Fury
Two hundred lancing, brilliant streaks of like cascaded across the sunny skies of Britain. Two formations locked in a deadly game of chicken. The initial bullrush and 'joisting' with the 109's could barely be processed by Tom's mind. He thought he saw his target's left wing grazed by his own bullets, though the twin cannons of the 109 continued to blare. His radio was filled with chatter, or more appropriately worded: chaos.
"Right wing's hit! Lost cannon two!"
"Banking hard to the left!"
"Holy shit! Holy shit!"
"Keep it together, damnit!"
Still, the frontal assault appeared to be working from Tom's perspective. The superior firepower from the equally matched in numbers Spitfire's seemed to be giving the Germans room for pause. A few seconds into the charge, after what seemed like an eternity to Tom, the enemy flight broke formation and curved in two directions, heading back to their bombers.
"Dogfighting time! Woooooo yeah!"
"You've got it! Keep those fighters off the two teams about to attack the bombers!" Captain Harness cried.
"German corpses are all the same," Jacob radioed. "Let's wipe out this whole god damned squadron!"
Tom shivered in his cockpit. The cycle of hatred... the cycle of hatred...
Yet, he had a job to do, and good people to protect below.
"Forgive me for this, Dashie," he sighed, before increasing his speed and quickly finding a target.
The German was aware of him immediately, and was quickly aware of Tom's machine gun fire. His six cannons roared like a thunderstorm, sending streaks of like towards the enemy. He quickly swerved to the left before performing a downward roll. Tom,his reflexes hardened during training, quickly followed, continuing to fire.
Two planes flew by him at that, Captain Harness was chasing down a German plane marked with white streaks: an Ace.
"I've got this one Tom, keep on yours! You're doing fine!" he radioed.
Don't need to tell me twice.
The German pilot swerved and swerved, occasionally performing sporadic rolls. He was an experienced pilot, and had probably flown a mission before, but Tom was able to keep up for him for the most part. He just hoped he could down this plane before-
"Got someone on my tail!" Arty called over the radio. "I need some help! Quick!"
"Arty, Dive, you bloody fool! You're heading right for the bomber line! They'll cut you to ribbons!" Jacob called.
"D-Dive?! Gotcha!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Tom caught Arty diving, yet that distraction was all the German pilot needed to pull a hard left towards the same damned bomber line.
"Shit!" Tom hissed. "Shit shit shit..."
"Tom! Do not pursue!" Captain Harness cried. "Wait for the backup to arrive! They'll keep the bomber's gunners busy! Do no pursue!"
It would have been the wise thing to do. It would have been the smart thing to do... but...
Ten Years Prior
Both Tom and Rainbow Dash were sitting in one of his school classes, Rainbow observing old film footage of World War 1 with awe.
"Pfffft, you humans can be such pansies sometimes."
"Excuse me?" Tom said, lifting an eyebrow.
She pointed towards the screen. "Look at that! They have the perfect opportunity to charge. The enemy won't expect it... They're just being gutless. If there were pegasi there..."
Tom rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah... I getcha."
Tom took a deep breath. "God damnit, Dashie..."
She had a point though. The gunners of those bombers would not be prepared for a lone fighter to pursue the German one. They were likely bracing themselves for the two squadrons of British planes that were fast approaching on the horizon.
"Alright, here we go! Time to be a pegasus!" Tom cried.
"Every last German plane you take down is one life saved on our side... and you might not even need to kill them to do it."
Tom gritted his teeth, wiped off off the sweat gathering on his forehead, and took a deep breath.
"YEEEEEEHAWWWWWWW!"
He thundered his plane forward, chasing the 109 towards its friendly bombing group. True to Tom's thoughts, the turrets of the bombers were all trained on the approaching British squadrons, those squadrons designated to take out them.
And the least prepared of them of all was the 109.
Tom caught him when he passed between two bombers, lined his sights up with the pilot's wings, and fired. Unable to manuever easily, the German pilot could do nothing except accept the hit.
It wasn't brilliant by any means, just a few quick flashes on the wing Tom has targeted, but it was enough. His wing was gone and he was soon spiraling downward, nearly flying into one of his bombers as he did so. Tom swallowed hard for a moment, wincing at this, before he realized the German had opened his cockpit and was parachuting towards the ground.
"YES!" Tom roared, not even realizing he was broadcasting to all frequency.
"TOM! WATCH THE FUCK OUT!" Arty cried.
Tom's eyes widened. The tail gunners of the two bombers were now trained on him. He was a sitting duck, and they had enough lead to tear him to pieces. Tom gritted his teeth, preparing to perform a desperate maneuver out of the way, but not before...
"SUCK IT, YOU BLOODY WANKERS!"
In screamed Squadron 93, the backup squadron meant to take out the bombers. Before their tail guns could shoot, their sides were completely lit up by over eighteen cannons, desecrating them and turning them into two flaming fireballs.
Sighing in relief, though wincing at the sight of flaming Germans leaping out of the bomber, Tom swerved off course, now flying the opposite way from them. The battle was raging on all sides now. Squadron 93 and 111 were busy tearing at the bombers, while his own squadron was busy engaging the fighters. Tracers and planes flew about in chaotic patterns, and any could meet their fate at a moment's notice.
Just like Tom.
"Tom! On your six!"
He didn't need to be told twice. Immediately, an insurmountable amount of tracer fire was overtaking him. Two 109's were on his tail, apparently angry about their fallen comrade.
His eyes widened.
"Jacob! Break off and help Tom!" Captain Harness barked.
"Negative! Almost got a bloke..."
"Forget him! This is an order!"
"Almost got him..."
And the 109's had almost got Tom.
"God damn you, Jacob! Artie, help him out!"
"Already on it."
Immediately, a few more tracers were flying by Tom's plane, but they were not the same pattern as the German's nor as close.
Tom looked back only to see a burning plane falling out of the sky, Artie's plane screaming behind him. However, the second German fighter was still hot on Tom's tail. Tom brought his plane into a spin, but the German copied with superhuman skill. It was then he noticed that this plane had the same markings as the one he had seen Captain Harness chasing earlier. This was the German Ace. He must have lost the Captain.
"Hang in there, Tom!" Artie screamed.
Yet he could think of no way to evade him... no way except...
Five years prior.
"Check it out, Tom! I've finally got it!"
Dashie grinned widely as she hovered over the beautiful clouds of her home city. A place straight out of a mythical realm that belonged to Tom's dreams.
"Got what?! Did you get the Split-S?"
"Hell yeah I did!" Dashie grinned, before quickly performing the maneuver, her form repelling downward.
"You're not the only one with wings now, Dashie!" Tom cried to himself, the sweat from his hands now dripping onto the cockpit floor. "Can't let ya show me up!"
And so he tried the impossible: performing a Split-S. And at that moment, many things happened at once.
The German plane took a shot, which would have gone straight through Tom's cockpit if he hadn't performed the maneuver. However, instead, it grazed his wing, just as he did to the German earlier, taking out his left wing. However, this wasn't what shocked Tom the most. Though Artie's plane was a bit away, he could see inside the strange 'wiccan's' cockpit. And all he saw were two glowing eyes.
And suddenly, a bolt of lightning shot forth from his plane towards the Ace's, annihilating it.
Tom gasped, unable to comprehend what had just happened, before his plane went into a spiral.
"Going down! Going down!" Tom cried.
"Bail out! Gogogo!" Artie cried.
Tom gritted his teeth, unhooked his cockpit door, and did just that. Soon, he was barelling into the sky, however... somehow, he managed going down headfirst... and swinging about, the wing of his own Spitfire nailed him in the head.
The last thing he heard was the cries of Captain Harness on the radio before things went to black, as well as his own, bleeding last word: "Dashie..."
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I LIKE Artie... packing technological AND magical heat.
Kinda want to see him arriving in his spirit in the spitfire he was just flying you know?
I'm glad to see the return of Wings.
Surely, this isn't the end?
...Spitfires are single engine fighters.
So are BF 109's
This... This cannot be the end.. I WONT ALLOW IT!!!
You would think having a goddamn wizard in a WWII dogfight would be just a little bit unfair.
Uh...military people? Won't disobeying his orders get him court martialed?
2372134
A different time and under stress. There would have been consequences, but this situation very well could have happened.
Good story, though a bit sloppy in the grammar. The core of the story seems to have changed, but it was a surprising twist. Can't wait to see more.
2372265
Oh okay.
Based on your last chapter, I am assuming you meant to type "Captain Harkness." This chapter you have typed it as "Captain Harness" every single time. I assume you are meaning to type Harkness?
DEMON NAZI!!!!
2372946
Umm... the guy who did the lightning was Arty. A suspected and now pretty much confirmed friggin Wiccan ready to zap your plot out of the sky if you threaten Tom
2376794 huh must have misread
umm arty wouldn't happen to be a Teranid would he?
The aircraft used during the Blitz were Heinkel HE111's, which had no rear guns, only guns on the dorsal and ventral surfaces. That, and I'm pretty sure that a Spitfire wouldn't be dogfighting. Hawker Hurricanes would clear the escort screen, and Spitfires would engage the bombers.
And the last line is so, SO incredibly cheesy. But otherwise, bar a few factual errors, this story is looking pretty interesting.
2372946
Best kind. Other than nazi zombie
I'm friends with a wiccan. I cheat.
I hate to be that guy but WWII pilots didn't have parachutes. You'd have to see if you could steer for a soft crash and pray to god.
2391667 Nope, Silent Bob's got it. Hurricanes aren't as fast, nor as agile as the Spitfire. Then again, you take what you can get...
2417875 WTF are you talking about, yes they did.