He hadn't felt much then, only the engines cutting out and jolting him along with the bumpy air currents. He felt weightless again and tired, exhaustion hitting him like a brick. Or maybe it was the warp in time that was finally catching up with him, it could explain his exhaustion. Over them he could see flashes of mortars as his wounded aircraft just coasted along through the sky. He felt useless at the moment, watching the bloodshed from above. The bird's eye view made things much more bearable. The blonde pilot was hoping for death, his neck snapped as the jet crashed nose first into the bloodstained ground.
He looked back forward again, pondering. How had this worked? How would they know he's alive? Would they want him to come back alive? Iceman would admit, anxiety was common in his family. The constant fear and ridicule in his mind that had made him so sharp. There were days that it made him think he was weak.
The Tomcat was teetering now, wings slowly unfolding from the computers commands. It felt so surreal to him, and months of training with a sensory deprivation tank had made him more dissociate. He looked down at his hands, feeling disconnected from his body as a flight response from his intense fear. It was likely that Tom "Iceman" Kazansky's life would end very very soon. He set a quivering hand on the yoke, daring not to pull around as it would cause his aircraft to plummet. His voice, slightly panicked coasted crackly over the transmission.
"Mayday mayday mayday," He repeated three times, trying to keep a grip on the sanity he had left.
No man came out unscathed from the Philadelphia Experiment, most of not all were driven to the brink of insanity from the cruel things done on their own kind; Iceman had just been another expendable soldier. He was caught in it, unwillingly forced into Montauk air base, had his mind peeled apart layer by layer like an onion. Hell that left a fowl taste in his mouth. It was coppery like blood, it was so realistic to the point he spat onto his hand. There blood had been. He was dizzy suddenly, and quickly he yanked on the ejection handle.
It sent him flying; also unconscious from the speed he flew up at and getting a mortar casing struck over his head. It stung for only a second, then his parachute immediately deployed, leaving him face first into upturned dirt. A hand tore him away from a ricochet of bullets. They all sunk deep into the Earth, one barely skimming over his throat.
"Get him inside!" A voice shouted.
No one even bothered to register the fact that he didn't seem to hold their own insignia, three stars one blue on white and the other reversed. Osea. The country of Osea, identical to our day United States of America. Although they were much more calmer than the Americans, they were still one of the more powerful superpowers. The Osean soldier, in green fatigues, was clearly a medic. He brought out his combat knife, cutting the chords on the parachute once he was brought inside a building.
The Osean soldier tisked at the sight, and looked at his shoulder to have wide eyes. This one wasn't their own. A star spangled banner on his shoulder, what could it mean? A rebel maybe? His surname sounded fairly Ustian. Maybe he was a mercenary apart of a legion, and they all carried a similar banner. It wasn't hard to open his mouth a little, where blood started to stream from the corner of his mouth.
"Hey, private!" He shouted to the nearest soldier, speaking his rank. "Have a flashlight on you?"
The soldier looked back and nodded, flashlight in hand and quickly walk over to the two men. The fighter pilot below them groaned, a gurgling sound coming from his throat. Red liquid was coughed up as Ice rolled over, staining the grass dark with a tint of red.
"Fuckin' gross," The private spat, shaking his head with the M16A1 in his hand, walking back out as he tossed the military grade flashlight to the medical soldier.
The soldier ducked out from behind the cloth, bolting into the battle field as gunfire rattled from his direction.
Iceman looked around, seeing communications equipment and multiple cots. Then he registered the gunfire, wrestling with his holstered military issued pistol, aiming it at the other soldier. "Who the Hell are you?" Ice rasped.
"Relax-" He paused, looking at the badge.
"I'm American," Ice said.
"American? That is? Some type of hidden society in Osean borders?" The man seemed on edge. "Or are you Belkan?"
"What is this? Where am I?" Ice stood up too quickly, having dots appear in his vision. He leaned against a cold metal support, letting the blood even out within his head.
"Wesson, Osea. Belka's invaded our territory." The soldier explained, standing up to take him back further into the tent.
From what Ice could see, this very much was primarily used to house wounded troops, he could see a few on cots, asleep with bloodied uniforms. Hell he could even smell the stench of blood and it almost made him gag, it didn't help that he'd probably swallowed who knows how much blood from the Time-Warp. One soldier was sitting up, just staring into the nothing. It prickled a terrible anxiety, and he ducked behind the medical officer, pistol clutched in his hand so hard that his knuckles were red.
"Don't worry lieutenant, he's alright,"
It took him a moment to realize that the medic was talking to him, waving a hand a little in front of his dark eyes. The pilot nodded, unable to make any verbal communication. Ice quickly darted past the soldier who just watched him.
"He's another," The man whispered under his breath. "He came from the other world. I WARNED YOU!"
The soldier sprung up to grab his rifle and fire a bullet at Iceman's head, to which the lieutenant ducked down behind a cot with his pistol cocked. It was ready to fire, and he sprung up. The trigger was brought back and a loud BANG went through the air, mixing a little with the gunfire. The soldier was caught in the leg, twisting in pain as he collapsed to the ground.
"I fucking warned all of you! He's one of them!" The soldier sounded delusional and deranged.
Ice froze,(no pun intended)wondering how the Hell he knew about the experiments. Nobody was supposed to know about it. The other soldier grabbed him and dragged him away from Iceman, watching the American TOPGUN pilot. He looked at the patch he'd been given, it was the one he'd had it on the first day of his arrival.
"Top Gun, what is that?"
Ice didn't decided to speak, he only stood there with the pistol pointed into the dirt. He started to back away from the pair, as the medical soldier grabbed his pistol to aim it at him. He tried to open his mouth to explain, but nothing came out, he couldn't talk. Ice looked down at his hands, feeling the dissociation once again. This wasn't him. He couldn't really come to terms with being an experiment, something to shove off into an oblivion. He had to look at himself and shake his head. It didn't feel like his helmet was there. Who was he exactly?
"I-I'm not exactly too sure anymore," The thought of TOPGUN in general left a terrible taste in his mouth, like acid. "Just a place where you learn to be more lethal." He laughed.
It sounded more mental than it should've been, like being trapped and forced inhale a weird liquid into his lungs and somehow HE COULD STILL BREATHE. That was what drove him to insanity first, then seeing the other planned experiments. Threatened to be killed if he spoke a word about it, were they here in this world too? Would a sniper knock his lights out if even a whiff of him speaking about the experiments got out? He was becoming paranoid again, so he rose the pistol and didn't hesitate to shoot either of them.
The loud sounds weren't being registered anymore. He felt so damn numb, nothing was real and everything was just another product of a simulator. He'd fired the bullets, and closed his eyes to hopefully wake up in the closed off dark metal room. Nothing, he was still there. This wasn't fantasy no.
And maybe, finally he'd been driven off the edge into an oblivion on insanity
Ice had bolted through the forest, occasionally tripping over the dirt. Why had it felt like he hadn't slept in years? Gunfire burst through the trees, and he dove into a shrub, feeling thorns in his cheeks along with cutting through his flight suit. He cried out in pain but it was drowned by shouting and yelling, the pounding of large artillery weapons. He crawled through the shrubs, trying to find a weapon he could use other than his pistol. He popped up quickly, hissing at the burning in his body that told him to stop. Iceman couldn't stop, he killed two soldiers! He felt like Maverick at the moment, instead of analyzing the situation he went right in and shot someone. Actually two people. How many saw it? How many heard it?
Around him was so loud, so overwhelming, what was that tactic they told him to use again? He couldn't remember, so he kept on running, ducking behind the trees as bullets fired above his head. He went down again, using a sharp part of his pistol to tear off his American banner, and his squadron insignia. The guilt was felt too much, how he had ruined the Kazansky pride and allowed them to walk all over him. If he had the chance he'd fucking shoot all of them. He'd buried the patches in the bushes, hoping that if they'd send another the person would find it and realize that they weren't the first. A bullet went right through his leg, a single bullet and no gunfire. The gunfire had died down. There was a sniper here. Iceman rolled into a patch of grass, praying the green colour of his flight suit would camouflage him enough so he couldn't be seen.
He was delirious at this point, hearing voices that weren't there. Ones of the scientists, Mitchell himself, sometimes Viper or Jester, then the particle accelerator. How it made a loud low humming before a blast of light before his eyes, the Tomcat rushing forward as things went dark. He had to have been dead, this was heaven and hell colliding with one another. He'd never seen such advanced technology, or maybe this was the underwater world of Atlantis before it's demise. He was haunted by that damn noise.
Tom could feel the barrel trained on his head, the scope gleaming was right in front of him. Slowly he pulled out his pistol and fired, rolling away from the sniper. He only had two bullets left, if need be one would be for himself. But could he really raise a gun to his head and pull the trigger? He went into a crouching stance, seeing the sniper was dead.
"Yesss!" He let the "S" go on for a little longer, almost like a snake hissing.
Maybe it was the exhaustion slurring his voice. Iceman got up, bolting almost drunkenly towards the "Osean" sniper, at least that's what he assumed. He was now knelt down by the soldier, seeing his tag was different and in a German language.
Must be Belkan, He thought.
Iceman took his rifle and his pistol, leaving his American assigned one beside it. He had seen a glimpse of the bullet wound through the head, bleeding out onto the ground. He quickly turned the man over to look for anything else, a knife or something. Around the man's waist had been a belt, he took it. He put it around himself, feeling more weight then he had liked. It was stupid that he only carried that pistol on his combat vest. There had been extra magazines in the other sniper's vest, and he took them gratefully.
"Hey!" A voice shouted.
Iceman rolled his eyes and aimed the pistol at the man behind him. This man was Belkan, Belkans were Germans right? Why did he speak perfect English?
"Get. Out." Iceman commanded, cocking the pistol with relative ease.
He needed to kill this man, the pistol was trained on his head. If he pulled the trigger it would be done and over with and that is what Ice wanted, to just escape and hide as a hermit forever. That was favourable, really it was, hide away from the cruel world. The gun clicked, almost sounding silent and he was surprised to see the fact that the noise was suppressed slightly. He cocked his head, the thought flashing through his head.
How many people can I murder with this thing? Iceman thought.
He darted past the soldier with the rifle slung over his shoulder, running for his life he tried to keep focus on everything happening at that point. He could feel hidden eyes watching him, the fear prickled up on his neck again. He tripped again before finally escaping from the battlefield, getting onto the outskirts of the city. Something felt wrong in the current situation, he was still being watched. He looked back towards the bombed streets and heard aircraft screeching over, it looked like something out of Dunkirk, maybe even the Blitzkrieg on London from the stories he'd read. How they explained jagged features on the buildings. Jagged like teeth from the bombs. The screeching of their twin engines made him shake with fear, and he raised up the rifle; waiting for the dark canopy to show itself.
It did. The rifle clicked, and a bullet soon soared through the air. It was an F-16 Viper, slowly teetering down with the sight of blood splatters from through the scope. He'd actually hit it. Then it exploded, exploded against the ground with shrapnel and metal showering everywhere with flames and smoke billowing up. It was a sight he found pleasing, to see something so powerful become so weak and fragile. Ice started running down the highway road, towards a lake region before something grabbed him. It spoke in German, but it held him back as a sharp pain flared through his neck.
The adrenaline was flowing now, but it wasn't enough to keep him awake, and he fell limp against the concrete.
"Hey, wake up!" A German accented voice shouted.
The light had invaded his eyes, and it brought back the flashes of terror. He growled lowly once he realized the room was different, an interrogation room. He looked around to see the German-pardon-Belkan officer sitting there at the other side of the table. He was starting at Kazansky, then looking at another guy who threw something cold on him. Iceman flinched, he didn't speak as the water hit his eyes to feel like salt. He smiled at the pain.
"Good. Now I will ask you a question. Who are you?"
Iceman kept his mouth shut, fearing for his life that he was back home again and they were all once again watching him. He needed to be silent. The man smacked his hands down on the table, startling him.
"WHO ARE YOU!?"
They were trying to break him into talking. There on his right was that window, a one way mirror. They were watching him, the Americans had been watching him.
"He looks disturbed Sir, paranoid." A man from behind the officer said.
"Yes he quite does. What's going on in your head kid?"
Kid? Nobody's called him Kid in years.
"T-they're gonna k-kill me," He rasped, catching them by surprise. "I-I g-gotta run."
Iceman stood, although his hands were tied, and tried to look around for the door. He didn't feel like he was in his own skin again, he was floating away. He twisted his wrists uncomfortably, gesturing a little.
"You're not leaving. One of our men saw you shoot down a fighter aircraft, how? How can any human being do that?" The man asked.
"Yes. I. Am." The lieutenant hissed, narrowing his eyes at them and trying to flex his fingers.
They'd trained him for this, to use combat while he was tied by his wrists. Ice stepped forward and around the table. He knew what he was about to do, quickly analyzing what he had on. I pistol and a knife, the knife was easily accessible. It was a foolish move. He rushed forward as the man stood up, headbutting him into another man and kicking the other in the abdomen. Ice dropped down, taking the knife in his jaws, staring at the man who was now kneeling. He could put the blade through his throat, he had to do it quick. The Belkan interrogator stood back up, trying to grab him by the shoulder. Ice whipped around, plunging the blade into the man's abdomen, tasting a little coppery blood that had not been his own.
The man howled in pain, and he took it out, looking at the other shocked man. He had the keys in his hand, and Ice ran forward, he looked crazy in the other man's eyes. Blood on his lips as it dropped from the combat blade.
"Holy shit," The other German said.
"Give me the keys," Ice demanded through his grip. "Or unlock these now."
The man nodded, and took his pistol quickly once his hands were free. Ice backed away, watching them both closely. It made him feel sick, he was planning to take both of their lives and suddenly he couldn't. Why though? Ice had bolted out, running down one of the other hallways. Men were running towards him, he had to run faster. Bullets buried themselves in his leg, and he ignored the pain. The pain is now what kept Tom alive, what kept him running although his throat was burning. He had almost made it out, onto a runway where and F-15 had been out of it's hangar.
It was no F-14, but for now it could do. He ran towards it, climbing up to the cockpit. He was lucky, flight gear was inside and quickly he had gotten it on. It fit him, thank god. He got on the helmet as he flicked the switch to close the canopy.
"GET THAT FUCKING DEMON!" A man roared.
Demon, that fit very very well.