"Lead, 2. Rudder hit, still operational."
"Lead, 4. Superficial hit to wing, still good to fight!"
No 7. never got the chance to reply, the 20mm round striking his active missile dead on. The missile detonated, ripping into the wing of the Flanker and causing a chain reaction amongst the other missiles and fuel stores of the aircraft. All this happened in milliseconds, one moment the fighter was there, the next it was simply a ball of flaming wreckage on a crash course with the ground.
"Strigon Team, Lead. Throttles to full burn, and salvo fire all long range missiles! Pusk Pusk Pusk Pusk!" Lead called as he thumbed the firing stud four times, each press of the button releasing a missile larger than an adult person, packed with 250kg of High Explosives. The remaining fighters followed suit, 44 streaks of vapour left by the missiles as they forged ahead of the fighters on rocket motors propelling them to Mach 8.
"Oh shit..." David said as he oncoming streaks of death.