So, for all you followers you can expect a few quick updates notifications in this month. As on Ao3 we are at chapter 10, so I'm catching up here. I'm so glad to see everyone is liking the story so far too! I have a lot of fun writing this and everyone's reviews so far have been very entertaining and welcoming. Hope you enjoy the next few updates as we catch up, and the upcoming chapter 11.
Trigger took a deep breath.
Elite Peacekeepers.
Barely a month ago he would have given them his full respect, looking up to them as mentors, the veteran predecessors to himself.
They had all turned bloodthirsty it seemed. There was no pause, no questions, no doubt. Crimson squadron heard the order, and increased their speed.
"We've been spiked!" Prez threw up electronic and IR countermeasures. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck."
"Spare Squadron, break off and gun it for base. We'll buy you time." Trigger extended the variable wings and opened flaps. The X-02 instantly fell behind.
"Wait! Trigger what the hell are you doing?!" Tabloid's shocked voice came through the coms first.
Count cut in next. "Who the hell are these guys anyways?!" Sounds of confusion filled the coms, "They're IUN…right? Aren't we allied with them?"
"Peacekeepers. Highly skilled pilots that work to keep things in check in Usea. The IUN is our ally though." Full Band hummed in thought. "I've heard a bit about Crimson here and there. They are supposedly the best of the best. Led by the IUN's top ace. He's a veteran of the continental war, supposedly has hundreds of kills under his belt."
"Hundreds?!"
"Thats what he said Count." Champ huffed slightly. "Full Band! Why the hell are they after us?"
"They want me…" Prez's voice was quiet. "I don't know why they're back, but these are the guys who captured me in the first place."
"Well, maybe you shouldn't have been captured?"
"Champ…I'm going to kick your teeth in if I survive this." She growled into the mic as she slapped her hand down on the ECM equipment to get it running faster.
Champ just laughed. "Round two then? I hope you've got some new tricks."
"Always." She smiled slyly.
Brownie's radio crackled. "Crimson one, Fox Two."
Prez felt her spine shiver. "Shit…" The missile alert kicked in. "Four missiles! Incoming! LAAM's I think?!"
Trigger watched the missiles close in on them, following every small movement Spare Squadron made. "QAAM's" He needed proof Crimson attacked them so they could engage, otherwise it would backfire on him and Prez.
"Missiles closing! Break! Break! Don't end up like High Roller!" Count popped flares and banked right.
"This is bullshit!" Champ growled and did the same.
Trigger took a deep breath. "Spare Fifteen, engaging." He yanked the stick back, cut the engines, and braced as the post stall turned them right around.
"God Damn It! Trigger!" Prez braced hard, popping their own flares.
As the X-02 finished it's flip, Trigger got exactly what they needed, four missiles clearly caught by their guncam, headed right for them. "Perfect." He slammed the throttle forward, full speed.
"Trigger no! Stick together we'll co-" Tabloid was cut off as they flew out of short range radio radius.
"Sorry Tabloid, can't risk you getting hurt." He frowned, then rolled the X-02 a bit. Lining up with one of Crimson squadron's planes. "Prez, two LASM's fire on my mark."
"Eh? Oh! Okay." Prez quickly pulled up weapons, opening the bay doors.
"One hostile engaging, presuming it's the target." A pause on Brownie's radio, static overtook it for a moment. "Markings check out, confirmed target."
"Copy that, let them come, we'll cut them down."
"Crimson Two to Crimson One, what about their support?"
"They don't matter, they're already fleeing. Focus on your target Crimson Two."
"Roger, tally-ho."
"Crimson Squadron, keep it simple. They're not worth the effort."
Trigger frowned, time to make themselves worth the effort. "Mark." He angled the X-02 up a little bit.
Prez fired two starfire missiles, they dropped out of the bay, and roared to life. Streaking across the sky. "Fox Two, Fox Two!"
Trigger followed the missiles, staying on an intercept course with Crimson Squadron.
"We're low on ammo and fuel to engage Crimson One, my bird might be sluggish."
"Copy, this shouldn't be to hard, intel says they've barely got any good pilots. Hang back if need be Seven."
The Starfires shot through the sky, barely leaving a trail. They were closing in on Crimson Squadron at high speed.
"Copy th-Woah!"
"Missiles! Missiles! Break break break!"
Crimson Squadron scattered out of their formation, popping flares as the two LASM's shot by.
Trigger rushed the squadron. If they thought this was going to be easy, he needed to start picking off planes before they realized it wasn't. He noticed an SU-37 that banked further than the others, he marked it in his hud.
"What the hell was that? Where did those missiles come from? They didn't show up on radar and my alert didn't go off!" The pilot sounded worried, his panicked voice came through Brownie's old radio.
"Ignore that, we've dealt with heavy ECM before Five. Engage."
"Target is right on top of us!"
Trigger dove the Wyvern right into Crimson's formation. Suddenly banking right, bracing hard, and getting right on the tail of the SU-37. He got a lock, and fired.
Two sidewinders dropped and ignited, growling after their target.
"Bogey on my six! Need support!" The Su-37 banked and rolled.
Trigger let off a burst of machine gun fire. It goes wide, but a few bullets hit home.
"Who was it that shot me?" The pilot sounded completely shocked.
"Come on, come on…work damn it!" Prez growls slightly, working as hard as she can to get their sidewinders to track even a little better.
Right as the missiles got close, the SU-37 popped flares, increased its speed, and climbed into a loop.
"I'm on the dog." Crimson One's voice was cold and smug. "Heh, it doesn't matter what you do." An F-22 was gaining on them.
Trigger frowned, and banked left, hard. "Prez, keep that first plane marked?"
"Yeah, yeah I will." She growled more. "God damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it! I'll try my best, you just keep doing you."
"Right." He looked around, and noticed an F-22 that wasn't fully paying attention, he got right behind it and opened fire with his machine guns.
"Thats a fast plane…maybe a bit faster than ours."
"Wait…is that? Crimson Three, confirm, bogey is a Strike Wyvern?"
Trigger rolled to stay on the F-22's tail, the lock wasn't sticking. On top of that the missile alert kept going off.
"Crimson Five, can confirm, definitely a modified Strike Wyvern. Explains the speed for sure."
Prez kept working ECM, keeping missiles and locks off of them as best she could, popping flares when missiles got to close. "Stay on them…stay on them…"
The lock tone blared in Trigger's ears, he fired two missiles and another burst of machine gun fire, but stayed on the F-22. Until it did the same maneuver as the SU-37. Max speed, popped flares, loop. Trigger had to dive and bank right to avoid the F-22 getting behind them.
Prez growled as she braced against the G-forces. "These guys know what they're doing! They've got the tech to do it too." Her ears started ringing as a lock warning went off. "Fuck! Trigger, flares need some time."
A deep chuckle came from Brownie's radio, "Got you now, Fox Two."
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Prez's blood ran ice cold. "Break! Break! Break!"
Trigger rolled the X-02, banked, then dived, missile alert still blaring in his ear. He quickly glanced to his left, and caught a glimpse of a QAAM in his rear view mirror. "Fuck…" The missile alert started getting faster and faster. "Prez, Brace."
Her eyes went wide. "Shit." She braced and nodded once.
He slammed the X-02 into a high-G turn at the last second. Sending the missile just scrapping by them, he even saw it nick some of the grey paint off of their right wing. He then cut the engines, and flipped the X-02 around, firing the machine gun as he attempted to joust with his target.
Crimson One broke off the moment he saw the post stall maneuver. "Hmmm…Three lines?"
Trigger pushed through the opening left behind at full speed. Hoping to break off from the fight.
Two planes followed after him, an SU-37 and a F-22.
"Bogies on us! I'll jam them!" Prez frowned quickly. "No, no, no!"
Trigger had to bank left and roll, avoiding a missile and machine gun fire. "Whats up?"
"I can't jam them!" She smacked her ECM suite a few times. "They've got tone on us!"
He glanced back for a moment and frowned, the missile alert went off. He rolled and went into a high-g loop, but it did nothing.
The F-22 and SU-37 stayed on his tail, they were catching onto his tricks.
He shrugged, time to try something new then. Reaching up, he cut the engines entirely, then extended the flaps a bit. In seconds, he had turned the X-02 from a super sonic experimental fighter plane, into a glider.
It seemed Crimson squadron wasn't expecting him to just slow down. Everything around the X-02 was moving so fast. The F-22 and SU-37 roared past, causing the X-02 to shake a little.
Trigger smiled, easing the engines on slowly. Firing his machine gun in long bursts. Then firing two missiles.
Prez joined in, dropping one more LASM out of their weapons bay.
Tracers ripped into the F-22, blowing out one of it's engines. The Su-37 rolled, taking minimal damage.
"Shit! Target tricked us! how the h-" The sound of metal ripping came over the radio.
The first missile hit it's mark, detonating just off the wing, causing major damage to the wing and fuselage. One engine bursting into fire and smoke. However, the F-22 was still flying, it banked right, attempting to break off.
A growl filled the air as the second missile went for the SU-37, it struck the side of the fuselage and detonated. It broke off as well, banking left.
"I'm trailing smoke!"
"If you are unable to fight disengage. I don't need trash getting a lucky shot off." Crimson One just sounded annoyed.
"Follow that F-22!" Prez growled slightly, "If we take them down, we could get them to back off!"
Trigger nodded, slamming the throttle to full once more and following the smoke.
"Damn it! This is Crimson Six, need support, target isn't letting me break off." The pilot sounded a bit worried, but firm, not desperate.
"Six, this is Crimson Two, I'm coming up on them, head south."
"Copy Two." The F-22 banked again, rolling slightly.
Trigger frowned, but stayed on the F-22, firing off bursts of tracer fire. Trying his best to finish them off or make them bail out. He just needed to get one more hit in…just one more…then Prez would be safe. Crimson would be forced to break off.
The F-22 rolled quickly and kept heading south.
He pressed the trigger again, angling the nose a little to the left, sweeping tracers over the nose of the F-22.
A dive and roll, the F-22 had dodged again.
Trigger dived after it. One plane, and Prez would be safe. One kill for his friend's safety. That was all he needed.
Fire.
Dodged.
The X-02's machine gun roared again.
Dodged.
He didn't want to risk the missiles. These guys were good at getting away from them.
Tracer fire arced across the sky.
Dodged.
Something tapped his shoulder.
Bank right, then left, fire.
Dodged.
The tapping continued.
He had to protect Prez. He squeezed the trigger.
The F-22 dodged.
He fired again.
If he didn't succeed here, Prez was in danger.
Dodged.
Again.
This F-22 had to go down.
Dodged.
Fire again.
They had to die.
Dodged.
"Trigger! Break!"
He froze for just a second as his brain snapped back into reality, the bloodlust faded. Prez shaking his shoulder, a missile alert ringing in his ear, his radar flashing as two missiles closed in on them.
"Missile! Missile! Missile!" The robotic voice echoed in his ear.
His eyes widened.
He slammed the X-02 into a roll, then banked away from his target.
Both missiles roared by them, growling in confusion as they missed their mark.
"They've got tone still! Disengage!" Prez barked the order out. "I'm n-" She froze and took a deep breath. "Lets focus on getting out of here."
He paused then nodded. It was probably for the best, he would just need to shake this new F-22.
"Crimson Two, Fox Two. This'll take them down."
Crimson Two was right on top of them, they were out of flares, and running out of time to. Trigger could maneuver the X-02 to take the hit and keep flying. Unless…well he co-
"Woah! Breaking off!" Crimson Two pulled up into a loop, dodging three missiles that tracked for a bit before loosing their lock.
Trigger's head snapped to the right, following the missile contrails.
"Who the hell fired those?" Prez looked back and forth around the cockpit, then to the radar. Two planes, flying in a very loose formation.
The coms crackled to life. "Hey there, looks like you could use a hand Trigger."
Prez let out a deep breath, chuckling slightly. "Count! You bastard! The hell are you doing here?"
"Well I just thought you could use a little hand, can't let you and Trigger have all the glory." Count's SU-33 flew by, chasing after Crimson Two.
"Where the hell did they get reinforcements?!"
"Crimson Two, it's possible this is the support from earlier that flew off."
"It doesn't matter, focus on the target!"
Tabloid's laughter filled the coms. "Oh come on Count, be honest."
"I am being honest Tabloid, now keep following me."
"Right, right, it's not like I told you if Trigger and Prez get off'd you'll never find out who's better."
Prez giggled. "No! You didn't Tabloid!"
Tabloid just laughed again. "You'll find out later." His Mirage followed after the F-22 and Count.
Trigger just shook his head, holding back a chuckle. Kicking the X-02 into a roll, he got ready to dogfight again.
"Trigger, I've got an idea." She sighed. "I can't believe I'm suggesting this…"
He paused, rolling and banking again, keeping away from Crimson squadron. "Eh?"
"Crimson here, there's a pattern or system they are using when dealing with missiles. Pop flares, up into a loop. What if we went into a tighter loop before they did and used the guns?"
Trigger looked back at her for a second, then nodded. "This is going to hurt."
"Ahhh I dunno about you." She laughed. "I'm already braced. Tagged the F-22 that we almost had. Go get em."
The F-22 had flown off to the south east a bit, staying on the edge of the battle, close enough to be supported. However, it was still smoking.
Trigger dived the X-02 into the smoke trail, dodging and weaving through a few missiles that came by. He was honestly considering disconnecting the missile alert right then and there.
"Crimson Six here, that Strike Wyvern is on me again, might need support." The F-22 dove into a roll, then banked towards the middle of the fight.
The X-02 gave chase as Trigger banked left hard, following after the F-22. He quickly slammed into a roll as one of the SU-37's attempted to joust them.
The SU-37 rolled slightly as well, then broke off, realizing it would need to correct it's approach. Tabloid and Count dove down from above, guns blazing as they followed after the SU-37.
"Better hurry up murderer! Someone might steal your kill." Count laughed lightly, angling his plane so he could see Trigger and Prez through his cockpit. He gave a small mock salute before continuing by. "Got good tone. This one's wing is a little clipped."
Trigger just smiled, "What'da know…Count's actually not an ass sometimes."
"Pfft, so it seems." Prez was tapping away at the ECM. "Alright Trigger, keep on him, I almost got him."
He nodded as he pushed the Strike Wyvern into a dive once more. Chasing after the wounded F-22 wasn't hard, the smoke billowing out from it's right engine made it obvious.
"Target is still on me!"
"Crimson Six, just shake them off, wait for them to fire a missile. You know what to do."
"Copy One."
"Got him, we'll have good tone on him the moment we get into range." Prez pulled up the radar, marked Crimson Six on their hud.
"Copy that." Trigger pushed the throttle to full. Quickly gaining on the F-22.
"Shit! They're right on me!" Crimson Six was starting to sound panicked. "What the hell is with this speed? What the hell is with this plane? An Osean Strike Wyvern?! With three lines?"
The X-02 was rolled into position, then, the lock stuck. Trigger paused, then switched his coms to Brownie's radio. "Got good tone. Spare Fifteen. Fox Two." He pulled the trigger.
"Wait what?!"
Two growling sidewinders dropped out of the X-02's bays. They ignited almost immediately, going straight after the F-22.
"Shit shit shit! Missiles!" Crimson six waited a moment, "Come on….come on…." The F-22 banked right hard, the missiles followed.
Trigger followed, hitting the high-G turn like it was nothing.
"Wait for it…" Prez stayed completely focused. Her and Trigger were getting out of this alive. Everyone was today. She'd wouldn't have it any other way. "Wait for it."
The missiles closed in, barely fifty meters away from their target.
The F-22 angled it's nose up just barely.
"Now Trigger!" Prez marked a point on their hud, the expected course of the F-22.
Trigger yanked the stick back. Feeling the pull of gravity push him back into his seat like a freight train.
The F-22 dumped flares, and climbed into it's loop.
"No…" Crimson Six watched as the Strike Wyvern, a supposedly easy target flown by an inexperienced mechanic. Made a high-G maneuver, staying ahead of him on a tight axis.
Trigger's finger pressed down, hard. Tracers shot forward, arcing across the sky towards the F-22. Cutting through the wing and ripping into the fuselage.
The F-22 hung in the air for just a moment, then started to fall as it's last engine gave out.
On the other side of the battle, a SU-37 disappeared in a ball of fire.
"Hell Yeah! Got one!" Count's voice filled the coms. "Not so tough now! That'll teach you to mess with Spare Squadron!"
"Hrm? All pilots disengage!" Crimson one's usually calm voice was heightened with rage. "I'm not risking any more losses because of these bloodthirsty dogs."
"Sir! What about Six and Four?!"
Trigger rolled a bit, watching the F-22 fall to the ground, the canopy bursted off, a parachute appeared a few seconds later. Moments later another parachute joined it.
"We've done all we can…We're getting out of here." All of Crimson suddenly turned and ran. Heading back the way they came.
"Oh my god! We did it! We actually fucking did it!" Prez cheered happily. "Thats right! You better get outa my radar range! Run!"
Trigger smiled as he lightly banked the X-02, determined link back up with the rest of Spare Squadron as quickly as possible.
Brownie's radio crackled one more time, "They put up quite a fight, didn't they?"
There was a slight sigh, Crimson One took a moment to respond. "They got lucky. Return to base." The channel closed.
"Holy hell…We chased them off!" Tabloid laughed. "I can't believe it! Those were peacekeepers, honest to god peacekeepers. Oh my god we shot two down!" His laughter stopped suddenly. "Oh god we shot two down…what the fuck are we going to do?!"
Count chuckled. "Oh there's always a way we can just cover this up."
"No need."
"The hell do you mean 'no need' Trigger? We just fought against, from what Full Band said, the IUN's best pilots! I'm pretty sure it's their word against ours, and with how we're treated in general, those are not good odds." Count suddenly bit back, his calm demeanor gone.
Prez giggled slightly.
"What the hell are you laughing about Prez?!"
"Ohhhhhh you know…the fact that we got gun cam footage of the peacekeepers opening fire on us. Also the fact that all of our radio chatter is recorded."
"Ooooo, yeah that'll do it." Tabloid chuckled, getting into formation with the Strike Wyvern.
"Wait really?" Count did the same on the opposite side. "So we're not fucked?"
"Nah, sadly neither are Crimson." Trigger sighed, taking deep breaths as he calmed down.
"How?" Tabloid's upset confusion was understandable. "I may not know much about the military, but I'm pretty sure threatening and opening fire on allied forces. Even if they are classified as a penal unit is grounds for some kind of punishment. Right?"
Trigger had to swallow bile as he remember what Clown said at the lighthouse. "The IUN can't coordinate between branches. It'll get caught up in political red tape." He gripped the controls tightly.
"Ah fuck, well thats just great." Tabloid just sighs. "And here I thought we would have a one up on them."
"You think we'll see them again?" Count spoke up suddenly, his voice a little quiet.
Prez sucked in a breath quickly.
"If we do, we'll be prepared next time. For now, let's not worry about it, we're a little scraped up, but we're okay. Lets head back to base." Trigger closed the coms and looked back to Prez. "You alright?"
She quickly looked up at him. "Uh…yeah, I think so." She was breathing fast, deep breaths. "We did it? We did it! Right?"
Trigger nodded in response.
"Oh my god…how?"
He shrugged and chuckled. "Honestly, it was all you, you were the one who figured out their tactics so fast."
She scoffed. "That was only thanks to your crazy flying."
He chuckled. "I guess it was a team effort then."
"Spare Fifteen! Report!"
Trigger shook his head slightly, reopening calms. "Bandog?"
"Yes! Who the hell else?! Report!"
"IUN Peacekeepers threatened and engaged us."
"What the hell? Did they think you were Erusean? I contacted them on the radio with standard protocols, but the jamming kicked in as I was trying to contact them and identify ourselves."
"Not a chance." Count cut in. "They addressed us directly, they asked us to hand over Prez of all people."
Bandog sighed. "So…did you attack them?"
"Had to, in self defense of course, I'm sure you'll understand. The base commander did say he wanted us to bring our planes back. Can't really do that if we're shot down."
"Count…you do realize what this means? We're grounded, for a while. My radar was jammed to hell. I couldn't see or hear shit."
"I think we'll be fine." Tabloid chuckled.
"What's so funny Spare Eleven?"
"They attacked first." Trigger's voice was a low growl. "We've got the guncam footage to prove it."
There was a long pause.
"Well…that does make it a bit easier…Ah hell…I'm going to be stuck with paperwork. I don't even know where to start with this…"
"Form B dash two, three, three and its related forms. Should be listed in the top right what else you'll need." Trigger tilted his head. "You'll just need to attach the guncam footage and recorded radio chatter."
"How the hell? Trigger…you sure about that?"
"It's what I had to fill out. It's a hell hole of paperwork, but that is what they want."
Another moment of silence.
"And yes, I'm willing to sign off on everything needed."
Then Bandog chuckled. "I keep forgetting you were a peacekeeper yourself before all this. Right, I'll look into it, going to tell base we'll be a little late. You guys take it easy. You did good."
The coms closed again with a crackling of static.
It was silent for a while. Trigger didn't mind, the rest of Spare Squadron talked amongst themselves over the radio. Count bragging about his heroics. Tabloid throwing in corrections whenever Count started to embellish to much. Full Band was all ears and talked about a few details of how the Peacekeepers worked, along with some guesses as to what would happen now that two of their planes were shot down and Bandog would have all the evidence needed. He missed a few important points of IUN internal logistics. But Trigger was to focused on other things.
He took deep breaths for now, his determination almost got them killed. Crimson was a hell of a squadron. They could probably win the war all on their own.
All on their own…
Trigger frowned deeply, where was Crimson before? During the opening hours of the war. He didn't even know about Crimson, but now…the IUN's best peacekeepers? Led by a veteran of the continental war? Where were they when the IUN pushed forward? When they made the attack on the lighthouse? When the Arsenal Bird showed up Chopinburg? Off way past the IUN's borders hunting down mercenaries?
His knuckles popped as he tightly gripped the controls.
This wasn't right…Crimson wasn't even a part of the war so far. Hell he had to do all the hard work! Fort Grays was one of the first places that was attacked. IUN officers chose him to fly through the radar surrounding the Lighthouse. Why was he chosen? Why did he have to get stuck here? Why did Crimson hunt down Prez? What did she ever do?! She was ama-
"Trigger."
He froze, his grip relaxing. He turned a little, looking back at Prez.
"What you said back there…to stop me from ejecting. Did you mean it?" She had pushed up her visor, her eyes alight with worry.
"Of course. Why would I lie?"
She froze for a second, slowly releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Well…I mean, like…You know?" She shrugged slightly.
Trigger chuckled a bit. "Prez, you absolutely are my friend. You're a damn good friend too. It's a shame we're stuck in this hellhole." He points to the 444 base on the horizon. "Then we might actually be able to go and do something fun together. Rather than fight for our lives. Though, doing maintenance with you is pretty fun."
She giggled, her eyes brightening. "I mean I can get some bad puns if you like? Or if we get our hands on some cards, we could play a game of that? I heard a rumor someone has been making moonshine in their cell too."
He froze. "A card game?" His voice was quiet, he clenched his fist tightly again. After a moment he took a deep breath, Golem and Mage Squadrons were long gone to him. "Yeah…that, that would be nice actually." He let out a sigh.
"Wanna see if Tabloid and Avril are down to play too?" Prez smiled. "They've actually been pretty chill people."
Trigger chuckled. "Sure, that'd be nice. We can use the moonshine to pay Avril for her hard work." He looked over to his right at the damaged wing. "I think we're going to need it. We got our Strike Wyvern all scuffed up again."
"Ohhhhh…oh no…she's going to kill us." She giggled happily.
There was a long pause as they waited for orders to land.
"Hey Trigger."
"Hmm?"
"I…I just wanted t-"
The coms crackled into life. "This is Base Commander McKinsey."
"Ohhhhhh…." Prez sighed as she opened her coms. "Damn it."
Count sighed as well. "Tell me about it…alright let's see if Tabloid was right."
"It seems that you lost planes, but the Mission succeeded."
A few, non enthusiastic cheers were echoed over the coms.
"However…"
The cheers stopped.
"It seems that some of you crossed the return line for supplies and repairs. This will result in solitary. You will be taken upon arrival to the hangers. That is all." The coms cut out.
"Motherfucker…" Trigger sighed, and waited.
There was a dead silence.
Then, the coms exploded into noise.
Everyone was pissed, even Bandog was upset with the decision. Trying to get the base commander back on the coms to at most just get those who abandoned the mission halfway through into solitary. Not everyone.
Prez let out a deep sigh, closing her coms once more. "Well…it could be worse right?"
Trigger paused, then reached his right arm back behind the seat. His palm open.
Prez took his hand in hers and smiled, laughing slightly. "Yeah, it could be worse."
It was a hell of a day.
She squeezed his hand.
But, it was all worth it.