Lining up the sights, I fired with everything I had. The Vertibird, last in line in the V formation on the right, burst into flames and plummeted to the earth. I touched the left rudder pedal, swinging the nose around to the next Vertibird. Firing again, this one lost a rotor and spiraled down. "It's your show now Gary! Remember to lead and give 'em hell!"
I turned to the right, then back in a course parallel to the Vertibirds. Almost abeam them, I heard Gary open up. I looked over, and saw the final three Vertibirds sparking as bullets ripped into them. One must've had it's pilot killed, since it started doing all sorts of crazy things before going into a steep dive. Another sustained rotor damage, but stayed in the air while vearing to the left and right as the pilot struggled to keep it flying. The final one, the leader, had its cargo bay shredded but didn't take any serious damage. "Gary! I'm gonna circle 'round, hit 'em again!"
"Got it!"
I ripped the stick left, flying in front of the shattered formation. A few seconds after Gary opened up, I heard the distinctive sound of a gun jamming. As I turned around, with Gary cursing trying to un-jam the thing, I noticed the lead VB whirring up a minigun mounted on its nose. "Hang on! This is gonna get rough!" I punched the throttle and yanked back the yoke. The plane jerked upward, along with some more cursing coming through my earpiece. 5mm rounds tore through the air behind us. Going past vertical and losing a lot of airspeed, I jumped on the left rudder pedal, yanking the nose to the left while reducing the throttle, until we had done a 180 and were facing straight down, even as we were still sliding sideways from the rudder. It felt as if we were floating, and I looked at the VB. It had been turning, trying to follow us with it's nose. The chaingun started spinning. Screaming "Shit!", I punched the throttle again.
I glanced back as we rocketed downward. 5mm tracers were grazing my tail. I urged the plane to move faster, trying to make her go that extra last bit, watching as the stream of bullets fell further and further behind us. When I looked forward again, I realized the ground was becoming increasingly close. I grabbed the stick tightly, took a breath and pulled the yoke into my stomach. My poor plane struggled to pull out. The g-forces were more than I had ever experienced. Headed straight for a patch of trees. Crap. "This is gonna be a close one!" Slowly becoming level, getting closer and closer to the ground, then nose raising, little by little... Felt a small shake, then shot up into the wild sky once more. We had completely dove under the lead VB, and had pulled up under the damaged one. "You got that gun fixed yet?"
"Not yet, thanks to your flying."
"We're still alive, ain't we?" No response. I positioned the plane so my sights lined up with the belly of the smoking VB. With a pull of the trigger it exploded. Flying into the cloud of smoke, I heard Gary start shouting incoherently. Bursting through the other side, I headed the opposite way from my home, hoping the VB would follow. It did. My direction ensured we'd be out of range of his guns.
"Ok Gary, this guy ain't goin' down without a fight. Check the tail compartment, there's an old missile launcher in there. I did a little integration of a sentry targeting computer and turret into that missile; it's heat-seeking."
"You serious?" He yanked it out of the compartment. "Guess you are."
"Just aim at him, and when you hear the beep, for God's sake pull the fuckin' trigger!"
"I know how to shoot, dammit!"
I started flying in a large circle around the Vertibird (out of range of his guns), so Gary could have a broadside shot. After a couple seconds, I heard a loud: BEEP! A plume of smoke dashed out from the side of our plane. I tracked the plume all the way to its target. The pilot tried a last-ditch effort of evasion, pulling up, but the engines must have sustained some damage after all, because they just couldn't take it. Instead he found himself slowing down, barely gaining any altitude. The missile impacted, wreckage, smoke, and fire lit up the sky.
"You got him Gary! Ya got him!" Laughing, I turned around to high-five him.
"That was INSANE! They'd never let me do anything like THAT in the Enclave!" He returned the high-five, smiling ear-to-ear. Then he leaned halfway out of the plane, ripped his mask off, and started shouting at the wreckage, "THAT WAS FOR FUCKING ME OVER! EVERY! FUCKING! DAY! THAT WAS FOR MAKING ME DO THE SHIT JOBS! THAT WAS FOR TAKING AWAY MY NAME! MY IDENTITY! MY LIFE!" He put his mask back on, and turned to me. "I have an answer. I'm sticking with you."
"Good answer. I need a wingman. Plus I need someone to help work on this plane a little bit. I found some old solar panels in the ruins. I want to attach them on top of the wings, as well as a battery in the tail. Might lose some storage space, but if we ever take a hit to the fuel tanks I'll be glad to have some extra power." I headed for home, lining up with the runway for a straight-in landing.
"Sure thing. Umm... This might sound kinda funny, but... What's your name?" Gary looked sheepish, unsure if I had told him earlier and he just wasn't listening. But I hadn't. I hadn't told him my name. In Rivet City the adults had called me "Sonny". But I grew to adulthood away from them, and a man named "Sonny" is weird. Or at least I thought so, as I descended towards the runway.
"My name? The Rivet City people called me 'Sonny'. But it's been years since I've heard that, and to be frank I got sick of it. You may call me... The Man in the Sky," I replied, trying to give it a dramatic tone.
"That's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard." At least he was blunt about it. "How about an acronym... Mits? Mit?"
"I'm not gonna go walking around the Wasteland being called 'Mits'." Almost on the ground, as I started the rounded I was trying to find a way to stop the discussion with Gary.
"Then how about 'Picky Bastard?'"
"Very funny. How 'bout we get back and de-bug the Vertibird?" I asked, lightly touching down and coasting over to the hangar.
"Fine. And you know I won that argument. From now on I'm calling you Mits."
"Like hell you are. Just call me 'Sonny'."
"Naw, I think I'm gonna call you Mits."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not. And you're an asshole, you know that?" I sighed, as I taxied back into the hangar.
"Yes, I do. Did you know you're a picky bastard?" He grinned as I shut off the engine.
"Oh shut up. Now, where are those tracking chips?" We got out, took off our gear, and walked over to where we had parked the Vertibird earlier.
"There's one in the cockpit, one on each rotor, and one in the tail. I'll show you." We spent the next hour going into the Vertibird's insides retrieving the chips. "We should destroy them all at the same time, hopefully they haven't been monitering to closely and will think we were destroyed as well," he hoped.
"Aren't they gonna come looking for survivors or something from the ones we downed?" I asked, feeling a little nervous, wondering if I'd have to leave my home for good.
"Maybe, but I doubt it. The Enclave tends to view us, err, *their* troops as expendable. If they do come looking, as long as these chips are destroyed they shouldn't come here. Might want to lay low for a few days, just in case." He took all four chips in his hand, threw them on the ground and crushed them. "Just to be safe," he added, "Let's burn them." Gary went over to the fuel station's pump, emptied some fuel into a cup and dumped it on the destroyed chips. He took a match and set them ablaze in a miniature inferno.
"Now, I said I didn't have any, but... I think we deserve a little something. I got some whiskey back in a locker, if you'll join me?"
"In a victory celebration? Why, I do think I will."
"Alrighty then, follow me."
"You know what Mits? You're okay for a picky bastard."
"And you're not bad for an annoying asshole. Now enough talk; let's get drunk!"
