Disclaimer: I do not own any of the sonic characters, they belong to SEGA and respective owners.
Authors Note: This is an idea what flashed into my head while watching the usual old war films that come on over the Christmas period over here. No idea how fast I will update as I'm determined to finish same planet different world before setting my head to this proper, especially as i don't know how the story will pan out!. Still I mean no disrespect to the brave men and woman who fought in that war on all sides by writing this.
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He hated this part of the game.
The tension.
Nothing worse than the lead up to a fight that may be your last.
Still for king and country.
And Walker.
He was on his own. He had lost his wing man a few minutes ago in an engagement, and to top it off the wireless and navigation instruments seem to have become possessed, loud pops and crackles coming through the earpiece while the needles swung erratically.
Dropping out of the clouds he spotted what he was looking for, the unmistakable outline of a Bf109 heading back to France. The 109 that brought down Walker.
Manoeuvering his Spitfire so that he was on the 109s six o'clock, the enemy pilot seemed oblivious to what was behind him. Just as he squeezed the button, releasing rounds of hot lead to destroy his foes craft, he realised his mistake.
An aircraft is at its most vulnerable when it's about to attack.
No sooner he thought it rounds of bullets crashed through his craft, unfortunately one piercing the upper fuel tank and one entering the cockpit, hitting Jim in the left shoulder.
Oh god that doesn't hurt that much...
Jim had always been told that the less a wound hurts the worse it is, and in this case he was sure it was serious, especially as his arm didn't seem to respond much, just a prevailing sense of numbness.
Not being able to use the throttle properly and manoeuvre at the same time presented a problem.
If I try fighting in this condition I will die. If I fly straight on I will die. If I play dead... well its got a chance.
He allowed the plane to wander before entering a steep dive/spin, trying to mimic how a pilot-less plane would react. As the speed increased a bright light flashed briefly in front of his eyes followed by the wireless screaming static over the earpiece.
He let the seconds pass before pulling out of the spin and leveled out, hoping that his attackers had left him alone. A quick look around confirmed they had gone.
Casting an eye over the instruments he was dismayed to see that the compass still had a mind of its own, and the fuel gauge showing a lot less than he had hoped with the accompanying smell of petrol. To add to the list of problems he was completely disoriented and conscious of the growing amount of blood that was covering his flight jacket. Opening up the throttle he hoped he could find land to set down on before the side effects of blood loss could take effect.
After what felt like an eternity some cliffs came into view, as he got closer he could see that the land behind them covered in dense forest. Nothing in his training spoke of a forest like this on the coast of France, though no where in Britain he could place it either. To be blunt he didn't care any more if he did come down behind enemy lines.
I guess capture is better than ending up in the drink or pushing up the daisy's. Just stay awake.
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In the forest all hell had broken loose. Eggmans robots on their constant hunt for more Mobians to feed his endless hunger for more power had stumbled across a group of victims. In the chaos the people had noticed a strange noise and banging coming their way, though they couldn't see it through the dense tree canopy. All they could guess that it was some new weapon from Eggmans lab.
Now above the forest Jim was struggling to stay conscious from the blood lose, together with the Merlin misfiring/backfiring in protest to being starved of fuel, he knew he had to get down in any opening he could find and fast.
A short distance ahead he spotted such a clearing and thus started the landing procedure. A few hundred feet later the engine finally cut out with a final loud retort, the prop now becoming stationery with one blade in his line of sight, almost taunting him in retaliation for the damage he inflicted on the craft.
All but one robot had either taken its prey and gone or been destroyed, the remaining one damaged but still operational, dragging a small child rabbit across a clearing in the woods.
The child's mother could be heard screaming her name out as she ran to her daughters rescue through the trees. Luckily for her she didn't get to the clearing as a strange craft came gliding down almost silently.
He held his nerve as he dropped down into the clearing. He knew he would have to apply the brakes immediately he touched down or he would run out of space and collide with the trees at the end of the clearing. His heart sank when he spotted something in his path though he had no other choice but to stick it out.
As the wheels touched the ground he braked as hard as he dared, a loud bang and a shudder resonated from the right wing as it hit the mystery object.
Soon all was quiet, the spit had stopped perilously close to the trees.
Shutting off the main isolators he proceeded to slowly wind back the canopy, realising at the same time how weak he was, before gingerly attempting to climb out of the cockpit. Unfortunately as he tried he fell out, rolling off the wing and landed on his back hard against the forest floor.
He could sense someone nearby so let out a feeble "Help me" before passing out.