Okay everyone, I'm back again with another update. I know, I know, it's ridiculous how quickly I can come up with ideas for the next chapter but my mind is an ever running machine. Sometimes though it comes up with the most random of things.
For instance I was just thinking about how to make chicken and dumplings and my mind switched to reminding me that I need to change the oil in my truck and then switched to washing the clothes and then it reminded me that Forged in Fire comes on soon.
I really like that show...anyway, onto the disclaimer.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYONE OR ANYTHING IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 11: Aces of Avalon: A Hero Falls
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Ignitus lay gingerly down on the marble floor of his and Thera's home while watching Wolfie go over Thera in a hurried manner. In the next room he saw his father staring at the still crystalized form of his mother, not saying a word but crooning softly, and watching with a wary eye as Doctor Stein examined her from snout to tail blade. It had been so for almost a week now.
After Gnasty had crystalized Cynder, Spyro had gone absolutely berserk and attempted to attack him with a convexity pulse. He would have flown straight into Gnasty's clutches if Ignitus and Thera hadn't intervened. Intervening meaning they rammed Spyro off course, forced him to land and risk getting attacked by him (he had almost gone completely dark) and then dragged him back into Warfang before Gnasty's forces could regroup.
It was thanks to the loss of Doctor Shemp which made Gnasty decide to withdraw for the moment, leaving his Damoneni allies to take the brunt of the counterattack. It was later with great care they moved Cynder to the house and since then Spyro had been on a vigil, eating and sleeping little, until he learned something.
As Ignitus winced from a particularly painful wound on his left flank, he saw Stein nod and step back and look at Spyro. The were well within earshot for what the good doctor had to say.
"Rest assured, Spyro, she is alive. I can confirm a heartbeat as well as seeing some eye movement underneath her closed eyes. The trick is, of course, getting her out of the crystal. I've tried every tool I have at my disposal short of a bone saw and I couldn't make a scratch. I also have no way of knowing if she is consious or just sleeping while encased."
Spyro mumbled something and nodded. Then Ignitus rose to speak to him.
"Can't you do something? Anything to help her?" Stein took off his glasses and ran his artificial right hand through his greying hair and shook his head.
"Alas I cannot. I am a man of medicine, Ignitus, not magic. Just because I somehow manage to perform triage, surgery, and health physicals with artificial arms doesn't mean I can wave my hands and have the crystals melt off of her. Perhaps someone with an intimate knowledge of magic can help you?" At that moment, Pyre entered the house with Shimmer behind him, both looking glum.
"Shimmer and I combed the entire library along with Volteer, even the areas on forbidden magic and couldn't figure it out. He's never seen any kind of magic like this before. Whatever it is, it predates Warfang and most archives." Thera looked aside and then reached for a blue spirit crystal nearby. This caught Ignitus' attention and he looked at his mate curiously.
"Love, I doubt James has any more idea about magic than Stein does." Thera nodded at that but then looked at Cynder.
"I know that. Still, I think there has to be someone in my family line that knows something." Spyro breathed slowly and rose, shakily.
"You're going to talk to Malefor, aren't you?" Thera nodded, unsure of what Spyro would say. She was surprised when Spyro simply nodded and lay back down alongside Cynder. Thera uttered the phrase she had learned from her father about using spirit crystals and felt her consiousness fade. Before fading completely, she saw a single tear fall from Spyro's eye.
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Blinking away the stars and light shadows, Thera beheld the image of an incomplete Warfang. The sun was high in the sky, yet at the same time so was the moon and numerous stars twinkled in and out of sight along with a few shooting stars and comets. She felt herself growing relaxed when a cough nearly made her jump out of her scales. She turned and came face to face with Malefor who looked both bemused and worried at the same time.
"Interesting times you live in, granddaughter. Makes me wish I'd stayed around longer. Still, I wouldn't trade one moment here for all the time back in the mortal plane. For the first time in a long while, I know peace. I know tranquility. I...I am starting to remember what love is like thanks to my mate and my descendants here." Malefor gazed at the sky with a wonderous expression before noticing Thera's expression and frowned.
"What has happened my dear?"
Thera explained to him about Gnasty's betrayal, the Damoneni attack, and finally, the crystalization spell Gnasty cast on Cynder. This bit of knowledge made Malefor growl angrily.
"Blast it! I knew someone would find that spell eventually! I should have destroyed it then and there but I was too far gone to have made myself do it. I thought of using it as a trump card in the war but never had time to find it and then prepare it." He sighed, noticed Thera's expression and then settled in to explain himself.
"During the years after Renna was slain and I was driven mad, I still made a habit of chasing down potential threats. The old saying goes that the last thing one egomaniacal monster, abyss-bent on destroying the world needs, is another egomaniacal monster, abyss-bent of destroying the world. One of the threats I found was an ape sorcerer name Jhinaki who created and perfected one of the most vile, yet inventive, pieces of magic I had ever heard of."
Malefor paused for a moment to dredge up the old memory. The discovery, the battle, and finally realization of what he had discovered.
"Jhinaki had developed a spell capable of imprisoning dragons into crystal prisons that, with time, would become tombs as the dragons inside these prisons wasted away. It is both clever, yet horrific and diabolical. The dragon or dragoness is trapped in the crystal, unable to move, speak, eat, or drink. Yet they can still breathe, and are still concious. They can hear every word said outside their prisons, they can sense who is near them. They cannot break free from the inside. If I recall correctly, the only thing that can break the curse is...hmmm..."
Thera watched as Malefor thought for a moment before then nodding.
"I believe that the only way to break the curse is either with true love's kiss, or you must first find the counterspell, read it aloud, then have the dragon closest to the trapped one break the crystal. It could also be that all you need is a really big hammer with a lot of force...Don't look at me like that! I told you I was already half-mad when I found the blasted thing. I thought to use it eventually instead I lost it when I was sealed away the first time! I had no idea where those ancestors hid the spell. I honestly thought they had realized what they held and destroyed it. It seems that I was wrong." Thera thought back and sighed.
"Well it can't be true love's kiss because Spyro kissed Cynder and she didn't break free." Malefor nodded.
"Yes, I thought as much. Well then, the only course of action is to capture Gnasty Gnorc or find the counterspell. If there was still one of those ancient dispelling platforms lying around you could set her on it and she could break free the moment Spyro touched her. Alas, I made it a point to destroy each and every one I came across, and being the purple dragon, I knew where each and every one was. Ancestors I was so short-sighted."
Thera gazed at the sky for a moment and then looked back at Malefor.
"Is there no other way? Getting to Gnasty would take nothing short of a miracle and I doubt the counterspell is right under out snouts." Malefor chuckled and then followed her gaze to the sky above.
"If things were always easy there would be no point to life. Look up there, Thera. Do you know what each of those stars are?" Malefor looked at her and then saw her shake her head.
"Each star is a dragon's ancestor's own little world. Since you are my granddaughter, you share the same ancestry as me although you haven't gone back far enough to view my ancestors. I remember a story my mother told me of one of my ancestors, Tomar the Wise, a draconic wizard of unparallelled power and potential. He helped dragonkind advance from simple nomadic family groups to a civilized race and was even one of the first dragons to agree to an alliance with the moles. I often sought him out when I used spirit crystals in my youth but I never once found him.
Thera couldn't help but be enthralled by the story. Malefor noticed this and smiled slightly, looking up again as if remembering something.
"My father found him once, a dragon so massive is scale and age that even I as I am now would just barely fit into the palm of his paw. Alas, my ancestors and I are not speaking to each other. They seem to have a hard time forgiving what I've done and to be honest, I don't expect them to. Still, you have the answers you have sought and now it is time for you to awaken."
Malefor touched Thera's forehead with one claw and muttered a phrase. When she awoke, she found Ignitus coiled up around her and weeping softly in his sleep. She realized at that point how worried Ignitus was by this spell and resolved to break it as soon as possible. Cynder would not be in any danger for a while, and the family of dragons would need their strength if they were to attack Gnasty's forces.
Though malefor hadn't said it, he had dropped a hint. The key to finding or even creating a counterspell lay in the lost lair of Tomar the Wise.
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Though the Damoneni forces had been forced to retreat a few moments after they realized the gnorcs had left them holding the bag, Lieutenant Frank Stone, the fourth highest scoring ace in Syllia, and his squadron of CF-26s known as 'the Red Wings', took off from the Praetorian carrier Inflexible and flew a patrol route around Warfang, the neighboring areas, the old dam, and lastly did a check over the last reported gnorc encampments.
Gnorc fighters had been doing probing raids for the past week trying to find a way over the city to bomb it but had no luck thanks to the ever present CAP around the city.
Stone's squadron was known as the Red Wings for one simple reason, every pilot painted the wings of his plane bright red while the nose, fuselage, and tail remained a very Syllian blue-silver color. Naval squadrona lacked the numbers of their land-based counterparts and were simply known as 'Red Wing', 'Blue Wing', 'Green Wing', etc., etc. The list went on as long as command could think of colors. There was even an all-female squadron known as the 'Scarlet Wing'. So long as there were unused colors and no shortage of volunteers, the Navy had its air force.
As Stone checked his guages and made sure they were reading right, his radio came on and he heard the voice of one of his wingmen, Mickey Caine.
"Hey LT, you've been kinda quiet up here today. Everything alright?" Stone chuckled and then completed a turn that his wing mimicked flawlessly and he replied.
"Yeah, everything's alright. Just going through this checklist of things to look out for while we're up here."
"Copy that. What's first on the honey-do list?" Stone chuckled and looked over the list and noticed the top thing and sighed.
"Praetorians lost one of their flyboys in this area during the skirmish yesterday. His wingleader saw a good chute but didn't see where he landed. Request is to do a slow fly-by and see if we can spot some white canvas in the tree tops. By the way, how're our new recruits holding up?"
Stone was referring to the three new pilots who had been assigned to him after they lost their wingleader yesterday on take-off and he lost three wingmen during the battle last week. All three of them were green as grass and still hadn't gotten their sea legs. Stone thought for a moment and recalled their names.
"Tom? Sam? Harry? You three awake? When your wingleader calls you on radio you nuggets are supposed to pipe up and answer." Immediately all three answered in the affermative, making him chuckle a bit. He was by no means a stern officer, he liked to give the new recruits a hard time to get them accustomed to squadron life. They'd get heckled like this until they were either transferred to other units, recieved new units themselves and were promoted, or the wing recieved new recruits in which the heckled would become hecklers in turn. As Stone completed another turn, he saw something off his right wing and dipped lower to see and then laughed when he saw a man, still dangling from his parachute, waving frantically at him while sitting amongst the limbs of a lone tree close to shore.
"This is Red Leader to Home, I think I've found your missing flyboy. Location is correct as listed. Please send recovery and tell them to bring a really long ladder...and a very sharp knife." Chuckling was heard on the other end and then a voice came through from the Inflexible confirming it. A second later, the radio piped up again.
"Home to Red Leader, deviate from flight patrol plan, priority one. We've an entire force of HT-207s inbound with troops meant to reinforce the garrison. They were put on standby following word of the attack and numerous probing raids. Now that we have clear skies, they want to make up for lost time. Numbers are roughly ninety planes. Please escort them to the airstrip outside the city please. We're sending Yellow, Orange, and Green wings to assist."
"Red Leader copies. Diverting patrol."
"Red Leader, be advised, one of our destroyers along the patrol route just radioed in they had some spots on the radar. It could be nothing but all the same, take care."
"Again, I copy. Sheesh Home, keep this up and I'm going to start thinking you care."
"Only about your planes Red Leader. There are plenty more wide-eyed young men and women to volunteer for the service."
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After flying over the ocean for a while, Stone spotted the planes his wing and the others were supposed to escort. He turned on his radio and pitched his plane up.
"Tally ho on the planes. Looks like I've found the planes we'll be escorting." A confirmation from the other wings was all he needed before flipping the radio to the next frequency used by Praetorian bombers and transports.
"Flight 207 Alpha this is Red Leader. Coming up on your port side, we have orders to escort you into Warfang."
"207 Alpha copies. Pleasure to have you as escort Red Leader."
"Just stick to tight formation and ease on in."
As the wings settled into formation, a burst of static came over the radio, making Stone rip his headset off before placing it back on with a growl.
"Anybody know what the hell that was?!" The radio beeped and Stone heard a voice come through.
"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is IMS Trout, we are under attack from unknown vessels. Repeat: we are under attack!"
"Red Leader to Home, did you get that?"
"We got it Red Leader. What's your current speed and position?" Stone checked his map and then looked at his throttle, speedometer, and fuel gauge.
"We're about fifty miles out from landing strip, we've got just enough fuel to make it back, currently at cruising speed, seventy-five percent power so we can match the transports." Stone waited for a moment and then heard the one thing he didn't want to hear.
"Red Leader, go faster. Radar indicates numerous bandits coming towards you bearing north-northwest." Stone thought for a moment then flipped his radio to where all planes could hear him.
"I thought gnorc planes didn't have the range to intercept?"
"They're not gnorc planes. They're Rotiart naval air fighters, F-10s. Furthermore, Rotiart's Ace of Aces is confirmed to be among their number."
"Bloody hell."
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Dieter frowned again, trying to get used to the grating sound of the engine of his F-10 as compared to his more familiar land-based fighter. Since the sinking of the Whirlwind, Mechanos had been in a foul mood. Had it not been for Dieter's valiant attempts to catch up with the ship before it reached enemy held waters, Dieter had little doubt his head would have been among those that rolled the day Mechanos learned of the sinking.
With the obvious culprit having gone down with the ship, Mechanos took out his frustration on the closest living beings to him at the time. Dieter reminded himself to write a letter to Colonel Yaigeir's and Captain Talcott's widows and make an attempt to say that they died bravely in battle against an overwhelming enemy instead of being shot from behind by Mechanos.
Adding fuel to the fire as always was Reaper. Sergeant Marks had been such a nuisense that Dieter actually wondered if he would be of any help to the squadron or simply hinder them. True their role here was only to ensure the gnorc forces did what they were told although being out in force seemed to blow that thought out of the water. Perhaps the only shining moment for Dieter is that the Syllian's Fourth highest ranking ace was confirmed to be among the fighters he was tasked with intercepting. Still though, a part of him balked at the idea of shooting down transports that had no guns to defend themselves. At least with bombers there was always the chance of a worthy fight but unarmed transports were like shooting at parachutes.
Dieter, in his early years, had been a mercenary pilot for Callinar and had the honor of flying under the command of the Crimson Tide, Callinar's Ace of Aces dueing the Callinar Incursion. One of the first things he learned about the man was that he would not suffer fools and despite Callinar's reputation for unsavory and dishonorable tactics, he was different.
"You are fighter pilots first, last, always." He would often quote to his squadron, especially if they recieved new members. Dieter had been no exception and once he'd been in battle and seen the barbarity of it, the Ace gave him another part of the speech.
"Remember that a parachute is the only way a man can fall from the sky and remain unscathed. That is his lifeline. We shoot down machines, we are not murderers. If I either see or hear of any of you shooting a parachute of a downed pilot, I'll kill you myself."
He'd done it of course. A pilot, hot-blooded and hungry for battle strafed a pilot in his parachute after he'd bailed out when his plane caught fire. Later they learned that the pilot he had strafed was the son of a Tellanian councilor and a relative to a high ranking cabinet member in Schildhaven who was a known sympathizer with Callinar whose support, as well as his supply convoys, dried up as quickly as water in the desert.
That pilot's one act of glory-seeking had cost Callinar its trade routes with a neutral country, cost them a very powerful ally, and also cemented the Federation's hatred for them as a whole and reaffermed their oath to defeat the enemy no matter the cost. The Crimson Tide had killed him without remorse, without mercy, and had his corpse hung outside the base as a warning to those who would strafe a defenceless opponent.
There were many other instances that made the Crimson Tide a great mentor. Once, when he learned that one of the Tellanian aces had been killed due to mechanical failure, he actually took his squadron and did a funeral pass for the deceased pilot and dropped a wreath of flowers into the grave on a pass. He'd caught hell for it afterwards from his commanders but he cemented himself in Dieter's mind as the perfect role model of an ace pilot.
Thinking on this, Dieter almost missed Reaper eyeing the enemy formations before them.
"Captain! I'm seeing a lot of targets up here, ripe for the picking!" Dieter sighed, he had never said this before but now was as good a time as any.
"Listen up, all wings. We are here to shoot down machines. Engage the enemy but aim for the engines on the transports. If the paratroopers bail out, let them. If I see anyone firing on a parachute, I'll kill them myself, I don't give a damn who they are. Understood?"
All of his squadron (except for Reaper) confirmed the orders loudly while a few others in the other wings gave a few startled confirmations. He was by no means the superior officer in the formation but he was the most experienced and also had the highest kill score of any fighter there. Even the formation leader, a young man barely twenty, deferred to him.
He saw the Syllian and Praetorian fighters closing and clicked the safties off his guns and keyed his radio.
"Engage."
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Stone fired off a burst at the nearest enemy plane, then rolled and engaged another as they dropped to engage the transports. Off to one side, he could see his wingmen doing just as well as he when the first wave came at them. Years of flying had told him to keep his eyes alert and moving at all times. Every action or inaction had consequences. Saving an ally in distress could prevent an enemy from getting behind you or may put you right into an enemy's crosshairs. The same could be said for letting the enemy shoot down a comrade needing help, you may save yourself but you won't endear yourself to your comrades.
Looking back at the transports, he noticed that some of them were strafing the cockpits, engines, and tail sections of them but leaving the fuselage intact while others just shot at whatever was the larger target which was the fuselage. Several paratroopers had broken the windows out of the planes and set their machineguns, rifles, or submachineguns out the window and started shooting at whatever was nearest.
One identifiable transport in particular, had its door open and a paratrooper with a Praetorian L1A1 light machinegun strapped to the door with a static line and was firing into the enemy formations as they passed.
Stone knew that at this speed, it would be a lucky shot if the paratrooper managed to hit anything, even with the known power of the .303 caliber machinegun. Yet, just as Stone shot the canopy off another Rotiart plane, he saw a flash and saw the paratrooper, grinning wildly, as a Rotiart F-10 carrier fighter fell from the sky, minus it's left wing.
Stone took a moment to hope that the young man would survive this fight, then he turned and engaged another formation of F-10s, this time, he saw the ID of the lead plane: RS2-15A, the Ace of Aces, Dieter Muntz.
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Early in the fight a strafing fighter had raked the transport with bullets, killing the squad's machinegunner. Without thinking, Lance Corporal Kay had grabbed the machinegun, opened the transport door, used his own static line to lash the gun to the doorframe and began shooting at the enemy planes as they passed. A childhood life of hunting in Praetoria's Agincourt Forest had given him the knowledge to air carefully and only shoot when he was sure he could hit the target. Had there not been a shortage of materials to make rifle scopes, Kay would have been attached to the paratroopers as a sniper.
He was a good machinegunner, an even better rifleman, and, according to his Sergeant, was a guaranteed prospect for early promotion.
Kay zeroed in on a fighter coming for his transport's port engine and opened fire. The bullets ripped through the thin carrier plane's armor and struck the port wing magazine. The plane's left wing exploded and the plane fell from the sky. Kay paused to relaod when an explosion got his attention. Looking up, he stared, horrified, as a transport lost it's right engine, flipped upside down, and came down on top of another transport which a moment later exploded, sending both planes, their crews, and the paratroopers in them, falling to the ocean below.
He heard the Sergeant, his reloader, bite back a curse as Kay opened fire again, this time, he was firing at a fighter that was strafing the transports with wild fury. A reaper scythe was the only mark on the plane. He led the target, squeezed the trigger, and almost laughed as the bullets struck the plane's engine. He imagined the pilot swearing a blue streak as smoke began to pour from his engine. A second later, he felt the Sergeant tap his shoulder.
"Kay, we're well within range of our fleet to deploy rescue boats. This transport is coming apart and the pilot is giving us the green light to jump. I'm opening the other door, grab another static line, you're jumping last." Kay nodded and reloaded the weapon.
"Go. I'll cover you from this side."
The Sergeant opened the door opposite Kay and hit the buzzer to the cockpit, then turned to the paratroopers.
"Stand up! Hook up!" The troopers rose and fastened their static lines into the groove in the roof.
"Klaptan! Stand in the door!"
Kay turned back and fired on another fighter as it neared the formation. At that moment, he saw a sight that put heart back in him. A bright blue Syllian CF-29 with gold markings. Even though he was from Praetoria, he knew the plane, and he'd heard of the pilot.
Reyson Havvers, The Blue Baron of Syllia.
He turned back and yelled to his fellows what he saw.
"Reinforcements! We've got Syllian reinforcements coming in! The Blue Baron is leading them!"
The Sergeant nodded but kept his stance. A second later, the red light turned green, Klapton jumped out into the clouds and the rest of the troopers followed him. As the last trooped left the plane, Kay used his knife to cut the line holding him in the plane, and opened the door to the cockpit and tapped the pilot and copilot on the shoulders.
"I'm the last man on, time to go sirs."
The pilot nodded grimly, lashed a cord to the controls, and grabbed the parachute behind his seat. The copilot did likewise and soon both he, the pilot, and Kay were out of the plane in hurtling through the air.
Kay speared a glance back at the plane just in time to see the right wing buckle under the stress of flying with one engine. The wing fell away and the transport spiraled past them into the sea below. He felt a jerk and sighed, feeling his parachute open and he began the slow descent to the sea where already he could see a Syllian Naval group, a battlecruiser, a cruiser, three destroyers, and an escort carrier, already plucking parachutes out of the water.
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Dieter didn't know whether to be surprised or delighted to see Reaper break off and retreat due to being hit in the engine. Even more unbelievable was that the shot didn't come from a fighter but rather a pissed off paratrooper defending his transport. Nevertheless, he had ordered his squadron to withdraw once the reinforcements arrived. Still, even more surprising, he never expected all five top Syllian aces to be here. The sight of Reyson Havvers was enough of a shock but both of his wingmen, Kaleb Baker, and Henry Svenson, then Lieutenant Stone, and wonder of wonders, Bertram de Launces.
As more Rotiart planes fell to the aces, Dieter gave the order to retreat. As the Rotiart fleet came into sight, he looked at his watch and sighed. If the gnorcs followed the plan properly, they should be attacking right now.
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Flaire dodged another griffon and set fire to another as she and her group flew through the attackers. Not content with throwing themselves against Warfang, the gnorcs had opted for a 'weaker' target this time. Attacking the mole's Avalar settlement, known to most as 'Moleville' yet known by another name to the moles.
The moles had evecuated underground while their town force stayed above ground to fight back the gnorc and human mixed force. She silently swore as she flamed another group of griffons and then dropped a ball of fire onto the encroaching enemy ranks.
(These griffons are far worse than dreadwings or wyverns. They just don't know when to quit!)
Scanning the area, she saw a griffon about to pounce on a group of moles who had been cut off from the rest of their allies. Diving quickly, she attacked and shredded the griffon with her claws and fangs and turned to the moles.
"Get out of here now! We can't hold them back for much longer!" She took off again before the moles could reply and unleashed a frightful fire fury that incinerated several griffons and dropped flames to the ground that burned or incinerated any who touched them. Off in the distance, she spotted a lone griffon trying to retreat with what looked like a mole in its claws.
Sickened by the sight, Flaire pursued and managed to close with nthe griffon who saw her coming and hurled its victim down to the earth where thankfully the trees shielded the grisly sight from the air. Blood boiling, Flaire launched a fireball at the griffon whoi nibly dodged it and then turned back at her. She managed to didge the attack and then grappled with the griffon, a dangerous move but nessessary.
She drove her fangs into the griffon's throat and shook her head violently. The creature screeched once and fell silent. Flaire released her bite on the corpse and threw it down from the sky and then started to look around for another enemy. She heard a flapping sound behind her and turned, fire ready, and spewed blue flames at the griffon that was dive-bombing her from the clouds.
Feathers and fur ablaze, the griffon continued coming at her. Flaire thought to evade but something happened. Looking down, the griffon whose throat she had tore out had managed to hold on for a little longer and anchor her in one spot with its dead weight. She saw the griffon coming, felt it slam into her, felt its claws rake her face even as she unleashed one more blast of fire that incinerated both griffons.
Her sight went dark, she felt the air grow colder around her as she fell, and vaguely felt the pain of slamming into trees and she crashed to the forest floor. She was alive, of that there was no doubt for she felt incredible pain, but her vision was dark, her sight gone. She felt the gashes across her face and eyes just before the pain became too great and she slipped into unconciousness.
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All right everybody! This chapter was done faster than I thought. It truly isamazing how much one can get done when you have nothing better to do, and a good flow of inspiration. The end was a little rushed because I finished this at about 2:30 A.M. and I am dog tired.
I mentioned before I was with the local volunteer Fire Department, right? Well anyway, had training to do and managed to get some time on the fire hose (believe me, it's a lot harder than it looks to hang onto a fire hose pumping water at three-hundred gallons per minute). I also got to try out the new tools we've got such as the penetrating nozzle which is used for piercing light wood, aluminum, and various other thin materials and is also handy for the occasional hay bale on fire. (We've been getting a lot of those with how dry it is out here.)
Nothing's ever boring out and around here.
Well anyway, see y'all next time and, as always, please review.
Next Time: The Lost Lair