A/N: Alright… finally some action for you guys. Hope you enjoy this one.

Flight

Eight fighter jets screamed across the sky towards Soviet Russia. The plan was to use afterburners almost the entire trip, refuel over Germany via tanker aircraft, continue to Russia, accomplish the mission, and land back in Germany. Phoenix still remembered the briefing with Eva…

"Alright, your first in-field assignment will require the use of the Mirage Harrier aircraft. Allied Intel has caught wind of an experimental missile silo deep in Soviet Russia. From what our agents could gather, it is some sort of Electro-Magnetic Pulse ICBM.

While many of our Command Bunkers in the States are resistant to explosive missiles, these "EMP Nukes" can, due to their nature, easily reach Allied Command Stations and wreak chaos when our Command-to-Field interface goes off-line.

This silo MUST be destroyed."

… So now Phoenix, with his wing of seven other "Hell's Angels", was racing towards Russia with a payload of Firestorm Bombs. These explosives were dropped in clusters and exploded in a flaming inferno. Simply put, anything hit with a barrage of Firestorm Bombs doesn't last very long.

Their presence would undoubtedly be sighted early on due to long-ranged radar scanners, so Phoenix had to be ready for scrambled aircraft sent to take them out. It would be relatively easy for Phoenix, armed with his ballistic bullets. He just had to be careful not to hit his wingmen. They also had to be ready for Ground-to-Air defenses, such as Flak batteries and SAM sites. The latter could be easily countered by decoy flares. The former would be slightly more difficult to avoid and would probably require a lot of luck or fancy flying to get past.

After they reached their refueling rendezvous point and the tankers wished the pilots luck on their mission, Phoenix and his wingmen raced forward towards their impending target… and quite possibly their impending doom.

"Angel One, this is Angel Six. First wave of scrambled resistance detected at two o'clock. Over"

"Fighter wave confirmed, Angel Six. Execute maneuver Beta-Twelve. Repeat, execute maneuver Beta-Twelve. Over."

"Roger, over and out."

All "Beta-Twelve" meant was spread out and split up into two groups that would flank the opposition and cause them to either split up and fight each group separately or stick together and make for an easy target. Maneuver Beta-Twelve was generally accepted among commanders as one of the more effective defensive maneuvers in any situation, be it land, sea, or air.

The squadron split up into two groups of four and spread out considerably. As the opposing fighters –a couple of older MIGs by the looks of it- Phoenix's wingmen began to coordinate targets for themselves, making sure each pilot took on a different aircraft to maximize efficiency. Phoenix himself dropped back to take out any Soviets who managed to get on the tail of one of his pilots.

"Incoming missiles detected. Taking evasive actions. Over."

Several of the pilots executed barrel rolls to avoid the rockets as they raced past. The others fired missiles of their own, each one locking on and striking a MIG. Within a few minutes, the squad of MIGs was taken out.

"That was the warm-up round, boys. Over."

"No kidding. Over."

"Attack choppers on the rise at Ten. Over."

"Bring 'em on. Over."

One by one, the Harriers peeled off of their original course and lined up with the approaching helicopters. Once they were close enough, the Helis began pelting the Harriers with bullet rounds. The Hell's Angels returned the favor, Phoenix bringing up the rear and sending his micro missiles flying. One of them struck a helicopter and it fell out of the sky, smoking.

"I've got one on my six. Over."

"He's as good as gone. Over."

One of Phoenix's wingmen fell in behind the tailing chopper and pumped him full of lead. The helicopter followed its comrade to the ground.

"Angel Four sustaining damage! Need back-up ASAP! Over!"

"Copy that Angel Four. I've got you covered. Over."

Phoenix throttled forward, zipped by another Heli, and fell in behind the one locked on to Angel Four. He sent a few micro missiles streaking towards the aircraft and brought it down. He then S-turned to face the helicopter he had passed, which was now facing him and firing rounds at him. Phoenix didn't want to risk getting hit while he was calibrating his shot. He grinned and reached for the "Red Button".

"Time for some stealth." Click.

From inside the cockpit of the Attack Helicopter, the gunner blinked in surprise as he saw his target fade from view. He then heard the roar of engines racing by him and saw miniaturized rockets flying towards him… too late.

Phoenix grinned as he saw the Heli go up in flames.

"That's the last one. Let's move on. Over."

"Copy that Commander. Returning to main course. Over and out."

For about an hour, their flight remained uneventful. Then they hit their first big city. It had a high-rise metropolis… and undoubtedly a lot of anti-aircraft artillery.

"Alright boys… get ready for resistance. Over."

"Copy that. Over."

"Wouldn't it be better to circumnavigate the city, sir? Over."

"Negative. The city is flanked by several airbases. Circumnavigating those would deviate us off the course too much. Through the city is our safest bet. Over."

"Roger that. Over."

"Sir. SAM missiles incoming. Over."

"You know what to do. Take whatever action you deem necessary to avoid them. Over."

Phoenix saw the smoke trails streaking towards them and peeled off to the left, just missing the rocket.

"See if you can lose them with altitude. Over."

"Roger that. Over."

They all started climbing in a near-vertical manner in an attempt to shake of the SAMs. Eventually, they did lose the missiles… but were now faced with black clouds of death.

"Flak! Okay, higher altitudes won't fix our problems, men. Our last option is lower altitude. See that metropolis down there? Aim for that. The Commies wouldn't dare fire SAMs into their precious city. Once you come out the other end, use your afterburners for about a minute or so to get out of range of the SAMs. Over."

"We copy that, Angel One. Over."

Now, to drop the altitude they had just gained, the eight pilots began a freefall towards the city. About 300 feet above the high-rise buildings, they started leveling off and dropped into the canyon of buildings.

"I recommend we vary our altitudes to avoid crashing. Over."

"Agreed. Starting at 50 feet, we'll increase our altitude in order of Squad Number in increments of 15 feet. Over."

"Copy that. Over."

Phoenix dropped down low, taking the lead and dictating what course they would take. He saw their canyon narrowing and saw a wider opening to the left.

"Left turn at 11 o'clock. Over."

"Roger. Over."

They all, in turn, angled left and pulled in to the next street of buildings. What they were met with surprised all of them.

"I'm seeing reports from rifles down below. Over."

"I see them too. Over."

Indeed, it seemed like an alarm had alerted the town of their presence and some sort of town militia had come out to gun them down.

"Airspace is too narrow to return fire, soldiers. Ignore them unless they fall directly into your current course. That's an order. Over."

"Understood. Over."

Phoenix heard several bullets ricochet harmlessly off of his wing. He just hoped one wouldn't find his payload.

"Set of freeway overpasses ahead. Should we pull up to avoid it? Over."

"That's a negative. Pulling up will put us back in range of the SAMs. Have any of you been stunt pilots before? Over."

"No sir. But it seems like this is our first lesson. Over."

"You got that right. Stay on my six and follow me. Over."

"Just don't get us killed, sir. Over."

Phoenix chuckled to himself and dropped down to level himself with the overpasses, grinning. The people down below would be getting quite a show in a moment.

"Fasten your seatbelts, boys, because here we go. Over."

After he flew over the first road, Phoenix dropped down to pass under the second one. He hit a half-barrel roll and took the next bridge upside down.

"Is this really necessary, sir? Over."

"Now's not the time to be questioning authority, soldier. Over."

The pilot may have been right, but Phoenix was having fun. Besides, Carville had told him these were the best of the best… they could handle it. He altered his course a few points to the left to fly over a rising overpass and then rolled 90 degrees to fly between a pair of pylons to get past the last bridge. Once he was out, he glanced behind him to see if all his wingmen were there.

"Did everyone make it out alright? Over."

"Yes sir… let's not try that again, though. Over."

"I hear you. Over."

They continued flying through the city, finally rocketing out of the other side with afterburners on full. Phoenix saw the SAMs coming after them, but saw they were no match for the afterburners. He smirked when he saw them explode harmlessly in mid-air.

"Scrambled fighters coming from Five and Seven o'clock. Over."

"Split up and take them on. Over."

Phoenix saw the fighters on his radar and he was worried. He saw about six coming from both airbases, and he could afford to send only four to match each squad. He'd have to hope these men really were the best of the best.

He joined the group headed for Seven o'clock squadron. He checked his gauge and saw his cache of micro missiles was about ¾ full. He figured that would easily be enough.

"Five o'clock sub-squadron. Change to a different frequency so as to avoid confusion between sub-squadrons. Over."

"Roger. Over."

When the opposing fighters were close enough to look slightly bigger than black dots, Phoenix radioed to his squadron, "Engage when you see fit. Over."

"The one on the left is mine. Over."

"Target locked… I'm taking you down, Red…"

Phoenix smiled as he saw a missile zip from one of his wingmen and strike one of the approaching fighters.

"I'll be right back. Play nice, children. Over."

He hit the Red Button, dropped down below his squadron mates and raced forward full throttle. He passed by the Red fighters undetected, S-turned to come up behind them. By that time, his mirage effect wore off and the Reds had undoubtedly noticed him.

'Too late.' Phoenix thought to himself. He saw one break formation to turn back and face him. Phoenix was waiting for this, and while the fighter was halfway through its turn, the point where the most surface area was exposed to Phoenix, the Commander unleashed his barrage of rockets upon the unfortunate Soviet. The aircraft went up in flames and Phoenix turned his attention towards the remaining wing of Soviets. He saw another one explode, due to one of his wingmen's rockets, and then saw them open fire upon his Harriers.

"Not on my watch, you don't." Phoenix muttered to himself, locking on to one of the peripheral fighters and firing one of his heat-seeking missiles.

POW! Three to go. Unfortunately, they had split up, because his wingmen had engaged in evasive actions. Phoenix was now hesitant to use his micro missiles, as he may accidentally hit one of his own pilots.

His worries were put at ease when two more of the Reds were shot down.

"Commander? I've got one on my tail. Assistance requested. Over."

"Coming in. Over."

Phoenix came up behind the enemy aircraft, took careful aim, and fired two or three micro missiles, which easily made contact with the Red…

FWISH.

… but not before the Soviet pilot fired off a missile.

"No… Soldier! Take evasive action!" But by then it was too late. The missile had found its mark, and Phoenix heard the pilot frantically giving readings of his current status. But the Commander sighed and shook his head. He knew it wouldn't help the pilot any. A hit at point blank range like that pretty much doomed any aircraft on the receiving end of the blow. All the pilot could do was eject from the aircraft to escape death… death at the hands of the vehicle, anyway. The problem was that he would be ejecting into Soviet territory… a dangerous place for any lone soldier except maybe for Special Agent Tanya.

"God damn, I hate losing soldiers like that…" He muttered to himself.

His remaining wingmen flew full throttle to get a status report on the other four pilots Phoenix had dispatched. Their dogfight was over as well, and they had lost two pilots during the battle.

"Alright… let's hope we don't get a situation like that again, okay? Over."

"Roger. Over."

"Main target coming up over that hill. Over."

"I see it. Over."

"Alright men, this is it. Three of our brethren went down so that we could accomplish our mission. Let's try not to fail them. Fire your main armaments once you are in range. Over."

"Understood. Over."

They continued flying towards the Silo until it was about a mile away.

"Target in range. Firing Firestorm Bombs. Over."

"Unleashing main armament. Over."

"Opening bombing bay doors. Over."

"Dropping ballistics now. Over."

"Giving those Soviets a piece of my mind. Over."

As each set of high tech explosives raced toward the silo, Phoenix grinned in satisfaction. There was NO way those things could be shot down in time.

Sure enough, each one hit the silo in succession, engulfing the tower in a fiery inferno as it collapsed from its weakened structural support.

"Such a beautiful sight… Over."

"Amen to that. Let's go home, boys. Over."

A/N: … and on their flight home, a wing of 500 P.O.ed Soviet pilots caught up with them and blew them to smithereens. The end.

Next chapter will come when it's finished, let's leave it at that. Let me know if you thought this chapter was of good length, or if you would like it to be longer/shorter/etc.