Aces of World War III
- Thread starter PrinceOfShapeir
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@Malyc: But you can barely even see the driv...
...ohhh, you mean the car.
Yeah, that's prettydamn awesome.
...ohhh, you mean the car.
Yeah, that's prettydamn awesome.
I apologize for missing my own timetable for starting this, some stuff cropped up that's had me distracted. I should have it up before Wednesday. Again, apologies.
@Prince: It's cool, in fact if it's alright, I will use this extra time to "tweak" my character sheet a bit if that is okay with you.
I tweaked this character sheet a little bit more. Criticisms and suggestions are welcome.
Name: Capt.Coup Lackland
Callsign: Warlord
Age: 35
Nationality: American
Squadron & Aircraft of Choice: 23rd Wing, 75th Fighter Squadron, "Tiger Sharks"- A10 Thunderbolt II
Appearance: Standing at 5'8 and 129lbs Coup is at his physical prime with a firm build. He has short, brown hair on the top of his head with clean-shaven face. He has the latin words "Ferre" tattooed on his left arm and "Ulscici" on the right. He has fiery, green eyes and calloused hands. He has the look of a caveman with his slight overbite and sharp brow but he is far from it.
Personality: Coup is calm and reserved both in and out of the cockpit of his A10. He can communicate with others but he has an air of detachment and coldness to him but really he does try to the trust the others around him and even attach a strong sense of camaraderie. Most of the time though, Coup is aggressive and often one to try and prove himself in battle by trying to one-up all the other pilots around him. Coup does a decent job masking his underlying aggressiveness and will stop if ordered too, just don't expect him to willingly do so.
Background: Coup was born in Atlanta, Georgia to a father whose living room is adorned with medals and memorabilia of the "war" that he claims made him a man. Coup's father was a man too proud of the things he's done and Coup was raised by it. The need to prove one's self was engraved early into Coup's head and as a result Coup's aggressiveness was evident all throughout his life. He never once questioned his father's wishes for him even when he sent Coup away to military school without him knowing.
Coup underwent Air ROTC training and excelled as a cadet. He earned his wings and became a pilot to the 75th fighter squadron where he was trained to fly the A-10 Thunderbirds into combat. Multiple times he was and is known for his vivaciousness to excel in his career. Coup often it is noted as hyper-aggressiveness but his quiet nature baffles most people.
Coup took part in Operation Odyssey Dawn which was part of the US-led NATO military intervention into the Libyan Conflict. During day 10 of the operation, Coup and a few other pilots intercepted a Libyan naval forces off the coast which had attacked civilian villages. Even through a hailstorm of flack, Coup strafed the lead vessel with the deadly 30mm cannon of his A-10 damaging the ship immensely. Two other smaller craft were sunk that day with the lead ship, which turned out to be a cruiser, being forced to abandon ship. He was satisfied to have taken part in the battle. Coup was satisfied with the outcome although he feels like he could have taken on such a meager navy without as much help from the other coalition pilots. Before NATO took over and Coup left Libya, Coup earned two more confirmed kills against the Libyan forces. Both were armored vehicles and both were killed using the A-10's cannon which ripped through the heavy armor like nothing.
Before the bombs dropped, Coup was conducting a fly-by testing run of the A-10's cannon on a testing range a few weeks after his return from Libya.
Callsign: Warlord
Age: 35
Nationality: American
Squadron & Aircraft of Choice: 23rd Wing, 75th Fighter Squadron, "Tiger Sharks"- A10 Thunderbolt II
Appearance: Standing at 5'8 and 129lbs Coup is at his physical prime with a firm build. He has short, brown hair on the top of his head with clean-shaven face. He has the latin words "Ferre" tattooed on his left arm and "Ulscici" on the right. He has fiery, green eyes and calloused hands. He has the look of a caveman with his slight overbite and sharp brow but he is far from it.
Personality: Coup is calm and reserved both in and out of the cockpit of his A10. He can communicate with others but he has an air of detachment and coldness to him but really he does try to the trust the others around him and even attach a strong sense of camaraderie. Most of the time though, Coup is aggressive and often one to try and prove himself in battle by trying to one-up all the other pilots around him. Coup does a decent job masking his underlying aggressiveness and will stop if ordered too, just don't expect him to willingly do so.
Background: Coup was born in Atlanta, Georgia to a father whose living room is adorned with medals and memorabilia of the "war" that he claims made him a man. Coup's father was a man too proud of the things he's done and Coup was raised by it. The need to prove one's self was engraved early into Coup's head and as a result Coup's aggressiveness was evident all throughout his life. He never once questioned his father's wishes for him even when he sent Coup away to military school without him knowing.
Coup underwent Air ROTC training and excelled as a cadet. He earned his wings and became a pilot to the 75th fighter squadron where he was trained to fly the A-10 Thunderbirds into combat. Multiple times he was and is known for his vivaciousness to excel in his career. Coup often it is noted as hyper-aggressiveness but his quiet nature baffles most people.
Coup took part in Operation Odyssey Dawn which was part of the US-led NATO military intervention into the Libyan Conflict. During day 10 of the operation, Coup and a few other pilots intercepted a Libyan naval forces off the coast which had attacked civilian villages. Even through a hailstorm of flack, Coup strafed the lead vessel with the deadly 30mm cannon of his A-10 damaging the ship immensely. Two other smaller craft were sunk that day with the lead ship, which turned out to be a cruiser, being forced to abandon ship. He was satisfied to have taken part in the battle. Coup was satisfied with the outcome although he feels like he could have taken on such a meager navy without as much help from the other coalition pilots. Before NATO took over and Coup left Libya, Coup earned two more confirmed kills against the Libyan forces. Both were armored vehicles and both were killed using the A-10's cannon which ripped through the heavy armor like nothing.
Before the bombs dropped, Coup was conducting a fly-by testing run of the A-10's cannon on a testing range a few weeks after his return from Libya.
Chapter One:
And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer. - Revelation 6:2
And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer. - Revelation 6:2
North American Aerospace Defense Command
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado.
Sharp, piercing claxons began sounding all through the complex. At the command center, a lieutenant was hunched over the controls, barely keeping panic out of his voice. "Satellite telemetry confirms, general. The Russians have launched. Four hundred fifty-six missiles launching from Siberia, dozens more in the Pacific and Atlantic, on course to hit every country in NATO."Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado.
Cold sweat began running down General Whitney Morris' neck. "Get me the President. Transmit this telemetry to every airbase and missile site in the country, we need our interceptors -now-."
For the first time, the United States of America went to DEFCON 1. All across the world, bombers were fueled, fighters went into the air, and missile sites prepared to launch. The End had come at last. For nearly seventy years, the world had teetered on the brink, just waiting for the right moment, and now it had come. Armageddon, the end of the world.
Across the world, the bright red roses of nuclear fire bloomed, heralds of the deaths of millions. EM Pulses darkened vast nations, and the blue-white pulses of neutron bombs were the herald of sudden deaths for the lucky, and a slow, lingering, agonizing death by radiation poisoning for those less lucky. Nerve gas flowed, pouring into the lungs of men, women, and children, choking the life from infants in their cradles.
And one by one, the retaliation efforts failed. Missiles lazily fell from the sky, splashing into the ocean or impacting in the depths of Siberia. Fighters and bombers were intercepted and shot down, subs blown out of the water. Death reigned over the world, but it was not as some had thought the end. Some were fortunate enough to survive. Some were still ready to fight - for revenge, for justice, for freedom.
Nestled in the Canadian Rockies, a signal rang out across the land, an encrypted message only comprehensible to NATO fighters. A call for the last defenders of the free world to gather and defend their homes.
"Gunfighter 2, this is Mountain Home AFB, do you copy?!!" An excited radio operator exclaimed over Chris's helmet.
"Roger, Mountain Home, what's the problem?" Chris replied in his southern drawl with his heart's pulse beginning to rise.
"Gunfighter 2, the Russians have launched their ICMBs! We have a missile heading straight for us, you CANNOT return to base, you need to find another way to. . ." The radio operator shouted before being cut off to static.
"Mountain Home, this is Gunfighter 2, over. . . Mountain Home, do you read? Damn it." Chris said under his breath. The news of the Russians making the first move tumbled in his mind. So today is the start of World War 3? If there is a world to fight for. He thought to himself.
Chris continued to fly forward, while turning his plane a few degrees every couple of minutes. He then heard a message come over the radio. He didn't understand at first, for he wasn't expecting it. The message repeated itself, and this time Chris got it. It told him to go to some base in the Canadian Rockies. Good, at least I don't need to fly all the way across the country to get to it. Chris thought. With the help of his GPS, and the coordinates that the message had, Chris was soon making his way toward the possibly last friendly base in the world.
"Roger, Mountain Home, what's the problem?" Chris replied in his southern drawl with his heart's pulse beginning to rise.
"Gunfighter 2, the Russians have launched their ICMBs! We have a missile heading straight for us, you CANNOT return to base, you need to find another way to. . ." The radio operator shouted before being cut off to static.
"Mountain Home, this is Gunfighter 2, over. . . Mountain Home, do you read? Damn it." Chris said under his breath. The news of the Russians making the first move tumbled in his mind. So today is the start of World War 3? If there is a world to fight for. He thought to himself.
Chris continued to fly forward, while turning his plane a few degrees every couple of minutes. He then heard a message come over the radio. He didn't understand at first, for he wasn't expecting it. The message repeated itself, and this time Chris got it. It told him to go to some base in the Canadian Rockies. Good, at least I don't need to fly all the way across the country to get to it. Chris thought. With the help of his GPS, and the coordinates that the message had, Chris was soon making his way toward the possibly last friendly base in the world.
It wasn't hard not to see the plumes of death and destruction rising from what used to be the Moody Air force Base in Georgia. Coup switched from channel to channel to try and get into contact with anybody. He even thought about contacting civilian channels but from the looks of it, the attack has spread all throughout the Eastern Seaboard. What made it even more haunting was the lack of screaming or the final rasps of a dying air control officer but only silence throughout most of the channels.
He banked his plane trying to see if he could spot any survivors, any other planes that might have missed the huge EMP blasts but there were none. For all he knew, Coup was the only flying plane in the area.
"It's finally happened..." Coup thought as he tried to find something, anything. Fuel wasn't a concern. He had only just filled the A-10 and even at its lumbering speed, the craft could easily reach anywhere in the United States, Mexico, and maybe even Canada. But from the looks of it, all major air bases and airports were shut down; silence on all boards. Coup contemplated landing on a flat plain and try to figure out what the hell had happened or maybe even who the hell could. China was a large factor but even at their economical speeds, how could they have developed or let alone coordinate such a massive strike. Terrorists were ruled out which left Russia. He had heard something about in fighting on their soil and a probable coup.
Then something came up. An encrypted message from the Canadian Rockies. The message seemed legitimate, not ringing any bells or whistles as he received it. The message wasn't a lot but it was something. Whatever it was, it promised Coup a chance to strike back or at least to know who could have attacked the US. Coup wasn't angry but revenge festered deep within him and he wanted a chance to strike back at whoever did this.
Coup turned his plane towards the Rockies and flew straight there but he made sure to avoid the major cities, and destroyed bases. He didn't want to be distracted or get spotted by the foe that attacked their nation. Not only that but he stayed on Radio Silence until he got to the Rockies in case anyone was trying to listen in and seek out any remaining aircraft. It's what Coup would have done.
After sometime, Coup was greeted to snowy peaks and pointed mountain tops of the Rockies were the message came from. It looked like he was alone for the most part but he checked periodically if he was followed or tailed. Coup wouldn't be surprised if the government had rallied the last of their forces in an attempt to fight another fight or at least salvage a working air force and he even outright expected it to be. Soon he spotted the soft, blinking lights of an outpost, nestled within the mountains. Coup got on his comms and switched to the channel that sent out the message despite his gut instinct not to.
"Outpost, do you copy?" Coup asked into the radio hoping for a answer back.
He banked his plane trying to see if he could spot any survivors, any other planes that might have missed the huge EMP blasts but there were none. For all he knew, Coup was the only flying plane in the area.
"It's finally happened..." Coup thought as he tried to find something, anything. Fuel wasn't a concern. He had only just filled the A-10 and even at its lumbering speed, the craft could easily reach anywhere in the United States, Mexico, and maybe even Canada. But from the looks of it, all major air bases and airports were shut down; silence on all boards. Coup contemplated landing on a flat plain and try to figure out what the hell had happened or maybe even who the hell could. China was a large factor but even at their economical speeds, how could they have developed or let alone coordinate such a massive strike. Terrorists were ruled out which left Russia. He had heard something about in fighting on their soil and a probable coup.
Then something came up. An encrypted message from the Canadian Rockies. The message seemed legitimate, not ringing any bells or whistles as he received it. The message wasn't a lot but it was something. Whatever it was, it promised Coup a chance to strike back or at least to know who could have attacked the US. Coup wasn't angry but revenge festered deep within him and he wanted a chance to strike back at whoever did this.
Coup turned his plane towards the Rockies and flew straight there but he made sure to avoid the major cities, and destroyed bases. He didn't want to be distracted or get spotted by the foe that attacked their nation. Not only that but he stayed on Radio Silence until he got to the Rockies in case anyone was trying to listen in and seek out any remaining aircraft. It's what Coup would have done.
After sometime, Coup was greeted to snowy peaks and pointed mountain tops of the Rockies were the message came from. It looked like he was alone for the most part but he checked periodically if he was followed or tailed. Coup wouldn't be surprised if the government had rallied the last of their forces in an attempt to fight another fight or at least salvage a working air force and he even outright expected it to be. Soon he spotted the soft, blinking lights of an outpost, nestled within the mountains. Coup got on his comms and switched to the channel that sent out the message despite his gut instinct not to.
"Outpost, do you copy?" Coup asked into the radio hoping for a answer back.
This.... is fucked up. Glad I got in before these bombs hit.
Nick thought to himself as the radio operator back at base suddenly cut off. The smoke from countless fires created a thick black haze which he flew through, hoping to see some sign of life, or even a building still standing, on the ground. But there was none to be seen and the NATO message came through the channels.
Good thing Carrie and Amelia weren't here, they've gotta be on the ground in England by now, right? They wouldn't be targeted by this, would they? There's no reason for it. NO, stop worrying about them for right now, just get yourself safe, then start looking for them.
The message called for all pilots to turn towards some Canadian base in the mountains, it repeated it a few more times over the next few minutes before stopping completely. Nickolai turned his plane a few degrees west and attempted to stay above the normal height for pilots, luckily it was a somewhat cloudy day over the state of Montana, and he was able to stay out of sight of the ground. He entered the coordinates and relied on his GPS, instinct, and hope drive him onwards, towards the base.
Nick thought to himself as the radio operator back at base suddenly cut off. The smoke from countless fires created a thick black haze which he flew through, hoping to see some sign of life, or even a building still standing, on the ground. But there was none to be seen and the NATO message came through the channels.
Good thing Carrie and Amelia weren't here, they've gotta be on the ground in England by now, right? They wouldn't be targeted by this, would they? There's no reason for it. NO, stop worrying about them for right now, just get yourself safe, then start looking for them.
The message called for all pilots to turn towards some Canadian base in the mountains, it repeated it a few more times over the next few minutes before stopping completely. Nickolai turned his plane a few degrees west and attempted to stay above the normal height for pilots, luckily it was a somewhat cloudy day over the state of Montana, and he was able to stay out of sight of the ground. He entered the coordinates and relied on his GPS, instinct, and hope drive him onwards, towards the base.
I got a little secret for ya, I never sleep when comes the night
But every time I smack my fingers I switch back into the light
My moon belongs to your sun, your fire is burning my mind
Is it love or is it lust? Something that I just can't describe...
Sam was in a good mood, singing softly to herself, she was at altitude cruising back to Comox after a weeklong exercise at Cold Lake. Due to a technical SNAFU she'd been unable to depart with the rest of 411 Squadron, but she didn't care, she was on her way home to well deserved leave.
Her reverie was shattered when a call boomed in on the guard frequency. "ALL STATIONS, ALL STATIONS. DEFCON ONE REPEAT WE ARE AT DEFCON ONE MULTIPLE LAUNCHES DETECTE..." The transmission was cut off as Sam began to see brilliant flashes south of her. Oh God...they finally did it. She thought...Nuclear war. She watched in mute horror as flashes dotted down the West Coast. Comox, Esquimalt, Bremerton, Whidbey Island. She named the flashes she saw.
"Get it together *****." Sam swore, shaking her head. Granted her entire squadron was most likely dead as were thousands of others, but now was not the time to break down. With her scope clear, she began a racetrack pattern while transmitting. "This is Breaker Six, does anybody copy? Over...I repeat this is Breaker Six, is anybody out there? Over."
Minutes passed with no response. Sam was going over plans in her head for where to go. She had fuel, but no heading. All at once she began receiving; it wasn't a familiar signal, but it was coming in on a secure encrypted channel, and right now that was good enough for her. Getting a bearing she broke south over the Rockies towards the origin of the broadcast.
But every time I smack my fingers I switch back into the light
My moon belongs to your sun, your fire is burning my mind
Is it love or is it lust? Something that I just can't describe...
Sam was in a good mood, singing softly to herself, she was at altitude cruising back to Comox after a weeklong exercise at Cold Lake. Due to a technical SNAFU she'd been unable to depart with the rest of 411 Squadron, but she didn't care, she was on her way home to well deserved leave.
Her reverie was shattered when a call boomed in on the guard frequency. "ALL STATIONS, ALL STATIONS. DEFCON ONE REPEAT WE ARE AT DEFCON ONE MULTIPLE LAUNCHES DETECTE..." The transmission was cut off as Sam began to see brilliant flashes south of her. Oh God...they finally did it. She thought...Nuclear war. She watched in mute horror as flashes dotted down the West Coast. Comox, Esquimalt, Bremerton, Whidbey Island. She named the flashes she saw.
"Get it together *****." Sam swore, shaking her head. Granted her entire squadron was most likely dead as were thousands of others, but now was not the time to break down. With her scope clear, she began a racetrack pattern while transmitting. "This is Breaker Six, does anybody copy? Over...I repeat this is Breaker Six, is anybody out there? Over."
Minutes passed with no response. Sam was going over plans in her head for where to go. She had fuel, but no heading. All at once she began receiving; it wasn't a familiar signal, but it was coming in on a secure encrypted channel, and right now that was good enough for her. Getting a bearing she broke south over the Rockies towards the origin of the broadcast.
Willow had just gone feet dry over the east coast of the US when the call of DEFCON 1 was relayed over the radio. The Russians had just unleashed their arsenal of nukes and WMDs on NATO military targets. The Eagle she was flying had most of its weapons removed to make room for the external fuel tanks needed to make the Trans-Atlantic flight from Lakenheath AFB to Nellis AFB in Nevada, so she was armed only with the standard load for the 20mm cannon, as well as 2 wingtip mounted sidewinders.
She checked her guages, saw that she was now flying on internal fuel, and so jettisoned the external tanks to lower drag and increase the range that her aircraft could fly. "Tower, this is Reaper 3 en route to Nellis. What's the situation, over?" Willow called over the channel.
"ICBMs inbound, looks like they're not planning on leaving any bases untouched. Reccomend you continue west-northwest to avoid the majority. Good luck, and Godspeed." The final words of a man with no hope of surviving...
Ah shit... this is really happening, isn't it? Keep calm, you're in the air, out of range of the blasts as long as you stay away from anywhere military. She thought. Yeah, but where am I gonna be able to land? I've got barely enough fuel to make the west coast...
Passing over the Midwest, Willow received a message over an encrypted channel, giving coordinates to an airbase deep in the Canadian Rockies, calling any remaining NATO fighters. Its gonna be close... That's right on the far edge of my fuel range.
Willow flew her Eagle as close to the service ceiling as possible, as the thinner air would allow her just enough (she hoped) range to safely makethe airbase. "NATO airbase, this is Reaper 3 requesting clearance to land. I'm flying on fumes."
She checked her guages, saw that she was now flying on internal fuel, and so jettisoned the external tanks to lower drag and increase the range that her aircraft could fly. "Tower, this is Reaper 3 en route to Nellis. What's the situation, over?" Willow called over the channel.
"ICBMs inbound, looks like they're not planning on leaving any bases untouched. Reccomend you continue west-northwest to avoid the majority. Good luck, and Godspeed." The final words of a man with no hope of surviving...
Ah shit... this is really happening, isn't it? Keep calm, you're in the air, out of range of the blasts as long as you stay away from anywhere military. She thought. Yeah, but where am I gonna be able to land? I've got barely enough fuel to make the west coast...
Passing over the Midwest, Willow received a message over an encrypted channel, giving coordinates to an airbase deep in the Canadian Rockies, calling any remaining NATO fighters. Its gonna be close... That's right on the far edge of my fuel range.
Willow flew her Eagle as close to the service ceiling as possible, as the thinner air would allow her just enough (she hoped) range to safely makethe airbase. "NATO airbase, this is Reaper 3 requesting clearance to land. I'm flying on fumes."
It didn't take a genius to figure out why this airbase had been spared - it was damn near invisible. Looked to be a complex built into a mountain. The hangar bays looked to be concealed, although they were currently open, admitting them. One by one, the fighters landed in the massive hangar.
And massive it was. This place had clearly been designed for more than just a few fighters, the ceiling high enough to fit a decent sized zeppelin, broad enough for a squadron to take off in formation, and deep enough to house a decent chunk of the United States' air power. By the looks of this place, it could have shrugged off a direct strike from a thermonuclear bomb without causing much more than light trembling.
They weren't alone. A few others had made it to the hangar before them, and a trickle of others were arriving. Canadian military personnel, it looked like. Some civilians as well. All told, no more than perhaps a hundred people. And no sign of anyone running this place, although it appeared well maintained, and there were valuable resources here - massive tanks against the wall that almost certainly held fuel, massive doors with 'ARMORY' emblazoned on them, wide enough that you could have slid Tsar Bomba through them.
After waiting for perhaps an hour, a nearly invisible seam in the rock split open, revealing an elevator. A man stepped out - an old man, grey, his face heavily lined. He walked with a heavy stoop, but his eyes were sharp and clear. "Is...is this it? We built this massive complex...and this is all that comes? A few dozens? Jesus Christ in Heaven...I knew a single centralized evacuation point was a bad idea, especially this far out in the boonies." He sighed, gripped his face with his free hand. "God damn it."
"I'm Major Gabriel Watson. United States Army. Commanding Officer and Caretaker of Shelter Base. Who the hell are you?"
And massive it was. This place had clearly been designed for more than just a few fighters, the ceiling high enough to fit a decent sized zeppelin, broad enough for a squadron to take off in formation, and deep enough to house a decent chunk of the United States' air power. By the looks of this place, it could have shrugged off a direct strike from a thermonuclear bomb without causing much more than light trembling.
They weren't alone. A few others had made it to the hangar before them, and a trickle of others were arriving. Canadian military personnel, it looked like. Some civilians as well. All told, no more than perhaps a hundred people. And no sign of anyone running this place, although it appeared well maintained, and there were valuable resources here - massive tanks against the wall that almost certainly held fuel, massive doors with 'ARMORY' emblazoned on them, wide enough that you could have slid Tsar Bomba through them.
After waiting for perhaps an hour, a nearly invisible seam in the rock split open, revealing an elevator. A man stepped out - an old man, grey, his face heavily lined. He walked with a heavy stoop, but his eyes were sharp and clear. "Is...is this it? We built this massive complex...and this is all that comes? A few dozens? Jesus Christ in Heaven...I knew a single centralized evacuation point was a bad idea, especially this far out in the boonies." He sighed, gripped his face with his free hand. "God damn it."
"I'm Major Gabriel Watson. United States Army. Commanding Officer and Caretaker of Shelter Base. Who the hell are you?"