"If I see the enemy amassing their planes for an attack, then I'm gonna knock the shit out of them before they take off from the ground...that's the nature of war...if you kill enough of them, they'll stop fighting."
- General Curtis LeMay

"Your Majesty, I'm not making excuses." General Tharen did his best to not voice the slight annoyance he was feeling. "There is just no possible way to get forces to the Crystal Empire without inciting war. PACT has the entire Airspace around it locked down tight, their surrounded by Griffonia in the North and The Empire to the east, west, and south. I don't need to tell that after the incident at the border, the NEE is just itching for an excuse to declare war. Their allies share there thoughts, and they might see any troop movements to reinforce the Crystal Empire to be a threat."

"I understand General." Princess Celestia replied over the video call in the command center, her voice eternally patient and kind, a fact that Tharen felt both comforting and unnerving at the same time. "But as you said, the Empire is eager for war. And if war does occur, then the Crystal Empire will be cut off from our forces. They are still a protectorate of Equestria, and I don't plan to abandon Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor."

"I'm not saying that we're abandoning anyone. I'm simply saying that there is planning going on in the case of war, but that's all we can do. Unless you want US to start this war?"

"Of course not."

"The we'll have to trust the plan in place."

"And just what is such a plan?"

"To get either Usean or Appleloosan Rangers into the city from an Airborne drop. We just need to hope that the Crystal Legionnaires will be able hold the enemy forces off until we can reinforce them. From what I've seen, they should be able to do it."

"It's not a desirable situation..." Celestia folded her hooves. "I'll wish to discuss this matter with General Chaser."

Of course you do. Tharen thought. You just want to hear it from one of your Officers to make sure the human isn't lying to you.

"I'll be certain to alert him to your request next time I speak with him."

"Thank you." Celestia bowed her head respectfully, then the video flickered out.

The General glanced over at the Unicorn communications officer.

"Have you managed to make contact with General Chaser?"

"Yes sir. Putting you through....now."

A new figure came on the large video screen, this one of an Earth Pony wearing a Royal Army jacket.

"Storm."

"Cole." The Earth pony nodded. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Just the status update for the day. You know I don't like you being so close to the border..."

General Storm Chaser, against the advice of most of his advisers, had begun inspecting NATO Air Force bases near the Equestrian-NEE border to make sure they would be ready to spring any moment.

"Thank you mother, I'll be careful and be sure to wash behind my ears." The General rolled his eyes. "What's the news on the diplomatic front?"

"They've....cut the hotlines."

"What?!"

"We've heard nothing from any one of the PACT governments since oh-eight-hundred this morning. Usea has moved to DEFCON 2, and Emmeria has mobilized their fleets around Gracemeria, as well as other precautions." Tharen said.

"Are we really that close to war?"

"Let's just say... you may want to make sure these bases your visiting are ready to launch a fighter squadron in under two minutes...preferably faster."

O.F.S. Kestrel
"Petersen."

"Captain Snow?"

"How are the fighters in your squad right now?"

Petersen seemed rather confused by the sudden question, but answered all the same.

"All the Sea Eagles are in good shape, last I checked; what, are we going to war?" he chuckled.

"We just might, yes."

Damn jinxes.

"Ah...alright; what're our orders?"

"The 3rd Fleet's getting ready for a fight, which means we'll have to be ready. Things are going to be crazy over the next few hours; now whether they get better or worse, I don't know."

"Shockwave's ready for the worst of it."

"Hope so."

Zancudo Naval Air Station - Osea

Ensign Arrowing lie in the brig forlornly, staring at the ceiling.

Only two squadrons had even partially survived. To Griffon sand pirates of all things.
It seemed so unreal. They'd appeared in the dead of night, bypassing the mostly Human marine detachment stationed there by simply flying in via wing.
The pirates then proceeded to descend on the base like a horde of locusts.
Unfortunately for Griskin her species made her a prime target for the investigation afterwards.

She looked up at the sound of the cell door sliding open. The Master-at-Arms gestured for her to step forward.

"Another interrogation session?" Arrowing asked, ready to hear the worst.

"We're on high alert, we need all the able-bodied personnel we can get, ma'am." Answered the MA.

The Ensign raised an eye crest "Including the Griffon being investigated on charges of treason?"

The MA shrugged helplessly.

Griskin snorted as she stepped out of the cell and followed the now-moving MA.

"Please tell me we're not that desperate mate." She asked, hoping the answer would be no.

"Have ya' seen what happens if ya' lie to an officer nowadays?" Stated the MA, completely deadpan.

They exited the building and the Ensign squinted with the sudden influx of natural sunlight.

"I was ordered to give ya' this and request you report to your quarters ASAP." Said the Master-at-Arms, handing her a folder.

They exchanged salutes and went on their separate ways.

They can't be bloody serious. Thought Griskin to herself as she walked back to the officer's barracks completely unattended.

She walked through the empty doorframe, ignoring the lingering smells of battle as she made her way back to her quarters. The entire barracks seemed deserted with most of the officers dead or hospitalized.

The Ensign sighed before licking a talon and opening the folder. To say the contents were discomforting to her was a great understatement.

(My writing skill, where did it go?! Wait. I never had any. Anyway, I should probably rewrite this. For right now I suppose it will do though. )

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The Shinden spluttered to a stop on the runway of Vulcan A.F.B, in the Osean Metropolis of Solo City. The Rookie of Arrow Squadron, Mizuki, got out. Her flight partner, Nagisa Kasuga walked over, Looking at Mizuki blankly.

"Remind me why The Arrow Squadron let you in here?" Nagisa asked.

"Hmm?"

"We heard about your misadventure in Anea. You deserted your squadron..."

"To Stop a guy from stopping Estovakian Bombers from razing a village." Mizuki said.

"And you were kicked out of your squadron for that, Lost your pay. You're prime Metcenary material, Mizuki, Evil as that may seem... Actually, downright despicable, that was the right thing to do...." Nagisa paused. "...At least, I think it was. Anyway, the Commander wants us in the Briefing room. And please. Try to find a better Training plane than the Shinden. I respect the fact that your Grandfather flew that plane in the Corporation Wars Long Ago, but the Shinden has no place in the Modern world."

"Whatever. Let's get this new thing over with." Mizuki said, walking off towards the briefing room.

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Orion wrapped the parka tighter around her body. Her teeth chattered as cold snow whipped her face. She trod on gamely, each step sinking deep into the snow.

Her target was the one of the four lights in a seven kilometer radius on at that time. Every other light in the small town was off, owners gone.

After seven minutes and having to make a detour because of a massive snow pile, Orion reached the front door. She immediately fell inside, got up quickly and shut the door, leaning heavily on it.

"Hell hath frozen over outside..." She muttered.

Inside the small room, was all her stuff. Which didn't really amount to much. A couple of off duty clothes, flight uniforms, helmet, guitar, boomerang, KRISS Vector, a couple of novels, DART issued PC.

All which lay neatly arranged on her bed. She wasted no time grabbing it all and storing it into the transport trunk, which would be picked up later.

As she groped around on the top shelf for the unspent .45 ACP shells, something tumbled from it, hitting the vulcanized rubber flooring with a sharp 'crack'.

Orion dropped everything. The five shells she found tinkled to the floor.

The photo was still safe, but the frame was gone. Orion fished the photo out gently, laying it out on her desk.

The photo was faded, but that was to be expected. After all, it has been 10 years since she lost contact with her family. They were in Northern Equestria when the rebels attacked. Orion stared at the smiling faces, looking so happy to be going on a trip to the Northern Mountains. When asked to join the family trip, Orion had quietly declined, stating she was on duty.

Would they have made it out if she had agreed to go?

Two sisters, Gemini and Lynx. Father and mother. Orion assumed they were dead, killed, as her parents were relatively high-ranking troops in the Equestrian Armed Forces.

"Gem, Ly... NATO and PACT are going to war... I don't know if your alive or not, in the NEE, but I swear, if you are, I'll come save you personally. If you... If you're dead..." Orion sat on her bunk heavily.

A loud rapping came from her door. "Orion! Innocence is leaving in ten minutes! We've gotta go!"

"I'll kill every last one of them." Orion swallowed and said with a steely determination.

"Transport's here, Stormrider squadron, load up!"

She tucked the photo into her flight vest, grabbed the small kit bag she packed, and left the room.

The Innocence Eternal plowed her way through the ice sheets, her icebreaker hull making quick work of the thin ice. Behind her, two Ticonderoga-class cruisers Redshank and Geofont followed clsely behind in the trail.

It may have looked odd from a distance, as the ships were all blood-red in color.

And so DART had joined the brewing storm.

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I really need a better pastime...

Though I may be a few hours early for what's considered normal traffic down here, I don't mind the silent atmosphere. In fact I envy it. Not that I'm anti-social or against hanging out with my fellow pilots, heavens no. It's mostly because my constant and persistent headaches are less aggressive in the morning hours. So in light of that, I need to plan most days according to how my damn headaches ravage my senses; without using medication if possible.

Because a doped pilot, is a dead pilot.

With a soft click I thumbed the hammer back and levelled the weapon at the paper target down range. Before long, I had steadied my hand and began concentrating on my breathing.

Easy... squeeze and fondle...

With sharp cracks and deafening repetition, I'd snapped off rounds as fast as I could squeeze the trigger. I continued this until the rapid thunder was replaced with merely a click, as the hammer struck nothing.

"Good shooting, Cipher... though your rapid firing has a nasty affect on your accuracy." With practiced precision and speed I'd ejected the magazine and cleared the chamber; before resting the weapon down on the table whilst I turned to see the owner of the voice.

"Group Captain Sobel, early for you isn't it?" I saluted, to which she returned in kind.

"Not really, even with our current situation it seems that even if I awoke any earlier it wouldn't do much good... how's your squadron scramble times." Our times... oh yes, they'r-

"One minute, and thirty-seven seconds. That's our time when our Voodoo's are on the ready-strip though. Why, is there an issue with that ma'am?"

She sighed, pulling a small paper from her satchel, "As of now, all military personnel are to return from leave and all leave is cancelled indefinitely. Though I can't speak of much, I'm aware that the entire Ustian Forces have been placed on Primary Alert... following events a few hours ago."

I could feel the smile slipping away from my face as I moved my sidearm back into my holster, leaving the signed-magazine on the table for the next crew.

"With all of that, we're shifting into attack positions which includes your squadron. I want all available planes ready for immediate take-off, no exceptions and loaded with primary armaments."

"Does this include the AIR-2's, ma'am?" She nodded slowly, as she returned the paper into the satchel.

"Yes, and those permissions come from the Chief Air Marshall himself. Now go, you'll need to be ready for orders should they come." I gave a final salute before rushing out to find my wingmen, while deep inside I could feel my latest promise to myself crumbling away.

I knew I should've never quit smoking...

Jesus, I'm rusty. I'll keep fine tuning this as the day goes on. And I discovered an issue, Somers... the CF-101B's were designed to carry sidewinders, a cannon and the AIR-2's. Are these warheads still allowed, or do they fall under "WMD's"? I can, of course weaken them by the powers of fiction! So that they're less powerful or less accurate than they already are.

"I see the other one, up in the clouds," the other fighter reported. "Probably trying to get the jump on us."

"Yep, and is see his bait; down around Angels 10," Petersen said. "Can you take the clouds one ok?"

"No problem, you can take the other."

Petersen drove his F-15S behind his target, an F-14; suddenly, the Tomcat began to increase an speed and try to escape.

"Bullwhip, I got his friend; looks like he's running."

"I'll take him."

Petersen followed the Tomcat's move of increasing speed. Both jets pushed past Mach 2, their engines giving off the shock diamonds from the afterburner. As the larger Tomcat twisted and turned, the Eagle had to play the game of keeping up, while matching his speed.

"Sorry pal, you can't hide," Petersen said.

"He's climbing."

"I see that."

The F-14's body pointed upward and shot in that direction, with the Sea Eagle following him.

"He's leveling-damn, dropping speed!"

He hit the airbrakes and slowed down, keeping behind his target.

"God, too close."

The F-14 broke left and turned over, diving straight down towards the sea; Petersen didn't dive immediately, but kept a close eye and thinking of how he'd level out.

"Ok, let's try this."

Getting some distance, he put his Eagle into more of a fast glide, but in a good spot to keep an eye on the target. The Tomcat leveled out as he'd hoped, and the Eagle, already going faster, quickly closed the distance. The HUD lit up, and after keeping his fighter steady for a few seconds, his Sidewinder got a lock on the large fighter.

"Pow, you're dead Swordsman."

Both planes leveled out, completing the duel.

"Good flying, Bullwhip," the Tomcat pilot said. "Should've pulled another turn, then I'dve been under you."

"Yea yea, save the 'what ifs' for the rec room," Petersen responded. "Ok, training done; let's get back to the boat."

ABOVE GRACEMARIA AFB
EMMERIA
2ND LT. SKY 'SLASH' DUST

Fuckfuckfuckfuck!

I rolled my F-4 into a hard right turn as the sound of a sidewinder locking on to me blared through my headphones. I quickly reversed my turn as the tone began to die off and looked over my shoulder at the F-4 firmly planted on my six. As the sound began to return, I levelled and pulled back and right on the stick while kicking full right rudder, sending my jet into a corkscrew and burning some of my speed. After two complete rolls I glanced at my airspeed, realizing that it was right where I needed it. A smirk appeared under my mask as I slammed the throttle shut, before popping my air breaks and flaps, and jamming the stick as far back as I could. As my nose rose up I slowly applied more power keeping my jet in level flight as it 'skidded' straight, with the nose pointing almost ninety degrees straight up.

I glanced left and saw the other F-4 blow past. I quickly slammed the stick forward, opened the throttle to full afterburner, as well as retracting the flaps and air breaks. As my nose came down I squeezed the trigger.

"Broadsword shot down. Slash wins! RTB." Came the voice of the exercise official.

"Wow! That was some fancy flyin' there mate! How do you do a Cobra in an F-4?" Came the accented voice of Buck 'Broadsword' Sword, my new wingpony.

I smiled under my oxygen mask at the praise before replying, "The same way you would do it in any other plane that can do it."

"But the F-4 can't do it." He said puzzled.

"I don't really know. I figure it's my talent for flying planes I guess."

A chuckle came through my headphones before he said, "Fair enough. Come on, let's land. I'm running low on fuel."

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Fuckin'. Pain...

Its been a few hours since the morning meeting with the Commander, and since then, all of us from the 416th have been on-duty awaiting further orders. For most of them, its been nothing but a few hours to watch the television or read a magazine in here, our rec room. However, for myself its been absolute torture... as with the noisy atmosphere of the room causing my headaches to flare.

And worst of all? I didn't bring any of my "preventive" medication...

The funny thing about the rec room is that you get attached to the shithole. As much as you are attached to the base. It's more than sentiment. It's an urge for protection. The loneliest feeling in our world is when you're low on fuel and over the mountains by the border, with no airfield in sight. You think of the rec room then, and the noisy guys who make it the most desirable place in the world. It's your office, you live in it, it is the big thing in your life. You sweat and worry in it, and grouse and argue, and you get mad at it when you can't hear yourself speak because everyone is yelling at once, but you're deeply attached to the place. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hey Cipher, how's the head?"

"Head's pounding, my eyes make it worse and I'm agitated as fuck.. so all in all, I'm fuckin' great! Thanks for asking, Fox!"

"That's good to hear!" I cracked open my eyes at my laughing wingman, Frank Jaeger. Also known by most of us as "Grey Fox" or simply "Fox". Joining him were other pilots in our squadron, laughing at my suffering while we waited for our stand-down orders. Those were Yoda, Shaft, Scuba and Snocone.

"Y'all are a bunch of assholes..." I closed my eyes again as I sunk into the beanbag couch. The laughing intensified before settling back down again.

"How much longer are we in for, Cyph?" I grumbled before answering Yoda.

"At least another seven hours, then the night crew changes in."

"Balls to it all, because I had a date for tonight." Really? A date, you say?

"Scuba, if you have a date.. does that mean it'll end like the one in Las Pegasus?" The laughter flared again as the guys remembered how he'd exactly earned his callsign. Although, I never understand how he managed to get her upstairs so fast... and I doubt I ever will.

"Oh fuck off - it was good until you assholes barged in!"

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"Nocturne, check fuel and IFF." Orion sat in her cockpit, soaring just below the operational ceiling of the F-4E.

"Fuel is depleting faster than we originally expected, we're not going to make a trip back. Better hope the 3rd fleet is feeling generous." He tapped the fuel gauge, which recalculated to about 32% left.

Orion laid back into her seat. "From reports, the 3rd fleet should be just in front of us. I'll pass through the cloud layer, maybe we can spot them."

Their F-4E was totally armed with fuel tanks and had just the cannon for defense. Orion had made her longest transit flight ever, just to go ahead, find the 3rd fleet and tell them of DART's approach. Inside, she wondered why they didn't contact the 3rd fleet by radio, and surmised it was probably because hey were afraid of PACT picking up the signal. Not that she complained, it was reason to fly, and that was enough for her.

That's when two radar blips appeared to their right. Orion twisted to look, spotting a F-14 followed by a F-15 popping up. The F-14 dived quickly, but the F-15 pilot was smarter. She was surprised that they didn't spot her, though her IFF was off at the moment.

"Looks like training. Maybe we can tail them back to the 3rd fleet?" Orion flipped over and dived, trying to catch up to the fast movers.

"Switching on IFF now, don't wanna be shot down." Nocturne flicked a few switches.

That'll be the day... Orion thought, keeping the two jets in sight.

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"Hey, Mizuki!"

"Hmm?"

"Don't you have a friend on the Osean Navy?" One of her squadmates, Erika Steiner, asked.

"Oh yeah... Alicia Friezen. I wonder where she is right now?" Mizuki asked, not noticing the long-haired glasses wearing girl sitting on one of the cafe chairs behind her.

"Behind you, Mein Freund." Alicia said, turning the pages of the book she was reading.

"Alicia!" Mizuki highfived her long-time friend. "How's like on that sub of yours? The O.S....Hammerhead?"

"Sea Goblin, actually. It's great and all. Most of the crew are on friendly terms. My role as the Weapons Officer is an important role indeed. In fact, i'm in line for promotion to the skipper."

"That's fantastic, Alicia!" Mizuki exclaimed, hugging Alicia. The squadron chuckled at this.

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I'm actually waiting for the last player to post before I begin the turn.
Patience young grasshopper

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Yes, it would be that I've seem to have forgotten about our Mr. Spark... speaking of which, is he still in this?

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Yes he is, just taking his time is all

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As if 2 days, and 45 minutes isn't enough time to write an intro.

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Well he's also had a lot on his plate, so I've been generous for the moment. How's the map coming by the way?

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I'm on my tablet ATM. The computer CPU literally fried itself. Might want to get somebody else with Photoshop on the case. I'm so sorry. I can do basic stuff, but nothing fancy with the tablet.

Maybe another three days if I try ad fight the tablet?

2525403, I can't help but wonder if we share the same god-awful luck with personal computers. And hasn't this already happened before during one of the other RP's?

2525212, forgive my rushing nature on this - however understand why I want to start is because we've seen firsthand what happens if we lollygag too long. It turns into a first-class kerfuffle. I'll keep waiting, that's not a problem bud. But... I just hope we don't need to wait too much longer for him.

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Yeah, seems like my computer hates when I have Project ACES and Photoshop pulled up at the same time.

Anyway, I'll brute force it with MS paint. Won't be fast.

Edit: Cleaned out unessential posts.

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ERAF (Equestrian Royal Air Force [Base]) Yolanmare
Northeastern Equestria - 5km from the Gulf of Ursean
18:47 Local Time

It was late afternoon. The slowly setting sun was painting the sky brilliant shades of oranges and reds, with just a hint of purple creeping in. A few gulls flew overhead, reminding any personnel stationed on the base that, besides being the closest operating air base to the airspaces of both the turbulent nations of Belka and the NEE, they were also close to the water, a much more tranquil body by comparison.

Two such personnel -both pilots, as could easily be determined from the flight suits they wore- were walking out from a hangar, having parked their aircraft there after a routine border patrol. The first, a unicorn mare, had removed her helmet as soon as she could to let her I’m-not-sure-this-is-entirely-within-regulation length platinum blonde hair fall down free from under it. The second, a pegasus stallion, still wore his helmet, sun visor down, blacking out his bright magenta eyes so as to blend his face in with the rest of his pitch black coat.

“Do you really have to keep playing that music so loud all the time while we are up there, Breeze?” the stallion asked the mare, his deep and pronounced Appleloosan accent coming through and a slight, relaxed smile on his face, acting as if he had not asked her the same question countless times before.

“Calm down, Soot, it’s just muzik.” the mare replied with her own satisfied smirk, her Northern Belkan accent still strong after years of living in Equestria, “You should listen to it sometime, you’re certainly not going to be hearing me say any’sing like it to you over the radio.” she winked and chuckled before adding, “Besides, it would really loozen you up I ‘sink.”

“And just how “loose” do you expect to be after ShyEye catches you blasting rock & roll on your flight comm and throws you in the brig for breaking regulations?” he retorted with a friendly jab to her shoulder, referring to their underspoken but authoritative AWACS operator who always talked them through their sortees.

“First ov all,” Breeze started with an eye roll and a return jab at Soot, “General Fluttershy wouldn’t ‘srow me in ze ‘brig’ since I’m not in ze Navy. And second, shut up, it’z good muzik and it helps me focus. Zhese patrols are so dull anyway, even with zhat ‘incident’ with ze border guard, I need somezhing to keep me avake.” she finished with a wink.

Her wingpony chuckled, “Whatever, I am right and you know it. Your accent is always much stronger when you get defensive, so that just proves you do not want to admit that you are wrong. Be careful talking like that in the air or you are going to start an international incident all on your own.”

To this Breeze just stuck out her tongue in a rather unprofessional manner, “Oh be quiet, you. Not everyone can have your oh so perfekt Equestrian akzent.” She then proceeded to do her best to copy that ‘akzent’, which meant she mocked it horribly, “Oh I’m sorry, y’all, I shoulda’ not mocked Breeze for her absolutely wonderful taste in music. It’s just the darntootenest best stuff it is it is.” she jabbed the black pegasus on the shoulder once more before breaking out in barely contained laughter.

Soot just shook his head and muttered, “Darntootenest? And when have I ever said “y’all”?” he then gave up and echoed Breeze’s laughter in his own restrained manner, as he had done every other time their post-flight conversations devolved into her making a hideous mockery of what Soot considered himself to be a rather refined way of speaking, all in the name of unwinding after a long day (or night) on duty.

However, this time their little relaxation session was cut short by the cough of the chief flight mechanic, “*ahem* Lieutenants, you might wanna can it. We’ve got big brass nearby.”

“Oh, and which ‘big brass’ iz that, Tech Sergeant Wingnut?” Breeze asked, regaining some of her composure along with a hint of her old accent.

The big brown stallion with five chevrons on his rolled-up sleeves responded with a head tilt in the direction behind the two jocular fighter jocks, “The biggest, Lieutenant.”

The two pilots turned around saw to their shock and mild horror that there, not 50 feet away from them, was a tough-looking earth stallion wearing a heavily decorated Equestrian Royal Army uniform with four stars on each collar. He talking to a somewhat softer, more rotund pegasus stallion in ERAF blues with single stars on each of his collars, and both were looking somewhat pointedly in the pilots’ direction. The latter they recognized as the base commander, but the former was-

“General Storm Chaser…” Soot remarked, a little shaken from his usual laid back tone, “What is he doing here?”

“I don’t know.” responded Breeze, the wide grin she was boasting earlier now nowhere to be seen, though her ‘akzent’ was fast returning in her surprise, “Zhese dusty ground generals, what business do zhey have on an airbase, hmm? Das ist Quatsch.” she was clearly unsettled, going all the way into her native language to express her confusion.

Suddenly, the stallion they all recognized as the most senior officer in the Equestrian military nodded to one of his orderlies, a ‘lowly’ Lieutenant Colonel, who rapidly trotted up to the two bewildered pilots, eliciting salutes from them and others nearby as he stopped and spoke, “2nd Lieutenant Calm Breeze, Callsign ‘Valkyrie’?”

“Yes, Colonel?” the blonde-maned unicorn responded after a quickly suppressed gulp.

“The General would like to speak with you in the base commander’s office.” he spoke, quick and to the point, “You and your wing pony, 2nd Lieutenant Soot, Callsign ‘Alchemist’.” He added, erasing any bit of Soot’s normal relaxed attitude he had left. He then quickly turned about face and started off back towards the Generals, with the two pilots falling in after him.

Soot leaned over to Breeze and whispered, “Do you think this is about the music?”

Breeze just gulped again, her verbal response short and not so sweet, “Sheiße.”

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I lost count of how many times I nearly dozed off in the cozy comfort of the couch, with a small comforter keeping whatever energy I had earlier from being used now. In fact, I can't even recall the time. With the seconds merely melding into minutes, which also melded into hours. Passing by relatively smooth as one could be. Whilst the flight kept themselves busy, by mostly sharing stories of the 'old days' before they enlisted.

And Though my skull kept throbbing, albeit subdued now. I even spent awhile recalling my own past... which hardly improved my current mood by much. My childhood being the best of my life, until I eased into my rough teen years then into my travel years. All of that in a span of about fifteen years. Which lasted till about five years ago when I met her.

"The Boss.."

"Hey, PO! You say something?" Dammit... I really need to stop doing that.

"No, Sno.. I didn't. Now shush up, I'm tryin' to-"

"Good evenin', fellas!" I didn't even finish my sentence as the door of our room opened wide with a heavy crash, as it collided with the long ruined door-stop. My eyes snapped open as I stared at the intruders to our cozy lair. I knew who it was before they even entered, as I finally glimpsed the clock hanging by the window.

"Close the door, Hilts! It's bloody cold outside!" Shouted Shaft. I struggled to remain warm, however my efforts were short-lived as I snapped awake with life as my body responded harshly to the gust of freezing mountain air.

"Jesus fuck, shut the door you heartless fuck!" My hoarse shout earned merely a chuckle from Hilts and his goons, which were our 'fellow' flight from the second resident squadron here, the 409th TFS. Better known as the 'Cougars'.

"Well, too bad you lazy bastards. You'll be outside soon enough anyways, since your watch is up. If you still hurry, you filthy animals can still reach the mess before they close up for the night!"

A series of groans and curses escaped us all, as the thoughts of the cold sent shivers down our weary bones. Though, escaping from this room and being free from the banter of the 409th is worth it. That... and a stomach of warm chow with a few pain meds to numb the mind for the night. Then maybe, only maybe.. I'll survive another hour of Yoda's damned puns.

"Hey guys, need an Ark? 'Cause I Noah guy!"

"Shut the fuck up, Yoda!"

I shouldn't be posting under the influence of sleep-deprivation... Oh well!

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I looked up a lot of images for those posts!

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And they were unimportant to this war, please do not attempt it again on this thread.

There is the OOC thread for you to do that.

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(Rolls eyes) Yeah. War. Watch Battle Royale on Netflix and come back to me later.

"Damn, that was a good movie!" Nagisa grinned.

"You're just happy because...wait... the fuck is wrong with you!?" Everyone in the Rec room yelled at her.

"Well, the Death scenes were good. Especially the scene where--" Alicia attempted to defend Nagisa, but got interrupted.

"The four girls kill each other." Everyone finished.

One of the Base Officers yelled over. "The Commander wants you all in the briefing room."

"Yeah. I guess i'm off back to the submarine, where the cool kids are. Peace, nerds." Alicia laughed, before exiting.

"How do you stand them, Mizuki?" Albireo 5 asked.

"No idea." Mizuki shrugged. "Let's see what the commander wants us for."

When they got to the briefing room, an Osean Officer met them. "The briefing you are about to receive is Classified. Until further notice, you are not to divulge the operation to ANYONE. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" The Squadron said.

"Good. Follow me." The Officer said, walking into the briefing room.

I'll add more to this when I get the briefing from Smoers.

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"Fuel empty." Nocturne muttered glumly. Orion already felt the lost of power as the Phantom struggled.

She opened up communications again. "OFS Kestral, this is Stormrider one, we're running on fumes, permission to make emergency landing on your deck?"

For a second, Orion was tempted to just go for an approach anyway, but the radio crackled.

"Understood Stormrider one. We'll clear the airways, proceed for approach." Orion swung wide, making the turn and lining up quickly.

"Ball clear... Good to go!"

That was when the engines decided to cut out.

"Ah well, unpowered landings aren't hard." Orion fought the stick, as the Phantom wanted to nose up and belly flop. Behind her, she could hear Nocturne also struggling to hold the stick down.

"Kestral, my engines just cut out, coming in real hot."

The F-4 wobbled in its flight path.

"Hundred meters..."

"Got it!"

The wheels thumped onto the deck with enough force to slam the two pilots forward in their seats. The hook caught onto the third wire, and the Phantom was dragged to a stop.

Orion laid back in her seat, with her eyes closed, shaking off the effect of the hard landing. She gripped the controls in a vice, hooves shaking from the adrenaline high. The canopy slid open.

"You okay?" A human peeked into the cockpit and asked.

Orion groaned and looked up with a slight smile. "Textbook..."