Aces of World War III

[Grim327]

Chris overheard the major as he relayed the news, "Well at least the civilians are safe. As for the French, I'm not surprised the Russians didn't bother with them, given the French's wartime track record. So what's the word back here? Do we still have a military. or are we all that is left?" Chris replied as he poured himself a small amount of whiskey and began drinking.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

After Coup was done praying, he went back to his plane to fetch what little belongings he had stored on the A-10. He passed by the Officer's Club on the way there overhearing their discussions and Coup made it a point to get there after he had fetched his things.

He fetched a service ladder thanks to a few friendly maintenance crew members who was keeping their minds off the attack by playing Bridge. Coup went and grabbed his bag which carried a few personal effects like a picture of his father and mother who were most likely alive. His father was the last one to take this invasion lightly and it would take at least 2 companies of Russian Regulars to take his house. Another personal effect was a mangled bullet that had been made into a necklace. It was the same bullet that remained lodged inside his father's helmet during the war. Coup considered it a good luck charm and so did his father.

Coup fetched the bag and holstered his Beretta 92F and managed to walk a few paces before hearing some silent whispers coming from the parked Eurofighter Typhoon. The plane had Canadian markings but as Coup approached it he found the pilot whispering into something.

"Hey, you alright?" Coup asked as he approached the fighter, slowly.

 

[Doctor Infinity]

Spoiler: Hatchet v2.0

I decided to go in a pretty radically different direct with my character. If you prefer the old character design just say so and I'll use that instead. Also, the mentions of being a very skilled pilot are only there to explain how someone like this could exist in the military, this isn't going to be a Mary Sue character.

Name: Lieutenant Roger "Hatchet" Everton

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Nationality: American

Squadron & Aircraft of Choice: US Navy, 39th Fighter Squadron "Rough Riders" attached to the USS Theodore Roosevelt, F/A-18E Super Hornet

Appearance: 5'10". 155lbs. White. Short brown hair. Blue-green eyes. Average build. Clean shaven.

Personality: Roger was never meant for military service. Wise-cracking, disrespectful, and infamous for "winging it", Roger would have been dishonorably discharged a long time ago, if not for the fact that he is good at what he does and damn it the Navy is tired of playing second fiddle to the Air Force.

Background: Roger never planned to join the military, all he wanted was to make people laugh, so he had studied Theatre and hoped to be the next big star of stage and screen. But nobody starts on Broadway, so Roger took a job with the USO, performing one-man shows at military bases all over the country. One night, some of his buddies at a naval base talked Roger into having a go at the flight simulator, and he did better than someone who had never seen a cockpit before should. The Navy brass talked him into joining and before he knew it Roger was a Navy Pilot aboard the USS Theodore Roosevelt. His wit and willingness to use it did nothing to endear him with his superior officers, who would routinely send Roger off on "solo exercises", which were essentially their way of putting him in time out. Little did he know that these punishments would turn out to be his saving grace.

Roger was out on "solo exercises" when his radio went nuts with chatter from all the radio operators in the USS Theodore Roosevelt's battlegroup. All he could pieced together was that shit had hit the fan, before a white flash filled his vision. Roger banked his plane and booked it in the opposite direct of the Roosevelt.

He just kept flying north attempting to radio any other naval taskforce in the area until he received a signal directing him to a base in the Rockies.
"Well, what have I got to lose?" he thought and adjusted his heading.

Roger roughly set his Super Hornet down on the tarmac and cursed all runways built on solid ground. A mechanic informed him that the base's CO had gone to the Officer's Lounge, so he headed that way. Opening the door, Roger found a handful of people inside.
"Sorry I'm late folks. Traffic was terrible" he said with a smirk.
Roger then scanned the assembled crowd, found an army Major to be the highest ranking and turned to him.
"Lieutenant Roger Everton, sir. 39th Fighter Squadron off of the USS Theodore Roosevelt. United States Navy," he said, saluting. Turning back to the ragtag bunch of misfits before him, "Anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

 

[Athol]

Sam was leaning against the fuselage once again singing to herself, a habit she'd picked up as a child. Although she'd gone to the hanger to continue getting drunk, once she was up on her plane the beers seemed less interesting. So now here she was, eyes closed, singing. That was until a voice brought her back to reality.

"Hey, you alright?"

"'bout a much as anyone else would be in this shit show." She replied, silently pleased she was no longer slurring her words. Looking towards the sound she saw the man, an A-10 driver from his patches, approaching slowly. Goddamn it, are there no chicks here? She thought. Pushing her wants aside she smiled. "Hang on I'll come down and introduce myself."

Upon hitting the hanger floor, Sam remembered she"d left the beer behind. "Shit..." She muttered, looking around. Spying some ground crew nearby playing cards, she whistled. "HEY BOYS GOT SOME BEER FOR YA...STILL ON THE PLANE." One of the junior members was already moving by the time she finished talking, uttering a small "Thanks ma'am" as he passed. That finished, she sauntered over to the pilot. "Samantha Hickok, call me Shodan."

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

"Coup Lackland. Warlord." Coup sized up the rather "jovial" pilot in front of him. Besides the need for alcohol and the colorful language he hoped that her bite was much more dangerous than her bark. His eyes prying eyes pulled away from Sam for a second and looked on her plane. A CF-200 Eurofighter Typhoon by the looks of it and with a few emblems dotting along the plane one of which was the symbol for Operation Odyssey Dawn or otherwise known as the NATO intervention in Libya.

"You flew in Libya too? Good to see another experienced airman around here." Coup said adjusting his duffel bag in his hands. "You up for another drink?" He motioned to the elevator even though Coup wouldn't dare touch any sort of alcoholic beverage with a 10 foot pole.

 

[Athol]

"You flew in Libya too? Good to see another experienced airman around here. You up for another drink?"

The thought of more alcohol made her stomach turn a bit. Running a hand through her hair, she looked at Coup sheepishly. "A coffee maybe, I think I've had enough otherwise."

With a grimace and a sigh, she went on. "Yeah I was in Libya, flying strike missions against Gaddafi's forces...lost a good friend there. Did you ever hear of 'The Battle over Tobruk'? The flight I was in was heading home after some air-to-mud against artillery when we go bounced by eight fuckin' Su-35s. Which I gotta say surprised the fuck out of everyone, Intel said the best those haji could muster was probably some wheezy MiG-21s or maybe a -23. Anyways R.O.E. was to disengage and break for home. Chico, our element lead and his wing Dancer got out, but the Flankers got between them and us, me and my wing Deep. Well I said 'fuck it' and rushed the bastards. Over the course of it all I scored two with my Sidewinders and one for sure with my gun, but I did leave another prick smoking towards the deck. Deep I know got two before he got his ticket punched...those last two would'a had me, but a handful of Raptors saved my tight ass."

Burying the memories that threatened to resurface, Sam smiled at Coup. "So tell me Warlord, how's the 'hog? I always kinda liked the thought of flying a tank."

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

"Hmph, you've told a story so I guess it's my turn. 10 days into the operation and we intercepted parts of Gaddafi's coast guard bombarding the rebels forces off shore. One of them was a Nanuchka class corvette, nasty pieces of the cold war wrapped up with SAM missile launchers and flak guns to boot. My wing mates couldn't take the heat from the cruiser and bailed forcing me and a Navy P-3 to deal with two gun boats and one really pissed off Corvette." Coup looked back at the A-10 and smirked.

"The mechanics said that I took at least 23 pieces of shrapnel, and was missing the tip of my right wing from a missile. I still took the bastard out. One strafe run with my GAU-8 and the corvette was like a Swiss-cheese donut. The gunboats shot at me a bit more but soon they pulled out. The corvette capsized and I flew home a happy man." Coup returned to Sam. She seemed like a genuinely nice person with a flare of emotion it seems. "How's the Eurofighter? Since its Canadian, does it run on maple syrup?"

Before Sam could answer, Coup but his bag over his shoulder and began walking back to the elevator seeking some respite from this talk.

 

[Malyc]

Willow was flying her Eagle in formation with the rest of her wing. It was just another day, until suddenly explosions and emp bursts started working their way west towards the flight. She punched the throttle to full burner, as did the other 3 planes in formation with her.

"Lead to all fighters, push em harder!" Grim called, panic clear in his voice as blast after blast inexorably caught up to them. The aircraft drew apart, until a final shockwave caught them. Slowly, almost as if time ceased to matter, Willow watched it knock her companions out of the sky, until it brought her's down as well...

Willow started awake, gasping for breath, the nightmare strong enough to rouse her fully. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find threats that she was sure were closing in on her.

"Calm down, Banshee, it was just a dream." Willow whispered to herself, hoping that was truly the case. Gradually, she regained her composure.

Unable to fall back asleep, she decided to take a walk around the facility. Not really paying attention to where she was going, more focused on her fears than where her feet were taking her, Willow was somewhat surprised when she found herself in the hangar, next to her bird. She began to inspect the F-15, partly to ensure it was able to be scrambled at a moments notice, and partly to occupy her mind with something other than her fears.

Willow wound up sitting in between the tails, staring at the stenciled eagle on the opposite stabilizer, wondering if anyone had received news from the UK yet, and what the total casualties were.

 

[Redryhno]

Nickolai finished his final glass of vodka and headed to get something to eat. It was standard fare, but better than nothing. He tasted nothing as he ate, too worried over his family and the UK. The little bit of news he had gotten was enough to calm him however. The food more or less balanced out the alcohol in his system and he was just drunk enough to have little more than a slight accent.

He arrived at the hangar and began checking his fighter over, though there wasn't much to look at, it kept him busy. He finished checking it over and began wandering around, and saw a woman that if he had been any drunker, would've sworn it was his wife. He walked over and introduced himself to the woman sitting on the F-15, a nice enough fighter, but he preferred his Viper.

"Nickolai Gawrilov, you know anything about the UK? Beyond what the Major said?Please, I need to know."

 

[Malyc]

"Nickolai Gawrilov, you know anything about the UK? Beyond what the Major said?Please, I need to know."

"What news did the Major have? Was Lakenheath hit?" Willow was hopeful the news was good, because that would likely mean that her fellow pilots of the 493d were still alive.

"Sorry, I'm Lt. Willow O'donnell." She said, remembering her manners. "Just flew in from the UK, but I was already over the East coast when the bombs hit, so I probably know even less that you do about it. So, what did the major say?" Willow asked, as she walked over to the ladder and climbed down.

 

[Redryhno]

Nick sighed as he heard the news, but at least he knew he wasn't the only one with friends or family over there.

"Sorry, just that they got hit with nowhere near as much nuclear shit as us. There's still a good chance my family's still alive, right? Nevermind, so, you fly the Eagle? You like it ok? It works for you?"

 

[Malyc]

Willow could tell that Nick wasn't happy to hear that she didn't know anything about the situation. "I'm sure they're fine." She said, relieved the the UK wasn't hit all that hard.

"But yeah, I'm an Eagle driver. I love flying it, and there's nothing in the sky that can keep up with her under full burner." She looked back at the tail, focusing on the squadron emblem there.

"Everyone in my squadron got their callsign from a mythical monster. Mine's Banshee." Her eyes went a bit soft when she said this, still not convinced that they'd avoided getting hit.

Willow turned to face Nick. "So, you fly the falcon?" She asked, gesturing at the patches on his flight suit.

 

[Redryhno]

"So, you fly the falcon?"

He took his finger and flipped it back and forth, mock patronizing her. He smiled weakly, knowing that as much as he wanted it right, the time wasn't right to make any kind of jokes, even as weak as it was.

"Tch,tch,tch, it's obvious you've never flown one for any amount of time, missy. It's the Viper. Only the big brass calls it the Falcon anymore. Jus'call me Nick, callsign Ravwen. Not really many reasons for it beyond a joke that happened around the time I asked Carrie to marry me. It stuck, literally."

 

[Malyc]

Willow chuckled a bit at Nick's comment. "That's true, the trainers took one look at me and pretty much threw me at the Eagle. Never got to fly much else."

"Well, I'd better go get to know some of the other pilots. See you on the flight line!" She grabbed her duffel from behind the seat before heading to drop it off in her room. Willow wandered the base, figuring that she'd eventually run into somebody.

Passing the O Club, she heard a few people inside and decided to check it out.

 

[Grim327]

As Chris waited for the major to answer his questions, he figured that one drink was enough, who knows, they might be called up in the next minute. Being intoxicated at the time would put him in a bad spot to fly. So instead, he grabbed a coke from a vending machine, and sat back down. As he did so, a woman showed up at the door, "Well hello mam. Welcome to the Club, there's plenty of alcohol, but we're short on answers to questions."

 

[Malyc]

"Thank you." Willow responded to the gentleman. "I'm Willow, and ive really only got one question: What do we have stocked for munitions in this facility?"

Tired as she was, the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to start taking the fight back to the people who had orchestrated the attacks.

 

[Grim327]

"Not sure," Chris replied, "I haven't seen the armory yet. Although, I wouldn't mind having a better look at this place. There's no telling what kind of stuff we might find here. The name's Chris by the way, but my previous wing mates, god rest their souls, called me 'Rebel'." He then got up and headed for the door.

 

[Athol]

"How's the Eurofighter? Since its Canadian, does it run on maple syrup?"

"Ha ha ha, very funny yokel." Sam replied, rolling her eyes. "For the record the Tiffy is an absolute dream. Fast, agile, and can carry enough ordinance to seriously rearrange the countryside. If she were truly alive we'd already be married." Stepping into the elevator with Coup, she spent the rest of the short ride leaning against the wall. As she got off, she gave him a small smile. "Good to know we've got some heavy air-to-mud for when we hit back...catch you around Warlord."

Heading back to the O club, Sam saw something that made her heart flutter a bit. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the adrenalin from the past few hours, or maybe it was the fact that she hadn?t been laid in far too long, but she was really glad to see another woman. Damn, I wish I had some nicer clothes with me. She thought, as she approached the shorter woman. Jeans, t-shirt, runners, and a pistol in a sling holster, weren't exactly high on Sam's 'sexy first impression' clothing list...but you got to work with what you?ve got.

Stepping back inside the O club door, Sam caught up to the woman, an F-15 driver by the looks of it, and smiled. "Hi, Samantha 'Shodan' Hickok...boy I'm glad to see you. The thought of being the only woman here was giving me the creeps me out."

In her mind, another war raged. You wanna go back to my quarters and fuck 'til we can't move?No! Bad libido, we've got to be calm! But I'm horny NOW!!!

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

Roman chose a chair to sit down and was sipping at a glass of water when a woman walked in, one of the few female pilots that had turned up. He just sat quietly, something unusual for him, as Chris, or 'Rebel', introduced himself to her. Roman considered standing up and greeting her before the drunkard from before walked in.

Shocking, thought Roman, I thought she'd be staggering, if not crawling given how much she drank earlier.

 

[Doctor Infinity]

Roger spun around to face the man who had just identified himself as Chris,
"Did you say previous wing mates? I know something sent the Roosevelt to the bottom, but just how badly did we get hit?!"