Blazing Angels
A Story of Flying Commandos
A Blazing Angels 2/Ace Combat 5 Crossover Fanfic
By Andrew Manson
"Thank you for joining us at the aerodrome today, ladies and gentlemen." It was a clear, cozy day on September 3, 2000; a perfect day for an air show. "Let's have a big round of applause for the 41st Barnstorming Squadron as they perform feats of magnificent aerial daring for you." A crowd cheers as a flight of British Aerospace Engineering Hawk fighters flies over, colored smoke trailing behind. However, these aerial daredevils were not to be the stars of todays show...
"We also have a special treat. Taking off right now from the second airstrip are two World War II Veterans and pilots, Captain Christopher Robinson and Colonel Marcus Johnson!" As the crowd turned and cheered, on the runway were a British Spitfire mk 1 and a US P-40C Warhawk. Marcus Johnson and Captain Robinson were in their cockpits, and ready for takeoff.
"Flight Bravo-Alpha-Zero, flight Wardog 1, you are cleared for takeoff." the tower called out.
"Roger, tower." Marcus Johnson replied. The two planes quickly takeoff. As the two quickly climb and gain altitude, the tower called back.
"Bravo Alpha Zero, Wardog 1, if the two of you would kindly attempt some basic maneuvers to test the planes?" the tower requested.
"Roger, tower." Marcus replied.
"Roger." Robinson replied. "500 ft reached... gear up... Turn left." he instructed. The two pilots turn left, maintaining formation.
"Turn right... now." Marcus called, as the two warbirds snap right into a right turn. After two minutes, they even out, still in a gradual ascent.
"Level off." Robinson called, and the two planes level off.
"Everything seems to check out. Have a good flight." the tower calls back to the two of them, before communications cease.
"Just like old times, eh Robinson?" Marcus asks over the radio.
"Hehe, yea. Certainly is. Now, let's see what this crate - and this old man - can STILL do."
'I am Captain Christopher Robinson, Flight lead of the 'special squadron' Bravo Alpha. The pilot in the P-40C Warhawk is an old friend, Marcus Johnson. His callsign was Blaze, but back when we met, he was nicknamed "kid" by his flight lead. You see... Marcus and I go way back, to training in 1937. He and I were both trained by the US Army Air Corps in those T-6s, and we kinda stuck together since then.'
"Form up with the 41st Barnstorming Squadron." Marcus called. The two warbirds form up, and the Hawks slow down, on the edge of stall speed, to allow the antiquated warplanes to keep up. The group then do a low altitude pass above the airfield. 'Back in the early days of the war, I was a flight instructor at Naval Air Station Pensacola, one of the best. That's why they picked me - us - you see. We could fly pretty much anything. It was a top secret fighter group program called Operation Wildcard. The US wasn't involved in the war yet, but some folks knew what was coming and needed an ace or two up their sleeve. Our mission was to fly anywhere, do the impossible, get out again, and never breathe a word of what we were doing. My cover was that I was a tractor repairman, Marcus' was that he was a C-47 pilot. Really though, Marcus' flight lead and I were training up pilots so young they were still wet behind the ears. Me, Jack Bartlett and this British squad leader named Eddie Thatcher. You see it was during the Phony War, and Bartlett, Thatcher and I were running a basic drill for trainee pilots when we ran into a squad of German pilots out doing recon. All hell broke loose.'
[BGM - Conflict - Ace Combat Joint Assault OST ( watch?v=qqnouJq1dW0)]\
"What the hell? German fighters at 4 o'clock!" a much younger version of Marcus shouted.
"What the hell is going on?" a British pilot shouts in surprise.
"Hold formation, lads! Return fire!" Teach shouts.
"Steady lads. Don't lose your heads." another pilot replied.
"Where are they all coming from?" a British pilot exclaimed. The planes whiz around, strafing left, right, all over, trying to get a clear shot at each other. In the chaos, Marcus manages to down an Me-109, and Robinson downs an Me-110.
"Take that, you bastards!" a British pilot shouts. However, another two Brits were in trouble.
"I've got one on my tail! I can't shake him!" one said.
"They're diving right out of the sun! I CAN'T SEE THEM!" the other said, on the verge of panic.
"Shut up and fire back!" Bartlett exclaimed.
"Where is he? I can't see him!" The now panicking British pilot exclaimed. What he doesn't realize is that a yellow-nosed Me-109 was on his tail.
"Look out! LOOK OUT!" Another British pilot warned him. It was too late however. The Me-109 opened fire on him.
"Agh! I'm hit! I'm going down!" the British pilot shouted, before crashing into the terrain.
"Target schoolboys, will you? I'll show you!" Teach exclaimed.
"Yo Kid! Get after that sucker with the yellow nose!" Bartlett ordered.
"On it, captain!" Marcus replies. Marcus carefully pilots his P-40C behind the marauding Me-109, and pulls the trigger. Tracer fire arcs forward, mincing the enemy plane like garlic. The pilot in the Me-109 jumps, before the burning wreck plummets to the ground. "Wardog 4, splashed an enemy!" he shouted. The skies seem eerily quiet.
"Is... is that it?" a British pilot asked, confused.
"That's just the beginning, boys!" Teach exclaimed. "Nelson, Tinworth, you're with the American. The rest of you are with me. We're going to see if Jerry brought friends." he continued.
"Following orders sir." the British pilots said.
"All planes, split off and engage." Robinson ordered.
"Roger." the two British pilots replied. Eventually, as Thatcher anticipated, more German planes show up.
"There! I see something!" a British pilot exclaimed.
"They're coming in from the west side of the lake. Move to engage." Teach ordered.
"All wings, split up and engage at will!" Bartlett ordered. The British and American pilots fly west fast to intercept the incoming German planes. As they merge, Robinson narrowly escapes a midair collision, ducking under an oncoming Me-109, before performing a Split-S to reengage. He puts the enemy in his pipper, and opens up his guns. Machine guns rip open the Me-109, and all that remains are shards of metal. The pilot had his head ripped open when a stray shot entered the back of his plane. Bartlett opens up on another Me-109, and it loses its wings before falling like a rock.
"That's it, lads! Keep it up!" Teach exclaimed. Marcus bags another kill, and the remaining German planes begin to retreat.
"We've got them on the run!" a British pilot exclaimed.
"Don't let any of them get away!" Teach ordered. There was only one left, and Marcus was already on his tail.
"Got you, you dirty motherfu-" Marcus shouted as he opened up on the enemy plane with his machine guns, and almost instantaneously, the Me-110 goes down.
"That's the last of them. Good work, lads. You too, Captain Bartlett. Same for you, Captain Robinson." Teach said, a hint of relief in his voice.
"You're not so bad yourself." Bartlett commented.
"I'm glad you think so. Now, let's bring it home." Teach replied. The planes begin their landing. Within minutes, all the planes are on the ground.