444 Air Force Base
July 4th, 2019 08:40
Trigger let the stencil fall to the ground as he put down his can of spray paint. He blew on the newly layered black paint slightly, then just looked at his work. Humming an old tune as he worked, he smiled, honest to god smiled. He hadn't felt like this for a while.
Painting was always a good thing for him, it focused his mind, and calmed him.
It might have been a weird hobby for a fighter pilot to have, but hey, it was his hobby. He got to choose it, anyone who wanted to judge him could stuff it. He chuckled at that, he may be a damn good pilot, but in person, he was not confrontational. Or at least, not to much.
As he stepped down the ladder, humming the old tune again, the words long lost from his memory.
Well…bits and peaces were starting to come back.
Tigger stepped back, taking a moment to admire the work he had done. His own emblem had never looked better, under the three sin lines, towards the front of the tail wing, a shining revolver within the jaws of an orange furred wolf. Behind it, a seal, proudly seated upon a rock, kept simple, just like Prez asked. It had been a while since he had actually been impressed with his own work. The sin lines were annoying, but the moment he tried to touch them, the guard got uppity. So, the sin lines stayed, unfortunately.
"Huh, Nice work."
Trigger jumped a little, but recognized the voice, he turned to see the Scrap Queen. She limped her way into the hanger, face covered in grease marks, her top splashed with machine oil. Followed by some other inmates who worked as ground crew, they were carrying an awful lot of equipment.
"You're a damn good painter…might commission you for something if we ever get out of this mess." She looked genuinely impressed.
"Ah, thank you." He smiled slightly, looking at all the equipment that was being brought in, he was confused. This looked everything needed for a equipment change or overhaul. "Whats that for?"
She just looked over to Trigger with a smirk. "Curious? Well, turns out you all will be heading out soon, Bandog asked me to equip your planes for air to ground combat. Luckily, we got these delivered." She walked over to a crate that was being brought in, and popped off the lid. "Apparently these are newly made from Gründer Industries, Starfire long range anti-ship missiles. Top of the line kit, just came in today." She motioned for Trigger to come over to her.
They looked like giant spears. He was honestly shocked, the missiles were massive. He looked to the Scrap Queen in confusion. She had to be pulling his leg.
She looked back at him, that smug smirk on her lips. "Take it as a thank you, for actually doing the maintenance checks. Unlike some people!" She turned, glaring at the other inmates she had dragged along.
Trigger chuckled as they quickly shrunk under her gaze.
"Alright you lot! Get to work! Don't mess anything up or I'll have your heads." She huffed, then walked off, once more motioning for Trigger to follow.
"Thank you. For the missiles." He paused, realizing that he didn't really know what to call her. Sure everyone called her the Scrap Queen, but that was very different from a callsign. It was more like what you called someone your group didn't like but didn't like all that much when they weren't in the same room.
"No, thank you. You just set a standard here that everyone will have to step up to." Her smirk had returned, bigger than before.
"Eh?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Well, you two did the job no one else was willing to do. Actually maintain their aircraft." She scoffed. "So now, all the other pilots feel like they've been one upped. Especially Count." She paused, letting her voice take on a sarcastic tone. "Surprising, I know."
"Indeed." He smiled back as he replied. She wasn't half bad, scary as all hell, but not bad. Maybe someone he could trust. "I must ask…"
That set her off, she scowled at him. "What? Is it something stupid?"
He quickly shook his head. "No no." Trigger swallowed slightly and cleared his throat. "What should I call you?"
The Scrap Queen paused, her eyes filled with rage, then confusion. She glanced down at the floor for a moment, then back to Trigger. "Why?"
"Only polite." he shrugged, that was his honest answer. He just wanted to be polite and stay on her good side. Something told him calling her the Scrap Queen would make things much more difficult, and possibly a bit painful.
She eyed him carefully, she knew why he was here. She had heard the rumors at first, and could hardly believe them. Then she was told by Tabloid that the base commander had confirmed it. Hell, she was going to thank him for avenging her dad and herself. But then…she actually met him, he was just sitting there, quietly waiting. The rumors and the person just didn't add up, now this. Most just called him Harling's murderer just like she was always called the Scrap Queen. A jab or insult? Maybe. A sign of respect? Perhaps. Could even be something else.
Her gaze settled on his eyes, then she stepped forward and extended a hand. "Avril, call me Avril."
Trigger accepted the handshake happily, "Nice to meet you."
Avril chuckled slightly, he was so polite and talkative all of a sudden. "Ah. Well…I should get to work…shouldn't I?"
"Well…should at least keep an eye on them," he motioned to the inmates working as ground crew. "Keep them out of trouble."
Avril rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you're probably right, thanks again Trigger." She waved her hand slightly as she limped her way over to the Wyvern, yelling a bit and pulling out a wrench from her belt.
Trigger just chuckled, for how much Bandog went on about prisoners not using anything without supervision. There was only one guard here, and all the inmates were armed with tools…Nah, he didn't need more shit to deal with, time to head out, he had finished his work. Anything was better than solitary honestly.
As he left, he waved back to Avril. He'd have to find Prez, tell her about the missiles. They would be all hers if she knew how to use them. He'd worked with Anti-ship missiles before, though, to be honest, he'd never actually gotten to use them against an actual ship. But in his experience, the answer to any ground target was a LASM.
Making his way through the hangers, up to the prison yard, Trigger comes across the sight in the yard that has become normal to him. High Roller, siting on a crate taking bets, for almost anything. This time was no different. He was almost surrounded by the other members of Spare Squadron
"What do you mean by, 'I can do it better.'" High Roller had a confused look on his face, squinting slightly.
"Everything! I can do better than those two in everything, I'll prove it, next time we go up." Count was leaning over High Roller, his voice oozing with his self absorbed ego.
"What? More planes downed?" High roller scoffed. "I dunno about that, the two of them went over ace. Fourteen planes downed in total, compared to your four?" He shook his head. "Those are rookie numbers Count. We're all rookies here."
"No, I was just rusty, in the air I am free and powerful. I know I can do better in our next mission."
"Mission?" High Roller looked to his left, "Full Band…What did you tell him." He jerked a thumb at Count on his right.
Full Band just crossed his arms. "Well…I just got some intel, just a little bit though. Since we've done so well so far and Erusea is starting to catch on that we haven't officially deployed anything. Top Brass wants the base commander to actually send us out to hit a target."
Trigger raised an eyebrow at this, and approached slowly. "Waiapolo Mountains?" He looked at Full Band as he pushed his way through the crowd.
Full Band shrunk slightly at Trigger's sudden arrival. "I don't know that! I just know we're apparently going to be hitting some ground targets. Probably just a simple mission really, alright?"
"That…" Trigger just glared at Full Band. "Is not intel." He tilted his head, what was the word? "That is…" He thought a bit longer, bitting his lip as his brain tried to figure out what he was thinking of. "Gossip…" Not the word he wanted, but hopefully would get the point across. It seemed that it did, because Full band just shrunk even more.
"Well, well, well, is someone getting cold feet?"
Trigger's head snapped towards Count. "No." He huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Just like a little more intel, with my intel."
"So what is it then? If it's not intel?"
"Chit chat."
That got a chuckle out of the other Spare Squadron members, Tabloid especially.
Count just sighed, then put a hand on High Roller's back. "Look, how about this Trigger, lets get this settled."
"This?" He raised an eyebrow. Really wishing Prez was here right now to shut up Count, it worked so well when they were fighting above the base.
"Who's the better pilot of course!" Count strode forwards. "Look, here." He pulled out a wad of cash. "I bet fifty bucks that I'll get more kills then you by the end of the next mission."
Trigger's other eyebrow raised. "Really?"
Count just laughed. "Yes! Of course! Come on, you've got to do this, it's all or nothing here. Come on Trigger, don't you want to find out who's better?"
"Hmmm." He was honestly thinking about just turning and walking away. It would be simple, just turn on his heels, and march away. A small piece of him however, wanted to see how Count would react to being beaten by such a large margin. If Full Band's gossip was even remotely accurate, then Avril's gift of the LASM's would give Prez and him the absolute advantage. Yes the Su-33 could be equipped with LASM'S too, but due to the Wyvern's design he knew he would be able to hold more of the heavy missiles than Count's Su-33. His eyes slid over to Count.
Count looked like he was going to burst from anticipation, the prison yard was also completely silent. Everyone was enthralled by this single exchange. Probably wasn't the best idea to pull off all those flashy moves. Eh, he'd be fine. Trigger slowly turned towards Count.
"Damn right I do asshat!" Prez suddenly appeared in the crowd, muscling her way to the front and right into Count's face. "You think you've got more skill then us as you sit on your ass twiddling your thumbs all day? I know you got a reduced solitary time because you fibbed your numbers last time you shitboot!" She jabbed him in the chest.
"Woah! Woah! Such hostility!" Count backed up a bit, but Prez stayed right in his face. "Who says I lied on my kill report? I'm sure they don't know shit."
Prez grinned slyly. "Oh you know, just a little someone who goes by the callsign of Bandog. You know…just…our AWAC's! That guy who sits upstairs managing our iff's, gives us long range radar, and what's that last thing?" She leans back, finger tapping her chin. "Oh It's on the tip of my tongue…I just can't remember."
"Monitors how many enemies there are, where they are, and when they are firing or being fired at? Therefore knows exactly when an enemy plane has been shot down?" Full Band spoke up, then immediately shut his mouth when Count glared at him.
"So in other words…Bandog counts our actual kills? And you checked with him on Count's report." Tabloid had the biggest grin on his face, looking Count straight in the eye.
Count's only response was to glare harder.
Tabloid just winked.
"Ding, ding! We have a winner!" Prez pointed to Tabloid and gave him a thumbs up. "So, you lying bastard…apparently we have a score to settle. Ain't that right, Trigger?"
He slowly approached High Roller, rage filled his chest. Once again he had to suffer more for the death of Harling. Once again everything had to be his fault, and someone else got to reap the rewards. He had to sit in solitary loosing his mind for a whole day. Yet Count gets to run free? If Count got a reduced sentence for lying, well, Trigger would just have to outdo his lies. He stood in front of High Roller, glaring down at him, and pulled out the twenties he had gotten from Prez's earlier bet. It came to eighty dollars.
High Roller looked over the money in shock, then nodded in approval. He took a deep breath, then turned to everyone else. "Alright! Lets get started people! Who do you think will get the most kills? Both ground and air targets will be counted in this and we'll be confirming with Bandog later."
The prison yard exploded into action, everyone trying to get their bets in place.
Prez took Trigger by the forearm and led him through the crowd, she weaved through, bringing them out the other side, over to a corner of the yard.
"Well…I guess I got us into that…sorry."
Trigger shook his head and held up a hand, he wasn't going to judge her for something he was going to do himself.
Prez's eyes widened. "Wait what? No no no, you? You were going to go for it!?"
He just nodded, Count was being an ass.
"Well yes, he was." She scoffed. "But still, didn't think you would want to put him in his place like that."
"Times change…"
"Ah, so they do." Prez grinned, then gently elbowed his side. "Glad to see you in better spirits today."
He smiled back at her. "Trying. Doing well." He paused, looking up at the sky. "Finished the emblems."
"Oh wait you did?!"
"Mhmm, Looks nice."
"You didn't do anything super fancy for mine right?" She glared at him.
"I promised." he smirked. "Kept the promise."
"Good." She smiled back at him. "So, we're going to kick Count's ass right?"
Trigger just chuckled, his smirk grew wider. "Absolutely."
"Oh! Ohhhh!" Prez looked at him in slight shock. "Good thing I've been training my bracing technique lately." She paused as someone made their way through the crowd towards them. "Tabloid? Whats up?" Crossing her arms with a slight glare.
"Well, you two have been hiding out lately or it's been one or the other. I just wanted to say thank you, for helping me out the other day." He shrugged. "Thats all, I swear."
Prez narrowed her eyes at Tabloid, sure, he seemed nice. But…she didn't want to trust him to easily.
"You're welcome." Trigger nodded once at Tabloid, "Glad to see you got out safe."
"All thanks to you really, never seen someone try to dogfight while their FCS is locked."
Trigger just shrugged. "Did it all the time in training."
"Huh…That makes sense. To bad I never got any official training huh?" Tabloid laughed heartily. "I may just try to stick by you, see what I can learn, if thats alright with you two?"
Trigger looked to Prez.
She huffed slightly, but nodded.
Trigger grinned and nodded as he looked back to Tabloid. "If you can keep up."
Tabloid's eyes went wide, then he broke into even more laughter. "Oh! Ohhhhh! Okay okay, No I like you two." He just grinned, "I'll do my best, promise."
Trigger smiled slightly, for someone who claims they don't have any official training, he flew pretty good. Honestly, hell they all flew pretty good. He squinted slightly, looking around the yard. From what he had heard, before he and Prez had arrived, they had flown at least five sorties. So that was probably the best training they could ask for. Pretty close to his training, just with little to no hands on help.
"No yeah, I'd agree, thats actually a really impressive way to get trained. I mean, it was probably absolutely terrifying and they might have lost some people…" She frowned and glared slightly. "Stupid fucking base commander."
Stupid base commander indeed, he was one stuck up prick, just as bad as the politicians who sent him here. Probably why he got sent here, he had read articles about Osea's prison system and how fucked up it was. Especially when it came to anyone of Belkan descent. It wasn't right really, even with the war almost twenty five years ago.
"I mean…Wait wait wait. Are you?" She pointed to Trigger.
He looked back at her then shook his head quickly. "Usean."
"Ahhhh I see, sorry, just… you know, Osean Prison system and all that. Though I have no idea if anyone here is? So I think that theory is out."
"Wait….what just happened?"
Prez and Trigger looked at Tabloid. "Eh?"
"Trigger didn't say anything there. Yet you were talking with him." He squinted at the two slightly, scratching his cheek.
"Oh! Right! Yeah no, I just…I just…Ummm, how do I put this?" Prez purses her lips and runs a hand through her hair. "I just understand what he's saying."
Tabloid just shakes his head. "But he didn't say anything?!"
"Yeah, with his voice no, but he did say everything with his expressions. It takes a while, but you get used to it." She shrugs. "I also know sign language, and if you notice, he sometimes uses it."
"He does?!" Tabloid's jaw dropped slightly.
"Yeah! Watch this!" She turns towards Trigger. Extending an arm with splayed out fingers, she waved it up and down slightly, then pointed at him.
Trigger looked at her, made a fist held up near his chin, then nodded twice, his fist mimicking the motion.
Prez got a wicked grin on her face. She took her right hand hand, fingers together, holding it perpendicular to herself, tapping her chin with her thumb pointing left, so only her index finger touched.
Trigger paused, pouted, and did the same motion, then flipped her the bird.
Prez just giggled. "Ohhhhhhh my gosh I need to do that more. It's so nice to have someone who does sign language!"
Tabloid just looks shocked. "Wait…so are you two just constantly having secret conversations."
"Yeah, all the time. Our cells are right across from each other. We do it so we don't get in trouble." She sighed. "And yeah, I know it sounds like something a couple of eight year old neighbors would do, but it fucking works!"
"Most of the time." Trigger grinned.
"Wait…but why?" Tabloid looked curious.
"Don't like talking."
"Eh…fair point." A chuckle escaped Tabloid's lips. "Talking is overrated out here. Everyone thinks you're either up to something…or trying to get something out of them. Tried talking to the Scrap Queen a day ago, she brushed me off fast. Only one who talks honestly most of the time is High Roller, though thats mostly because he's got a business to run."
A crackle of static interrupted the prison yard's activities, everyone looked up to the speaker above the yard entrance. "Spare Squadron, report to the briefing room. Spare Squadron, report to the briefing room immediately. That is all." The basewide announcement ended with a click.
Tabloid looked back at them. "Well…lets see if Full Band was right." He waved them on.
Full Band was wrong.
This was not a simple mission, Trigger just knew it. The large map on the wall, the amount of paperwork and aids sat around on computers. The last time he saw a briefing room this full was the attack on the space elevator and that was between three different branches and four squadrons of the IUN.
"Settle down! Settle down! All prisoners take your seats!" McKinsey made his way to the tac screen and booted it up. Everyone was milling about, taking their time. "Sit down! I'll give you ten seconds to take your seats, anyone still standing will be thrown into solitary." That got convicts moving fast.
Trigger didn't have to worry though, he, Prez, and Tabloid had found a nice spot in the corner, just watching as a last few members scrambled for their seats.
Prez giggled slightly, covering her mouth.
"Your Mission, is to atone for your crimes by attracting the enemy's attention."
Prez and Trigger looked at each other, then sighed. No one gave a shit what they said, but they could still be pissed about it.
Prez tilted her head, then leaned over to Tabloid, whispering gently. "Is that a normal term of phrase he uses?"
Tabloid quickly shook his head.
"First I want you to head from the base to the desert region of Roca Roja to the northwest." A map of Usea was shown on the tac screen. Showing the direction they were to travel. McKinsey tapped the location on the map on the wall behind him, marked with a red X. "And then second, you will attack the large Erusean base there. We've been unable to verify that base's ability to deal with fighters." A zoomed in window popped up on the tac screen, showing three target locations, "You will attack and provoke the enemy into revealing their AA strategy." Multiple pop ups showed recon plane images of all kinds of ground to air defenses. SAMs, AA guns, AA tanks, Radar vehicles, more SAMs.
Trigger frowned deeply, correction, Full Band was completely wrong. Some Intel he had gotten his hands on. Though, he was right about a mission coming up…there might be some value listening to him in the future.
"Get them to fire at you as much as you can. That way we can confirm where they are firing from. Then it's a case of sending in our regular force to clean them out." McKinsey paused for a moment, letting the statement sink in.
"Oh….oh no." Prez looked horrified. Everything would be focused on them, and only them. No other support.
"For this mission, we've prepared a frontline base that can be used for ammo replenishment and aircraft repairs."
Trigger let out a slight sigh of relief.
"However, this is not for you guys."
Then sucked in his breath, fists clenched. Oh Fuck this…he was using that return line. They could threaten all of the solitary time in the world. He wasn't going into this hellhole with no support and no rearm and refuel.
"Only the regular force has permission to use it. Even if you run out of ammo, don't forget you're just decoys. You stay out there as targets for the enemy." McKinsey turned back towards them. "Any questions?"
Trigger raised a hand, he needed to know approximate numbers, targets of interest, rules of engagement for this mission, and a god damn distraction so he didn't deck McKinsey right there.
McKinsey rolled his eyes. "Trigger."
His hand slowly lowered. "What intel do we have on the base?"
"Three separate bases actually, the south most base has an airfield. North of that is a network of canyons with logistics and lots of AA. To the west is the final base, it's got some storage and supplies along with some AA. Thats what we know mostly."
Prez spoke up. "Targets of interest? And do we have permission to take out what we can?"
McKinsey nodded. "You'll be weapons free on this op inmates, you can do as much damage as possible. The more you do, the easier you'll make it for the regular forces. But remember, any actions you make reflect highly on me. I expect you all to show off the use of a penal unit in Osean forces."
Prez frowned slightly. "Right…" She crossed her arms once more.
Triggers fists stayed clenched, he would occasionally stretch his fingers, slowly, carefully, his knuckles slightly cracking.
McKinsey ignored the looks he was getting. "Alright! Sortie immediately, Bandog is already in the air, the ready crews have prepared your planes." He turns and leaves, quickly.
Trigger stood slowly, following along with the others. His heart burned with rage.
How dare they.
How Fucking Dare They!
He gave everything to the IUN, they threw him away.
Now he has to give everything to Osea. They see him as an expendable resource? Fuck them, at least the IUN paid him. Osea though? Ah no, he has to 'Pay off his crimes' by throwing himself into an almost doomed mission.
They were being treated like drones.
Osea had drones! They made the god damned arsenal birds! Yet he had yet to see a single damned drone flying Osean colors! What the hell happened to all the talk of drones replacing pilots in the sky? His flight instructor had seen that article! Our Science published that article saying that drone fighters would be the future! No need for humans to even fight wars anymore.
Yet here he was.
Fighting in a war with no cause of his own.
He just has to fight.
He slammed his locker close. Fuck Osea, Fuck the IUN. A bunch of politicians that were just using him as a way to make themselves feel more powerful. Hell if he got the chance in the future he will tell them to go fuck themselves. Kinda sad he didn't do it before.
Here he was now, walking off to his certain doom. A mission with no support, no reinforcements, and little intel. 'A lot of AA.' What does that even mean? Absolutely stupid. The base commander didn't give two shits though did he? He was just looking to further his own career wasn't he? God…if he could, he w-
"Trigger!" Someone tugged on his arm, He froze, looking down and too his right. Prez?
"Yes! What the hell happened man? You went into a trance or something." She looked extremely worried.
He looked around, he was already through the doors to the hanger. Ah wait, he needs his flight suit and helmet. He turns around and pauses, looking into his reflection in the glass door to see his helmet in his hands, his flight suit was already zipped up too. "Ah…" He looked…broken…His hair was disheveled, there were specks of paint on his face, his fist was still gripped tightly. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Sorry."
Prez looked at him, then back to the door. "You…you alright?"
"Just…angry…I don't like this."
She huffed and crossed her arms. "I don't either, but we don't have a choice." She started marching her way towards the X-02's hanger.
Trigger nodded, then followed. "Thats why I'm pissed."
"I getcha."
They walked past Champ's hanger, he glared their way. Prez flipped him off, talking as she did. "I think we just gotta get through this. It seems like the base commander is wanting to pull of something big so he can get more recognition. So hopefully that means this is the craziest mission we'll have."
"And if not?"
They passed through Count's hanger. He glared at Trigger a bit, but nodded slowly. Trigger nodded back as they passed through.
Prez pointed at Count, then to her eyes, then back to him, glaring.
Count frowned and shrugged in confusion with one arm.
Prez was already looking straight ahead. checking the strap on her helmet before she put it on. "If not? Then it's going to be rough ride."
Trigger chuckled. "Well, we're sticking together, right?"
"Hell yeah." She smiled at him as they passed through the second to last hanger, funny enough, belonging to Tabloid's Mirage. He paused halfway up the ladder to his cockpit, and gave them a mock salute.
Trigger chuckled, and returned it with a crisp salute. Prez followed suit. All of them got a good chuckle out of it, then Tabloid got into his cockpit.
"Tabloid's not so bad honestly. Don't you think?" Prez looked back at Trigger again.
Trigger nodded. "Yeah."
"Probably will stick with him at dinner when we get back." She smiled slightly.
"Avril too."
"Avril?" She tilted her head in confusion.
"Scrap Queen."
"Oh? Oh! Why do you say that?" She turned around, walking backwards.
He grinned back. "You'll see." He motioned forward, to the Strike Wyvern.
Prez turned, following his hand, and gasped. "Oh! You did finish the emblems!" She quickly ran towards the tail wings, weaving between ground crews who were making their way out. "Trigger these look great! Even if your crazy fox looks awesome."
He rolled his eyes. "Wolf."
She looked back at him, a mocking smirk on her lips. "What kinda wolf is orange Trigger?"
He paused, then shrugged. "Got me there Prez."
"Ah! There they are!" Avril pushed her way through the ground crew. "Was wondering when you would show up."
Trigger nodded to her. "Avril." He pointed back towards the X-02. "How'd the rearmament go?"
Prez tilted her head once more. "Rearmament?"
"Went perfectly, enjoy the LASM's" Avril grinned at the two of them.
Prez's eyes widened, "Woah, woah, woah! You gave us LASM's?"
"Yeah, you two did a good job with the maintenance checks. Thought I'd give you a gift." She smiled. "Best of luck!" She picked up her toolbox and limped away.
"Thanks!" Prez waved to Avril as she made her way out of hanger. Prez paused, then looked back to Trigger. "Dibs."
His eyebrows jumped up and his head tilted down. "On what?"
"The LASM's, I call dibs. They are mine to use now, okay?"
Two nods of his head. The rule of dibs was universal, and no power was above it.
"Good! I'll still run ECM and tactical alright?"
"Deal." Trigger jogged over to the ladder and started climbing. The other squadron members were starting to take off. He stopped mid climb, then looked over to Prez. She was stood still at the rear of the plane. Her eyes locked onto her emblem. "Prez?"
She froze up for a second, then looked over at him. "Huh? Yeah?"
"You coming?" He noticed a single point of light reflecting off her cheek, a drop of water running down her cheek. Must have rinsed her face in the locker room.
She looked back at the tail wing, and smiled. "Yeah…I am." She jogged over to her ladder, wiping her eyes, ready to face what was looking to be, a long hard day.