however he seems... quite bothered as of late." Added the greenhorn L-C, Rossdale sighed, knowing what he meant.

"Yes, duly noted... Moving on, who else?"

"The other two are VFA-155 'Eagles', with Claw's 2-1 through 2-5 are currently on CAP. And VFA-34 'Blue Blasters' with Jokers 3-1, 3-3, and 3-5 airborne." The LC finished, Rossdale nodded absently as he watched two F/A-18's labeled VFA-99 approach the unknown/un-identified group/blip. With the F-4's from the 409th tailing behind them, as their patrol line intersected this unknown. He was going give an order, But the paniced voice of a pilot, drowned out every soul in that room.

"Garuda One to Fleet, we've been discovered, I repeat, we've been found!"

For the first time in weeks, silence ruled over the CIC.. if only for a few seconds, until the dreaded words echoed through the ships intercom's.

"General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battlestations!"

The voices of dozens yelled out in a frenzy of orders and shouts. Rossdale pulled the greenhorn close to him, just so he could hear his own orders.

"GET ME COMMAND NOW!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My NVG's did little to aid my sight, with the lightining flashes blinding us when the white lightin' streaked across the canopy. If anything, I'd fly better without the goggles, except it became regs to wear them after 'The Last Sunset'. To think, almost everyone in the Legion hated the eternal darkness. Except for a select few, like myself who actually enjoyed it. Mostly for the starry scenery constantly above, depending on the weather though.. When I'm off the clock, I find myself at the rails staring skyward. Letting the beautiful sight take me away from the worlds problems, if only for a moment...

"Hey Lynch, I've friendlies on the scope. Twelve o'clock, angels six, looks like Garuda.." Hawkin's stated. I smiled a bit, been a while since I've last heard from'em.. Ah fuck it, let's do it

"Pyle, switch to frequency 99.3 and try to refrain from chatting.. I'd rather not piss off the iron lady."

"Hahaha, really? Fine, give me a moment Arch." With that, I followed my wingman into the private channel of Garuda team.. stumbling onto an overly familiar subject.

"....strongly about this, why don't you bring it up with your boyfriend, Colonel Dumbass?" Cole teased.

"Colonel Davis is NOT my boyfriend." Talisman growled.

"Maybe not, but he still does damn near EVERYTHING you ask of him."

"That's not true..."

"Come on, you have a Colonel that will do whatever the hell you want and you fucking know it too!"

"Just shut up, we're almost to the patrol area."

I could sense the giggling from Pyle, one of his favorite pastimes was teasing the poor girl about Davis. I myself never could tell if she was into the guy, but it seems by her reaction, I have an answer.. Teasing will commence, at the earli-

"Oh Wreallwy Tally-wally? What about those times you wanted Ol' Daverino to carry you in his big, strong, muscly arms? To shower you in kissy-wissy's and rubby-wubby all over you? Or how about those love letters, you still do those right?" Pyle said, acting all cutesy-wootsey while struggling not to laugh, yet failing miserably. Never more in my life, did I want to kill my wingman.. Okay, this takes a close second to what he did before hand.. But...

"PYLE YOU MOTHERFUCKING DUMBASS, THEY CAN HEAR US!"

His laughter exploded, while I awaiting the intense verbal assault from Talisman...
Except it never came... they just kept talking like we were...

Oh fuck me, I forgot to switch-over to actually SPEAK with them... Goddammit

"Oh man, you are way to easy! That was fucking brilliant, really it was." Pyle said, calming down enough to at least understandable. I could feel my face burning with stupidity as Hawkin's now struggled not to laugh. Alright, time to go onto the offensive..

"Oh Pyle, the cliche department called. They want their generic asshole, shrimp-dicked wingman back.. Along with a new set of bedsheets..." The roaring laughter of Pyle's died in a heartbeat.

"Ouch a lowblow, and I said I was sorry 'bout that!"

"Yeah? Well sorry didn't get the fucking cumstains and pussy-juice out of my fucking bedsheets, dickwad! Not to mention the case of Screech you drank with that ugly horse of a woman you called 'pretty'!" I barked back.

"She wasn't THAT ugly!.. Ye-yeah, okay maybe she was, but still, I got puss-say! Which you can't say shit about son! The last time you've seen, let alone likely have had pussy was two years ago limp-dick!"

"Oh fuck you Pyle, unlike you I'm not a sex-obsessed machine fucking anything with a hot pussy! Including the Admirals dog, and saying you were piss drunk at the time doesn't change the fact that you still fucked it!" A strange, awkward silence fell upon us as we flew. As I realized I brought up 'The Night of Fails' again... Fuck.

*Cough* "Uh..um...um..Shit." I mumbled, but before he could chew my ass out from here to yesteryear. The gods of fortune decided to spare me this fire, however toss me into another.

"...At our Six!" Talisman yelled.

"Is that an SU-47?!"

"Shit! That's no drone! And there's more than one! Garuda One to Fleet, we've been discovered, I repeat, we've been found!"

"Garuda One engaging!"

"Garuda Two engaging!"

"Oh damn, where are they?" Pyle questioned, I had the same as well.

"They're on our nine now. Currently tailing after that 47." Hawkin's reported.

"They'll never catch'em, they're just too slow."

"However, we have a chance.. Damn do I love being faster than a hornet. Stalker 1-1 Engaging!" I banked over hard, shoving the throttles to maximum power. The Phantom may be over half a century old, but she held one advantage, even to this day.

And that, was raw speed.

The Hornet's could only manage around 1.8 Mach, while the 47's was somewhere between 2.1 and 2.5 Mach. And us? We fit into the low scale of the SU-47, able to reach around 2.3 if we really punched it. Like now..

"YIPPY-KI-YAY MOTHERFUCKERS! Stalker 1-3 Engaging!" With that, Pyle zipped past on his way to claim another victory.. However, thats a snowballs chance in hell. This ones mine.

Watch out, Watch out! Oh the dark Angel's of Death, hath called your name. Now, it's time to pay!

756647>>756238>>755364
"What the hell was that?!" Cole demanded.
"That fucking furball just shot our Mag pulses out of the sky!" Talisman shouted. "And it looks like our friend is coming back for us!"
Right as she said it, the plane changed course, moving to most likely help their friend.
"Stay on them!" Cole shouted, kicking in his own afterburners.
"Dammit! It's too fast!"
"Garuda Wing too Fleet, hostile craft are still fleeing, we need support!"
"Solid copy Garuda, we're chopping more intercept craft to assist. And we're letting them have it with all our fire, they'll be ripped to shreds."
~~~
Dawn Rebel Recon Fleet
"If we cut across the ocean here, we could cover more area-"
"Lieutenant, you only have your position because of your Celestia-damned education." The Captain told Storm. "When we need a lecture on Ancient history, we'll call you. But let us handle the sailing."
"Of course, that's why you're the Captain." Storm Chaser replied, a fake smile on his face. He waited for his superior to leave, then he muttered. "One of the worst Captain's in the entire Dawn Rebel force..."
He trotted back to his room, running over the files he had been given.
"I don't even know why Princess Cadence sent me with the Recon Fleet, this is getting us absolutely no intelligence on the Empire..."

757298>>757285>>756647

Despite the despicable weather around him, Northern continued his holding pattern above the Dawn Rebels fleet. It was simply a regular patrol, so he was in a hurry as he waited for his wingman to take off. It was only a few short minutes before he watched the familiar Su-33 take off of the deck.

"This is Zmerya 2, I'm clear." He recognized the voice of Enyala, a griffon who fled her country after the Nightmare invaded. He had flown with her before and knew she was a solid pilot, if a bit reckless.

"Alright, form up on me 2. Just a standard today."

"Aw, I was hoping for a little action today."

"You might just get your wish 2. Come on, let's go." Northern looked down at his RADAR again, taking note on the irregular signatures he was getting all across it. He looked at the closest one, a faint reading not even a few miles away from their current position. As the pair moved, he noticed how it was speeding towards a known Nightmare position.

"Hey Enyala, you gettin' this signature below us?" He asked her wondering if his RADAR was acting up again. The F-14D he was flying wasn't new craft and he didn't feel like chasing ghosts at the moment.

"Nah, mine's clean. You know these Sukhois don't have the best equipment."

"Alright then. Cover me, I going in for a peak." Northern pushed down on his stick, increasing the throttle of his craft as he did so. It would only be a minute before he caught up to the unknown.

"Hey Northern, I don't know about you, but that ocean looks awful cold just to be diving down at." Florence reported through his comm.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, it's just a quick dive."

Northern scanned the rough beneath him, keeping a keen eye for any movement that might cross in front of him. It was almost a shadow as it flew right in front of his nose, but he caught it. He recognized the shape as a Su-47, his old personal craft.

"Hey 2, I got something." He reported to his wingmate above. He slotted behind the craft, arming the XLAA Phoenixes located right beneath him. Hearing the familiar beep tone as he held it, he waited for a moment before it became a solid tone.

"Northern, we a lock on target," Florence confirmed behind him.

"Fox 3, Fox 3." Twin streaks of light emerged from under his craft's nose as he depressed the trigger as he unleashed his deadly barrage. At the same time, Northern kicked on his afterburners, attempting to close the gap between him and his new-found prey.

757435>>757298>>756647

"Sir, I have the bandit on the RWR, tracking now."

"Understood, keep an eye on our bandit. RADAR seems to be getting muddled by the storm," I said. The weather had deteriorated in the past few minutes, forcing us to rely on our equipment. Now, that's easier said than done in a F/A-18 or something similar. However, in the Phantom? You're better off flying by eyes and ears. Considering most, if not all the electronics were at least over twenty years old, in this antiquated cockpit.

But, none of that really mattered now. The RWR signal was the same as before, meaning our 'guests' had indeed returned, or never really left.. Doesn't matter either way, I'll gladly end their lives. It's the least I could do for them, sparing them from the agony of defeat later.

"Flight lead, were coming up on Garuda, you want me to hail them?" asked Cougar, as two blobs of burning light came into view just ahead of us.

"Yeah, hail'em and let them know," I ordered.

"Garuda Wing, you whined and we came. As Archangel n' Cougar come to do what you can't seemingly do by yourselfs-"

"Knock it off Pyle, before I shove a 'winder up your ass.. Damn your hopeless-"

"HEY!"

"Anyways! Stalker Wing on your tail and ready to assist." within a heartbeat, we roared past them, closing the distance between us and the bandit even more.

"Well, looky here! It seems grandpa's rust-bucket cadillac's have answered the call, try not to blow the motor now!" Joked Cole, chuckling softly.

"Oh really? Then why are we-"

"Cougar, STFU before I make you. The same applies to you too Cole. Talisman, be ready to be 'Johnny on the Spot' with support, clear?"

"Understood Sir, and it's good to fly with you again Tyler."

"Same here, been far too-" Before I could continue, Hawkin's voice chirped in.

"Colonel, enemy's in weapons range, -"The beep-tone of the tracking system beeped for a few seconds, until the tone became solid."- You've got tone, fire when ready!" I grinned as the words left my mouth. My fingers snapping onto the trigger.

"Stalker 1-1, Fox one, times two." Two Sparrow's blasted from their mounts, rocketing forward towards their fleeing target. Carrying their payloads of death, while providing false light to the everlasting darkness.

"Hello, I'll be your server this evening. Here's an appetizer, Stalker 1-3 Fox two." Two more missiles streaked across the skies, tailing in behind the Sparrows already enroute towards the shifty bandit.

757298>>757298>>758775

Orion glanced at her Radar. Ahead of her, the two XLAA missiles were highlighted. Behind her, four Sparrows.

"Perfect." Orion glared at the missiles ahead of her. "Time for a little sideswipe."

She dragged the missiles closer to the ones threatening her pilot, swooping just ahead of the slowing XLAA's.

"Bye." The four missiles slammed into the two spent XLAA's, consuming each other in a fireball.

"Thanks, Talon 0-0. Counting four... Correction six, Bandits. Two F/A 18's, two F 4's, one F 14 and one SU 33." Lightning radioed, flying straight and narrow.

"Chances of success: 0.3%" AAH displayed the ratio.

That's too much... Even for me. Orion thought.

"Well, Talon 0-4. How much time do you need to run far enough to get into Friendly air?"

"Five, six minutes? Why?"

Orion looked out her cockpit at the contrails. "I'm gonna distract them. You run like hell..."

"Are you fucking crazy? They'll rip you apart befor..." Orion silenced the mare.

"You have no choice." Orion ejected her camera data. "You HAVE to complete the mission. This will probably be my last order to you."

"You dirtbag..."

"In case I get shot down, or captured, tell Moon that Rocker is in lead now. You don't need to mount no rescue for me, I don''t think these guys are going to be specifically happy."

"..."

"Clear?"

".... Oorah to ashes. Happy hunting."

Orion did a sweeping turn, to reduce the distance between her and the six planes. "Go." Lightning hit the afterburners and dropped flares.

The Su-47 flew straight towards the enemy, barely passing meters between them, signifying the will to duel.

"Come on, you basket cases, gun for me..." Orion watched the threat meter go dark as it became to high to measure. Immediately, six stars approached.

Helpful...

Orion dragged her gun reticule above the F 14, only to be distracted by the SU 33, and got sideswiped by the F/A 18's. She felt the missile hit, but the SU 47 kept flying. The flaming jet soared through the skies in a deadly ballet, occasionally hitting an enemy with DU rounds.

"Fuck, you slippery..." The F/A 18 disappeared as she gunned, wasting bullets.

For about five minutes, this ballet kept on, neither side doing bad damage to the other.

"I'm safe." Orion was distracted by the five second radio call.

Five seconds was all they needed.

The Sparrow slammed into her rear port tailpipe, ripping the engine clean off its housing. For all redundancy Sukhoi built, it can't save a plane from such damage.

"Talon 0-0, hit, going down..." Orion muttered as the black jet spiraled downwards towards the equally black sea. Orion punched the eject tab and was propelled from her dying craft.

Farewell, you have served me well... She watched the shrapnel explode.

The salty water was freaking cold, but Orion didn't notice it.

She was too busy holding her hooves up for the humans in the rescue dingy.

759419 Scratch that ending. Read this one instead: Orion was launched from the dying plane, unfolding her wings. Course, that means she was a bigger target. The bullet entered the wing nub, shattering the fragile structure. Orion was unconscious by the time she hit the cold salty water, and still was when the human rescue/capture team arrived in their dingy. Sorry about the block of text.currently on the go.

759457>>758775>>757435

Riley glared down at the unconscious mare floating in the water in front of him.

"What do we do?" One Marine asked.

"I say we finish the job."

"Not worth the bullet." Another said. "I say we let it drown , or freeze to death."

If it had been any other Officer leading them on the boat, they might have done just that. But Riley was different, he had been raised by his father, an Air Force General, to always respect the enemy, and always obey the rules of war, even when your enemy did not

"No," he said. "We're taking it with us."

"But sir-"

"No buts Corporal, do as I say." He ordered. "Sweep it with the EMP scanner to disrupt any trackers, treat it's wound, then get it in an Interrogation room on the Valiant. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir...."

"Good. If it wakes up and fights back, don't hesitate. But otherwise, I want it ALIVE."

~~~

Storm frowned, looking down at the Radar readings.
"That can't be right..." He muttered to himself while studying the screen. He opened a radio Channel. "Zmerya Flight, do you have a visual on any Naval Ships that aren't part of our fleet?"

(Typing this on phone, I apologize for any glaring/obvious errors.)

Northern and Enyala held position above the human ships, providing additional top cover for the fleet as they brought aboard the enemy pilot. After all, it wasn't everyday that a Nightmare pilot was captured alive. From personal experience, Northern knew most of then to rather die in their planes than eject; obviously this pilot was different.

Enyala was the first to strike up conversation.

"So, what do you think they'll do with it?"

"Probably interrogate it, then send it to some cushy prison behind the lines. Those humans were always soft."

"I know. I'd much rather dissect it and figure out what makes them such damned good pilots. It's almost insane how some of them fly."

Any further conversation was cut of by a human comm being sent in from thr humans

"Zmerya Flight, do you have a visual on any Naval Ships that aren't part of our fleet?"

Northern stared out into the dark and rain around him. All he got in return was just as much black and scattered glimpses of ships. He hailed his other two friends.

"Enyala, Florence, you got anything? I got the usual combination of darkness, rain, and angst."

"Got nuthin' on my end either, lead."

"Nothing but the same old stuff sir. I'm getting a few odd signatures here and there, but it's probably just the storm."

Northern opened up the comm to the RADAR operator again.

"No joy sir. All our pictures are clear, except a few odd signals from the storm. Maintaining holding pattern above the fleet while VIP is secure."

761517
(Storm is a pony, just for future reference.)
"Hmmm..." Storm said shaking his head. "Must be the Swarm, but I could have sworn that...."
He was cut by the sound of the Intercomm.
"All hands move too stations, the fleet is on the move."
~~~
"Talisman," Cole said, frowning. "Who are those other contacts. Not Legion."
"Don't worry, they're friendly. Dawn Rebels, brought a small fleet with them."
"Fucking Equines, do we really need them here?"
"I'm not about to send away our allies."
"I suppose not." Cole rolled his Hornet back toward his Carrier. "Come on, I'm sure we'll be moving soon..."

761002>>761517>>761527>>758775

Beep.

"Hold this bone up."

Beep.

"Saw? Thanks."

Beep. Beep.

"Spike in heart rate. Hope she felt that one."

Beep. Beep.

"She can't wake up now! Sedate her!"

"Wakey wakey, you Nightmare shitehead." Orion spluttered as cold water splashed onto her head, drenching her.

"Ugh..." She muttered as she swung her head. A rough hand forcibly grabbed her face.

"Hello, beauty... My name's not important, and I'll be interrogating you today." She spat at the human. A freaking Corporal.

"Let's start. Why are you here?"

Orion kept silent. She watched the human for his posture. Slack... Easy to irritate...

"No answer? Fine. What does the Nightmare want to do with us?"

Hand wringing... He's acting tough. Should be easy to break...

"Answer me. How did you find us?"

Random eye twitch... Burst in three... two... one...

"YOU'RE A BITCH. ANSWER THE QUESTIONS."

Orion stared into the man's eyes.

"No."

The man flipped his clipboard. He reached for the intercom.

"Colonel Davis? Care to come in and help?"

Lightning strutted out of the Briefing Room.

"How did it go?" Rocker asked as the two other ponies joined her.

"Very well. Nightmare Moon made me Lead Pony."

"You know, still can't believe Orion ran like a girl. She's usually stronger than that..." Eagle whispered.

"Well, she got what she deserved. A Sparrow right up her plot." Lighting smirked.

Can this forum really survive another RP thread?

761716
Riley entered the room, nodding at the Marine.
"That will be all Corporal." He said. The man gave one last scowl at the mare, then exited. Silently, Riley opened the folder in his hands, setting down several photos on the table in front of the Prisoner. The Pictures were of the destruction of Gracemaria, of Coronet, and the bodies of women and children.
The destruction of my home...
"Genocide is a new trick for you ponies, congratulations." He said out loud. He took a seat across from her, keeping his demeanor calm. "My name is Colonel Riley Davis. Today, I'm going to be the only person who is going to be honest with you. And more importantly, I'm the only one here who doesn't want to see you tortured. From what I've seen from the very little non-drones we've captured, the only thing that comes out of said torture is the personal satisfaction of those watching or conducting it. I, on the other hand, believe it to be a waste of time and resources. That, and the fact that I still believe in what Humanity once stood for, and I'm hoping that there's still a flicker in you that still believes in what your species once stood for. Now, here's your options. You can choose to die for Queen and Country, and I assure you there are countless individuals here who would take great pleasure in obliging such a request, as slowly and painfully as possible. Or, you can talk too me. And I swear on my very life that no one will so much as lay a hand on you."

762412>>761716>>761517
Apologies for any mistakes, errors, and general roughness. Did this using a chatpad on xbox..

Meanwhile, aboard the REN Bonaventure..

*Swin-tunk*

"Damnit, are you fuckin' kiddin' me?.."

"Ba-zing baby! Pay up Lynch, I won fair n' square."

"Yeah, yeah, here's your money you sly bastard," I grumbled. Our patrol was cut short due to the hurricane we were currently sailing through. Flying was just possible, but the seas made landing all but impossible. Only the Admiralty can authorize flights in this shit...

Currently, Pyle and I were passing time, playing SpecOps-Darts. Using your combat knife instead of the darts you'd normally use.. Sadly, I 'mis-judged' Pyle, and he was currently kicking my ass... and taking my money... well, I call it money, even though it's just Mil-grade AR rounds. Since paper and metal currency couldn't be replaced, made, or repaired on a warship. Hence, bullets became our "Money".

"How the hell are you that good at this?" I asked, snatching my blade from the corkboard.

"Believe it or not, I learned it in the circus." I couldn't help but give him an incredulous look.

"Really? The circus? Okay, explain this one to me. Because I have the real need to call bullshit." I laid down in my bunk, twirling my blade around as he nibbled on an MRE.

"Yeah seriously, I was.. Well, more or less grew up a part of one back in Emmeria. My mother was a sword-eater, father a circus acrobat. The.. uh, what was it called now? Ah yes the Circus Royale, travelled across and preformed across Emmeria, Equestria, Yuktobania, Usea, and many others."

"Really now? So you've been around huh?"

"Yep, out of all the places I've been, I think I liked Northern Emmeria the most. Ever been to Northumberland County?" I couldn't help but smile at that, it's been awhile since I've really spoken about it.

"Been there? Hell, I grew up there as a kid. Lived on the Miramichi river, fished, hunted, and did my first years of service there... miss the place, had one of the worlds best salmon runs from April to October." I explained, watching him toss his now empty MRE into our makeshift waste bin.

"I hunted there with my dad for a few seasons, beautiful place it is... just hope this war ends soon, like to see it again." My smile faded, knowing the truth about it hurt... badly... before I could say more, a rap on the doorframe earned our attention.

"Glad to see you two are enjoying your downtime, how are thing gentlemen?" Rossdale asked, entering. We both quickly rose, snapping to attention.

"Sir! We're doing well."

"Wonderful, at ease boys, been looking for ya since you two landed. Have a special assignment from the Admiralty."

"What would that be, sir?" Pyle questioned, a look of curiosity and worry held firm on his face.

Captain Rossdale turned around, closing our quarters bulkhead before addressing us. I couldn't shake the bad feeling now welling in my gut.

"Word from above says their planning a reconnaissance operation in the near future, going deep behind enemy lines.. to do recon on the Moon Empire, and search for a weakness, one that may help us win this war. However, the Admiralty has said no to this, because they're unwilling to risk vital intel assets on a whim that likely fail and waste precious resources. But, thats where we come in. They're willing to give this operation the go-ahead, only if aerial recon is done before hand... and you two, have been picked for the task."

"For this mission, you two will fly up the Pun-chu river, straight towards Moon capital of Canterlot, then back again. This mission, will not be an easy one, I can tell you that. You're full briefing will be at 0800 tomorrow morning. Until then, do as you please. Dis-missed gentlemen." Rossdale finished, before turning on his heel, and leaving.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Pyle uttered the phrase we've dubbed our un-offical squadron motto..

"You Gotta Be Shittin' Me.."

761872

Whelp. I'm game to try.

762412>>763624>>761517

The picture only mildly interested Orion. She had seen the destruction first hand.

"The destruction of Coronet and Gracemeria. Yes. I was there." She observed the man. Slight vein bulge... Good control of emotions... Interesting...

"You killed my people."

"Yes. I did. In fact, I was the last few to leave the place burning. I was on BDA. I saw the people burning. I heard their screams and pleads for mercy." Orion looked eye to eye. "I dropped the Balefire bomb."

The man seemed to do something like a restrained bicep curl.

"I bet you hate me right now. I willing to bet my wings that you'll do anything to kill me right now."
She leaned over and steepled her hooves. "Well, mister Davis. You can drop the 'Good human, Bad human' act. I know you people all too well. What do you want from me?"

He's about to explode... Better watch where I tread. He looks like he can smash my throat in before I can even react...

763775
Riley’s blood began to boil, as rage began to spread like fire throughout his body. It took every ounce of his self-control to not draw his revolver and execute the mare.

Calm down, a corpse will do you no good right now. It won’t bring them back.

Outwardly, the only signs of his internal battle was a twitch of his arms and his hands.

“You think I’m playing good human bad human?” He said, his voice laced with icy anger. “Then let me set the record straight. We’re not partners, we’re not allies, and we’re sure as hell not friends. The only thing you’re good for is information, nothing more. If I find you to not be useful in that case, then pull the trigger on you myself. I’m trying to be civil, because I’m the only one here who will show you such a Maker-damned courtesy. If you don’t like it, I’ll be happy to leave and send in a less-than-civil interrogator. Think about that while I ask my questions.” Riley leaned back, his anger now under control.
“Now then, let’s begin. Let’s start simple. The first ruler before the Empress, Princess Solaris or Celestia or whatever, what happened to her when Nightmare gained power? Was she exiled?”
~~~
763624
Phoenix walked through the ship, looking for the pilots who would be proceeding him on the recon mission.

I can handle myself, I don’t need any damned initial recon units going ahead of me.

764992>>763775>>761517

Dinner hour, while the most of the ship enjoyed a 'meal' in the galley, we scrutinized over small mission details. Our table, compared to those around us looked very out of place. While others had assortments of food, beverages, and condiments. Ours had charts, papers, and maps covering every inch of space on the table. Those around us were extremely curious, why the "NARMY Pilots" were mulling over maps, charts, and reports. Instead of having food, and enjoying an hour of somewhat relaxation from the seventeen hour workday.

Normally, we wouldn't be doing things like this in the galley, or during dinner hour. Yet, for the first time since we've been pushed to sea, we we're going inland. And of all things for a reconnaissance mission, so a damned intelligence officer could have more data while in-country. I have nothing against the man, just more for the fact we're going in pretty much fucking blind, and on the direct orders from the Admiralty.

"So.. ordinance wise, what are we carrying?" Cougar mumbled, chewing on the end of a pen.

"Well, you're flying the RF-4E..." I said quietly, his jaw fell at what I said.

"Really? Oh come the fuck on! We'll be flying into the gates of hell, and I'll be unarmed!?" He snapped, slamming the pen against the covered table. He hated the RF-4E for a simple reason. It was intentionally built and manufactured as an export only, un-armed reconnaissance craft for lightweight 'peek-a-boo' flights. It was never intended for risky flights like this..

"Its not like we have a fucking choice, it's the only bird with the equipment on-board." I shot back.

"Can't we modify the F-4D/J's to carry the equipment?"

"No, we couldn't even if we could. The Delta-Juliet's were never designed or built to even carry shit like that. Even if you tried to jury-rig the living hell out of it, the damn thing wouldn't work." Explained Bung, Cougar's RIO. The RIO's had the same reaction as we had, they weren't pleased about it, but it was our duty.

"Don't worry too much, if there's one thing your good at. It's flyin' like a bat outta hell." Hawk chuckled, earning quiet chuckles from us.

"So Archangel, what are we carrying?" Back to business...

"Four AIM-7 Sparrow's, four AIM-9 Sidewinder's, one XM25 gun pod, and two externals." I said, listing them off the clipboard.

"So.. you're pretty much responsible for watching my ass this trip?"

"Uhuh, don't worry Coug's. I've got your back, always. Speaking of which..." I trailed off, flipping through a few pages on the clipboard."- who's lil' rusty with their small arm?"

"I'd say yes to that, haven't used my gun in a while. Could use a few shots to get re-aquainted again."

"As would I, sir." Added Bung.

"Alright then, Bung and Hawk, head to the ordinance master and get some shots in using your irons.. You understand what this is for, correct?"

"..Yessir..." They replied quietly in unison.

I sighed, looking over what we already covered and noted. Just the small, minor things really. Available routes, enemy installations, SAM sites, AA & AAA artillery sites, military bases and outposts.. All of this while enroute to the target, a shitload of miles behind enemy lines on the Pun-chu river valley.. the risk for the inevitable, was damn high. Yet the mission is one we've experienced before, hauling Garuda's ass out of the fire after an similar-style raid at Fort Norton. Except this time, we were in Garuda's shoes... as a reconnaissance flight, with little chance of backup if birdshit strikes the turbofans.

I raised my head from our group, looking across the now empty galley. Holy hell has it been that long? Shit-dammit-cunt we did it again... wait, the hell? I faced a man approaching us, I raised from my seat. He snapped to attention, saluting. I returned it.

"Sir, sorry to disturb you, but can you tell me where I can find the 409th Tactical Fighter Squadron?" The flying fuck is this guy? His unifrom was not Bonnie colours, or style... not even Emmerian Naval dress.

"You're looking at 'em, salior. I'm the active commander of the 409th Tactical Fighter Squadron, Lieutenant-Colonel Tyler Lynch. Now, is there something you wished to tell me? Because I'm in the middle of important pre-mission preparations... Also, pardon my language, but who in sam hell are you? I've never seen you aboard this ship before."

F-4D/J: - An F-4D upgraded (*Jury-rigged*) with F-4J parts, electronics, etc. Although lacking a mounted gun, and other features prominent on advanced, late production F-4's.

"NARMY" : - Naval-Army Aviators, hence NARMY.

761517>>764992>>766061

"Oh, you won't pull a trigger. Not at me." She leaned heavily into the table. "You know I'm too important."

The man only shrugged.

"Let's play a game. For every question I answer satisfactorily, I get to ask a question from you. It's only fair trade. Whelp, about your question. No, she was not killed. At least, I don't think. I think she is being held somewhere, where, I don't really know."

Orion leaned back in her chair. "My turn. What do you know about the elite Nightmare Squadron Talon?"

"Lightning, I think we should CAP the Pun-Chu river..." Eagle asked.

Lightning glanced at her fuel gauge. "Why not? We've got enough fuel to make the air-base there. We're on free rein, so yeah."

766263
Too important eh? That remains too be seen...

Riley leaned back in his seat.

"Alright, I'll play your little game." He thought for a moment. "Nightmare Squadron Talon? All I know is from the reports that went out during the chaos of Coronet and Gracemeria. Your squadron was the spearhead of the air operations, providing air support to ground forces and air supremacy. I've heard some talk from the pilots that your squadron has more than sixty kills, and was responsible for the deaths of Rogue Squadron, some of our best pilots." He narrowed his eyes.

"Now it's my turn again." He said. "When the Mainland was invaded, thousands of humans were taken away, what's happened too them?"
~~~

766061

"I'm Captain James Casper, Callsign Phoenix." The man said. "Former Advanced Reconnaissance Commando, now working on an intel gathering for the Office of Navy Intelligence."

766318>>766263>>761517

"A Spook through n' through Eh? With what's left of the Admiralty, I'd though all of you would be long gone.. guess I was wrong then... Nevertheless Captain, a man of your 'importance' wouldn't be here unless he had a damned good reason to be."

"However first and foremost, Bung, Hawk, go get some weapons practice. Briefing's in the morning, so don't be late. Dis-missed!"

"Sir-yes-sir!" With that, the RIO's both left us. Leaving Cougar, Phoenix, and I standing around our table. The galley now quiet and empty, compared to the usually rumble of noise during dinnertime. The only other noise in the room, came from the softly playing radio. Playing the hit tunes from yesteryear.

"Now then Captain Casper, what is it that you wished to discuss?"

I really need to get back on a normal sleep schedule again, damned Civ V keeping me up late...

*American's take London again... for the ninth time..*

"OH COME THE FUCK ON!"

766318>>768553

Okay, so he doesn't know much besides the dis-information we fed them... Good. Orion saw the human raise an eyebrow. Oh crap, hope he didn't notice that...

"The humans? Last I know, some of them are being placed to work in the factories making weaponry. Maybe they'll get a less harder job if you'll just give up." She raised an eyebrow.

"You said 'some'. What of the rest?"

"Um... I think enslaved to the Nightmare by the corruptible Miasma and forced to fight... I'm not too sure about this one though. I have seen corrupted humans working on captured human bases, where we can't use your technology. I mean, keyboards are for fingers, not hooves." She tapped the table to accentuate her point.

"My turn. Why do you know about death and destruction? This is a more... Personal... Question."

(Please, I have daily four hour Red Alert 2 games with a South-Korean player who keeps killing me with nukes fired from orbit.)

768553>>768712

Phoenix let out a sigh.

"Not always a spook, I was Spec Ops before this damned invasion. And just call me Phoenix, makes things easier." He looked at the pilot. "Heh, Importance? I wish. No, the reason I'm here is because we're both walking right into the mouth of hell, and only fair that you know everything I do. We're scouting an area north of Canterlot, a place has not been seen since the rise of the Empire. The last one out of there was a Stallion named Storm Chaser, an Archoelogist who's now a Lieutenant with the Dawn Rebels. He'll be providing most of the Intel on this mission."

~~~

I'm calling BS on that, somethings just not right here...

"Death and destruction? Something I've become very acquainted with of late..." Riley looked down. "I was at Coronet and Gracemaria too, fighting the ground war. While you were above dropping bombs on us, I was trying desperately to get civilians too safety. Everyone was looking too me for guidance, a green lieutenant for guidance. I failed them. My men, the Civilians, my friends and family..." He swallowed hard. "I know many still believe in the Maker, that there is life after death, a place where pain is no more. Me? I'm not so sure anymore..." He snapped out of it, cursing himself for getting personal in front of the Lunar.

"Let's turn the tables then." He continued. "What has Nightmare Moon done to make you so loyal that you'd commit genocide without a second thought?"

(Hooah Bitches! Americans kick ass no matter what the game! Just watch out for Gandhi, once he gets nukes there's no appeasing him...
And World in Conflict is where it's at!)

768800>>768712

Forgive the godawful quality of this, thank you.

"I see, Admiralty is also using this to update our war-charts. Considering what we have avaliable... is quite bad."

Yeah, I mean look at this!-" Cougar began, while waving his hand over our maps. "- We're using trashed tourist brochures, antiquated weather charts, and pre-defence cuts Equestrian Forces maps. Hell, we've even resorted to 'Where would I put'em?' in a attempt to gauge enemy anti-air positions!"

I watched as Casp-Phoenix looked over our maps, studying what we had marked down. I personally knew our briefing wouldn't be much better, considering this was the first time in months, any of us would be over the mainland. Any maps we had before the invasion, were largely useless due to mass bombings and defensive lines built by the Empire.

Even with modern, updated maps. Enemy positions were another story entirely, since they could change by the hour. AA & AAA positions moved the most of any military hardware, meaning data good one day, could be nearly useless the next. Yet, any data on positions, even old data would be nice.

"A few spots are sure-fire for SAM sites, while a good many of these are just wrong.. If you could spare a moment, can we go over these? I have some information that maybe of some value to you..."

93 Minutes after three...

"Lard-Tunderin' Jeezus I'm sum beat." I muttered, dragging myself into our quarters. Phoenix took far longer than I thought he would. He gave us what information he had on the area, and weapon sites. Removing, moving, increasing, and decreasing weapon sites we labled across the map.

"No kidding.. you don't mind if I play some tunes 'fore racktime, do ya?" I slid into my rack, letting my body relax as my exhaustion set in.

"None of that heavy, fast n' loud shit then. I need some sleep before the mission."

"Oh don't worry, It's just a hymm for my fraid nerves.."

"Whaddya nervous in the service?"

"What? No, just this mission... Just gotta bad feeling about it." Cougar finished quietly, the room now filled with silence. We never discussed shit like this, unless it really bothered us. Since it could, and likely would jinx the mission.. if you're the supersticious type anyway.

"Don't worry b'y, we'll be fine... I'll stake my life on it."

**Fing-Fong-bing-bong!**
Sing-Song Propaganda Voice - "Learning is Growing!" (Fuck this ungodly early morning..)

Thought I'd share some native slang to my area, since as of late I've been hearing it everytime I hit O' Donaghues for the past few nights. Man, I love Maritime English, I really do.. And Canadianisms...

Noupe - The Miramichi'ers term for Vagina.

I quote my good friend Alex on this one:
"Oh bouys, did she ever 'ave such an fuckin' 'mazin' noupe on 'er Eh!

Also, had an idea(s) for spreading some activity around here, just a loose one anyways.
Why not have a Joke thread? Yes, kinda done plenty before, but hey, whynot?

768800>>773278

It happened so fast. In a blink of an eye, she was standing on the table, with the Colonel's Deagle in her muzzle, pointing at his head.

The secure door thumped. Orion turned and bucked the chair. It slid neatly into place beneath the door knob, jamming the door. The thumping stopped.

Satisfied, she turned back to the man. She spat out the pistol and dissembled it, tossing the pieces into a corner. As a safety measure, she bent the slide ever-so-slightly so as to induce a gun jam should Davis ever try to use it against her.

"Don't. You. Ever. Call. Me. Loyal to that bitch." Orion whispered through gritted teeth as she stripped the pistol.

"why, what happened?"

Orion slumped down loudly on the floor. The colonel stood up and walked around the table,dragging the chair.

"It's a long story, but we've got time..." Orion stared at the door. "How much do you know of the Equestria before the Nightmare? Of the destruction of Stalliongrad?"

"Admittedly, not much."

Orion sighed. "Let's start from the start. I was born and grew up in Stalliongrad. My name is Orion Lightfeathers. I'm twenty-two this year. About three years ago, on the thousandth year of the Summer Sun celebrations, Nightmare Moon returned. She was relentless..."

Orion turned slightly. "When she descended upon Stalliongrad... Stalliongrad... It put up the most amount of resistance of all the Equestrian colonies. You'd think she'll be pissed off. When she was done with the colony, there was nothing left. Just dust and screams on the wind. Not a single survivor."

"So why did you join her?"

"I didn't." Orion answered.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"She still got me with the Miasma, just not as much. Everytime I try to back off from a fight..." She turned and grabbed Davis's shirt.

"The nightmares come. It's like your greatest fears, multiplied a hundredfold, then unleashed upon you. You will WANT death, but you'll never find it. So I have to fight, even when it's against my will." She whispered.

She let go, leaving the man to his thoughts.

"My turn. I want to see the pilots that shot me down. The two F/A 18's and the Two F-4's."

Shortly after Equestria was conquered, Nightmare Moon turned her eyes north to Gryphus. The demon and her armies tore into the griffons like a pack of wolfs. Their retreating military ran out of land to fall back on, so it turned to the Noric Ocean. Upon meeting a Yuk formation, Nightmare's forces completely destroyed both formations of ships. Cargo on one of those ships, was said to be wreckage of the most exotic piece of military equipment used in the Equine/Griffon war, just a few years ago. The F-01 “Wyvern” At the time it was thought that it was controlled via neural interface, and to compensate the pilot's g-force tolerance, advanced life support systems were used to keep them alive under the most extreme forces. The life support could not prevent damage to the body, it just kept the brain alive. However, it was found that the pilot had little control of the aircraft, and there was no sign on UAV capabilities. Before the pony scientist could figure out how it works, Nightmare Moon returned.

The sarcophagus of the F-01, a damaged submarine, lay dormant along with it's fallen fleet. Suddenly, red emergency lighting activated, and the damaged submarine began to rumble. Water was drained and the ship began to ascend.

Average Civ IV game:

You have completed The Pyramids.

Shaka has completed the Manhattan Project.

ಠ_ಠ

773278>>773459

It all happened so fast that Riley barely had time to react, finding himself reaching for his pistol that was currently being taken apart by the Imperial Pilot.

She's good. Very good. I haven't been caught off-guard like that in a while.

He knew their would be an uproar of the guards who were standing outside for the door being jammed, but Riley didn't care. He was in command, and so long as he walked away from this encounter, he'd keep his word. He listened to what she was saying, thinking over every word.

Guess life sucks for everyone under this endless night... But at least we know that she could possibly be of more use to us...

"My turn. I want to see the pilots that shot me down. The two F/A 18's and the Two F-4's."

Riley stared at her for a moment, then chuckled.

"Ok, first: That's not a question. Second, I'm a Marine Colonel, I can't order them to come here. Third, from what I understand, one of those pilots who shot you down was once the leader of Rogue Squadron, and you and your squadron were the one's that killed all of them except him, so I doubt he really wants to 'talk' to you."

768800>>773459>>774454

A Few Restless Hours Later...

I stood alone in the armoury, loading rounds one-by one into magazines. The mission briefing wrapped up a few minutes ago, with little we didn't know. From what Rossdale had shown us, was nothing new from last night. If anything, it was a repeat of what Casper did, except more in-depth. We had partial evidence of what to expect on the ground, however the skies, were a different story.

Which concerned us, we can hold our own, however.. we can only handle so many, until the pressure is too much, and the ammunition runs dry. If one of the VFA's could provide support on the spot, it would be a relief. Yet, with recent events this has become all but impossible to spare them. As they all are needed in fleet defence.That is, what the Admiralty believes anyway..

Even Rossdale believes that they can spare one, or two VFA's flights for backup support. He and I think the Admiralty are making a mistake.. yet, they wouldn't listen, nor would they pay any mind. Too concerned with the mission, and the results it will bring... They show no concern, to the last of the Stalkers.

In the past, this isn't the first time they neglected us, and thrown us to the hounds.. It's just there way of wanting to win this fight, at any cost.

A cost, that we pay in blood...

*Click*

We can't hold out much longer, sir!

*Click*

Lieutenant Lynch, you gotta get us outta here!

*Click*

I won't let you down, I won't let you down son.

*Click*

Goddamnit sir, how long do I have to wait I've lost fifteen men already, sir!

They're lighting us up like a firestorm, sir!

*Click*

This is lieutenant Lynch, you must get those men outta there!

*Click*

We don't have clearence to go behind enemy lines, sir!

*Click*

They're not coming for us... are they sir...

*Chic-chack*

The slide slammed home with a familiar metallic thunk, my chest burning at the past I've forced myself through. On the day I watched my brothers and sisters of my squadron, fighting to the death, waiting for a rescue that never came. I've protested the Admiralty's orders, their actions on that day. I've even brought it up with the Emmerian High Command, part of which had become part of the Admiralty the day we were pushed to the sea.

The days of being a green, fresh faced lieutenant, in the airforce are long behind me now. As is that dark day in my history. Today, I've a chance to provide some rest to my worn mind. What they do know, is that Talon Squadron... the bastards that were one large reason, command denied my requests for evacuation for the stranded 409th that day...

And today, I'll send my cold deathly regards to those heartless fuckers.. from Chatham with love. Rossdale had hard evidence, that they were there. On simple CAP partols, above the valley of darkness.

A fitting place to watch them burn, falling from the sky.. from the hot steel rounds of my cannon, piercing their wretched black hearts...

"Hey sir, you ready to go?" Cougar asked, standing in the bulkhead doorway. I snapped my head to him, slipping my M45 MEUSOC into its tattered leather holster.

"...Yeah.. lets go light the fires, and kick the tires Coug's."

"That's more like it, planes are on the deck, ready to-go. Just waiting on you sir."

"Well then, lets get going. I'd rather not keep Darkstar waiting on us.. again."

Aim with the Hand...

Shoot with the Mind...

Kill with a heart, of arctic ice...

774454>>774875>>774877

"Oh well. I guess so." Orion turned around and unhooked the chair from the door. "I'm fine for questions now, what do you wanna know? List it out for me?" Davis took out a pen and pad.

A commando entered the room. "Is everything fine, sir?"

"Yes, it's okay. Please wait outside." Orion held the door open for the commando, who eyed her warily.

"You watch it, furball."

"Yessir. I'll be cool sir. No funny stuff, sir." She smiled sweetly as she nicked the two fragmentation grenades from the retreating commando's pouch without anyone noticing, hiding them in her bushy tail.

Great. I've got my escape method. Now, to escape itself...

"Talon 0-4, on the money. Stay speed."

"Roger, Hammer 2-1. Holding speed." Lightning watched the fuel hose descend, hooking onto it.

Suddenly, alarms everywhere.

"Talon squadron, unidentified bogey's headed your way. Prep to fight!"

"Hammer 2-1, conducting emergency detach. Say ready."

"Ready" The hose clicked off and retreated as Lightning turned her SU-47 around.

"Talon! The skies belong to us! Destroy them!"

Avg Red Alert 2 game:
(Great, got my lightning storm Superweapon powered up! Now to kill him...)

(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)(Nuclear missile launched)

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU..........

775458>>774877

"Right then, the basics are that we need tactical information on Imperial Forces, positions, numbers, the like. Then we need to know if there's anything else you can tell us about other resistance groups..."

As he talked, Riley felt an uneasiness rise within him. His survival of the war so far had equipped him with an acute "Danger sense" as he liked to call it. That sense was currently rising, but he couldn't tell if it was because of Orion or something else.

The sooner the Armada gets out of this sector, the better I'll feel.

777016>>775458>>774454

First off, I'd like to apologize for taking so long (And for not replying for so long too). However trying to manage a gaggle of excited kiddies, trying to tie-up loose ends after a story release... is quite fucking hard, I'm on the verge of ripping the rest of my hair out.

777016>>784341>>774454

"Huh... Right... About that..." Orion tried to look absentminded as she wove the grenades into her tail, hiding them in plain sight.

"What?"

She picked up the pen with her mouth. I wonder if the effect has grown old yet...

"What are you saying?"

She wrote a sentence. "The current position of our forces at this location include..."

Orion suddenly coughed. It was slightly violent. Ah shit...

She felt the claws of pain beginning to scratch her surface. Outwardly, she wore a grimace, and a dark streak ran from her eye down to her hind leg, slowly spreading like a virus.

"The hell?!"

Orion coughed again. Harder this time. The pain began to reach out. It threatened to crush her ribs.
"Miasma." She whispered it.

Davis leaned in. "I can't hear you. What is it?"

Orion felt the knife of hurt enter her body. She knew it wasn't real, but it still made her cry out in pain and double over.

By now, she could see the color change, her limbs nearly totally a dull black. The feeling of being showered with shattered glass assailed her body. Orion fell to the floor, twitching.

"You tried to betray the Queen. You deserve to be punished." The red glaring eyes stared at her battered body.

"Davis..." She forced herself up. A sudden racking cough caused her to spit blood.

"We will now take your mind as punishment. It is only temporal..."

"Davis... Run... Lock the door... Run..." Her sentence became incoherent. The environment suddenly turned a bright red.

"A suitable target has been found. Kill it." In her mind, Orion's consciousness was pushed to the back seat.

She growled and pounced.

"Without fail... They just keep coming. When will the Dawn Rebels realize that?" Lightning snapped as two fireballs descended in her wake.

(Yeah, sorry for the absence. My tablet derped out and my computer was in servicing.)

777016>>774454>>786695

The flight stick vibrated lightly, as the IAS needle held firm at .88 Mach, just under the speed of sound. For the past twenty minutes, we've been flying just above the raging ocean. Staying out of RADAR detection from installations on the shoreline, which was fast approaching.

"Stalkers, you are zero-one from the mission area, prepare for immediate mission start."

"Roger Darstar, keep on posted, Stalker's out." Without a doubt, I was nervous, who wouldn't be? Yet, I've a job to do. And at any cost, I must see it through. With this data, if anything could be gained from it, might be a sign of a counter-attack. One that has been long over do. At this point, we need to attack. Or we'll become too weak to even mount a counter-attack.

"Commencing Zion mission now, Cougar, switch on the sensors and cameras. We're at the mouth of the Pun Chu Delta."

"Yessir.." Even through the mechanization of his mask, I could still hear the fear. I couldn't blame him, since essentially he was flying an aluminum coffin.

"Be advised Stalker's, bogey's on your two o'clock high, angels nine." I looked up, spying two distant burning balls of flame, and two pairs of blowers flying off.

"I have eyes on, Darkstar."

"What are they doing?" The moment Cougar finished, the trails of flame changed direction...

... Straight towards us.

"Coming after us, that's what. Stalker 1-1, engaging! Darkstar, we've been compromised, repeat we are compromised!" Alright fucker's, lets dance.. "Cougar, keep going, I'll take this bastards.."

This shall be your day of reckoning, Talon..

Ugh, I really hate how this sounds. I'll fix this later, when this Canadian has slept off St. Patty's day.