Latitude: 24° 14' 31.80" N

Longitude: 54° 32' 30.59" E

Al Dhafra Air Base, United Arab Emirates.

Time: 22:00 GST

Two F-16C Block 60 Fighting Falcon's with conformal fuel tanks, belonging to the United Arab Emirates Air Force, armed with two additional drop tanks, carrying two GBU-12 Paveway laser guided bombs on each TER-9/A (Triple Ejector Rack) along with AIM-120C AMRAAM active radar guided missiles on each wingtip, began to taxi towards the runway. For target acquisition and guidance for laser guided bombs, both single seat multirole fighters also carried Sniper targeting pod. Such system allowed them to see their targets even during the darkest night, thanks to either WHOT (white hot) or BHOT (black hot) infrared imagining it was capable off. Due to lack of presence of any significant air defenses, neither of them carried any electronic countermeasure pods. Navigation lights, one red, one green, flashed steadily on each wing through out the dark night. The entire runway had its lights turned on. With gentle rudder inputs, both F-16C's steered closer to the runway. The shrill sounds of their engines could be heard through out the entire airbase. They were the only ones called for the mission

After closely following the yellow line on the airfield, both F-16C's reached the end of the runway. They aligned themselves on the runway, prepared to receive clearance for take off from ATC. The waiting time for it was short.

"Sultan 1-1, you're cleared for take off.".

As both pilots increased their throttles, the nozzles of both aircraft expanded, unleashing the roaring flame out of it. Simultaneously, both Falcons began rolling down the runway. The numbers on airspeed indicator, displayed right on HUD, began rapidly rising up. Within few seconds, both Falcons reached speeds above 170 knots as they began climbing towards the dark sky. Amid the darkness, their afterburners cut through it. Just after climbing enough, both pilots placed their throttle back to military power, causing their afterburners to disappear. Fighting Falcons blended in darkness of the night as they began their mission, following the first steerpoint on the HSD, which was located near the city of Dubai. Due to the fact Oman did not allow any flights over its territory, they had to settle for flying around the coast. Such was the way their mission began.

Meanwhile on Royal Auxiliary Isle, the reconstruction of the island was still taking place. Those who worked through out the day, be it skeletons or Bowser's minions, took a rest in the already upgraded inn. Those buildings were among the first to not only be upgraded, but also more of them were built. They saw in advance that resting places would be the biggest priority. Rest of the buildings, there were mixed results. Not to say that the job done was of low quality, but rather different priorities were had. Right after inns, the bar was the second to follow to be reconstructed in Bowser's image. Contrary to inns, which remained about the same visage as they did in the past, the bar was starting to have some of turtle king's touches, such as small statues of his head, placed like gargoyles. None than less, buildings were constructed and rebuilt at fast pace, thanks to the ever marching work force. The whole process was monitored by the higher ups of Skeleton Mafia.

"Gwahaha, excellent work, troops! Once we're done with this, we will have glorious times ahead!" boasted Bowser as he proudly chuckled, observing their work like a falcon looks for prey. He noticed that under his supervision, his own troops were exceeding expectations, possibly because not only of their ears being under threat of being under great noise barrage, but also because appearance of their skeletal colleagues proved to be enough of a deterrent from disobedience.

"Just imagine, Bows! Imagine how much money we'll roll with this! Not only from Kornjača alone, but from other business as well! Exports, imports, so many things!" Brane proposed an idea for Bowser to expand business on Royal Auxiliary Isle as much as possible.

"Of course! I already know on what I'll spend that money!" Bowser raised his index finger, hinting at the future of their plans.

"Make sure it ain't gonna go to waste, Bows man." cautioned George, reminding him that any lost money could end up detrimental to the organization as a whole.

"Bah! Do you think I'm that guy, who paints his own ships gold? I know how to properly spend money!" retaliated Bowser before he realized that he does have that golden yacht under his possession, even though it was taken. However, since it wasn't technically under his ownership, he could get away with his statement without sounding like a hypocrite.

"Just sayin'." George concluded his statement, crossing his arms.

"...Right. Anyway, once we're done with this, I think our best option is to arm ourselves! I've got some good stuff with me, alright!" Bowser announced next phase of his plan, with him flexing with his arm the moment the word "arm" was uttered.

"Gyehehe, giant and slow bullets with eyes and arms, right?" chuckled Mosseau, not even wasting a second to roast any technology that his turtle boss wielded back at home. Immediately, it warranted him a squint from the very turtle man himself.

"Mosseau...don't even start, because I already know." grumbled Bowser, ever grumpy over the fact that his technology, no matter when and in what emotional state was he, was always dunked upon. Worst thing was, at least for him, that he couldn't even deny it.

"Ye act like that's an only option, laddeh." hinted Mosseau at what possible things he could do when it came to weapons. Just like he got an immediate squint, he received a raised eyebrow immediately.

"What do you mean by that? Are you onto something?" asked Bowser, genuinely curious on what exactly was on Mosseau's bloodshed demanding mind.

"So, ye said yer gonna bring yer own weapons here, right?" Mosseau began to prove his point, gaining attention of those surrounding him.

"Yeah, what about it?" further asked Bowser as he heeded his words.

"That is, indeed, one of the possibilities, but Aye feel like yer missing out two possibilities. One is that yer send one of these boys back to yer own world and reverse engineer it. Then ye start crapping them out and there ye have it! A new weapon AND a supply line! Before Aye go to the next one, Aye wanna hear yer thoughts on it." Mosseau gave out his first suggestion, taking a similar approach as certain greater powers of that world often did, historically and currently. Bowser began scratching his chin, thinking about the sheer concept of taking weapons from the current world to his. Already, he first began imagining his own troops wielding such weapons, like a Thompson submachine gun. Although Koopa's were easy to imagine wielding guns, troopers without arms were rather peculiar to imagine. If somehow found a way for Goombas, Bob-Ombs and similar to wield such weapons, he would do it. However, he had another reservation regarding Mosseau's first suggestion.

"Hmmmm…..so what you're saying is we should just copy their weapons? Wouldn't they get mad about it or something?" questioned Bowser regarding the response of countries if they were found out reverse engineering their technology.

"Eh, don't worry about it. All we have is old stuff, they won't bat an eye." reassured Mad John, knowing from experience that decades old technology is not of concern. However, there was a point in need to be addressed. "Had we actually have their latest technology, we would already have our asses hunted down.".

"Good things is that we don't! But if they don't care, so be it! More for me!" declared Bowser before he took a look at his workers, intending to call some of them for a small, simple task. Of course, he did it in a way that was everything, but quiet. "Hey, I need some of you, not all, to come over here!".

However, it were the skeletons that responded first and foremost, only a few of Bowser's army joined in.

"What is it, boss?" asked the random skeleton about the incoming task. He was joined mostly by skeletons, but he was also joined by Bob-Ombs, who seemed to accept the skeletons not only the quickest, but were least cautious when it came interacting to them.

"You see, this task will be very simple. All you have to do is to take...uhh…" Bowser gave out the task, but he hesitated, not because he didn't know the name of the weapon, but because the gun he had in his mind seemed to be absent at that moment.

"There ya go." Mosseau pulled out a Thompson submachine gun out of his trash can right away as he gave them to the skeleton accompanying the walking cartoony bomb. Upon receiving, the skeleton handled the gun with care.

"Ah! This gun, take it to my kingdom and then I'll let my troops inspect it and copy it! This should be easy, right? Not the "taking it to my kingdom part", but rather copying it, right?" Bowser fully gave out an order, pointing with his index finger at it.

"No worries, my Lord. We deal with weapons all the time, we shall reverse engineer it very easily." nodded the Bob-Omb, confident enough that even weapons that their world has never seen before could easily be reconstructed back at home.

"That is oddly wordy from a talking bomb, ya know." pointed out the skeleton that accompanied what essentially was a sentient weapon.

"Expertise helps." casually replied Bob-Omb, still sporting the same confidence, although his sense of self awareness was unclear to those who were not familiar with him.

"That's the spirit! Now take it to my kingdom!" Bowser motivated them to make haste, so that he could start producing desired weapons for his further operations. Any ranged weapon, no matter of quality, gave inherent benefit to them.

"Sir, yes sir!" Bob-Omb performed a "salute", although he looked like he perked up. It was compromise for lacking limbs other than feet. Then, both the skeleton and the Bob-Omb started walking, although more like marching in Bob-Omb's case, going to the tunnel at the other end of the island. At that point, Bowser turned towards his higher ranking colleagues again, continuing the discussion in the process.

"So, this is covered now. What was the other suggestion, Mosseau?" asked Bowser, expecting a rather sound suggestion of him, despite his infamy regarding certain aspects.

"Gyehehe, join in the global weapons market, Bows!" Mosseau immediately revealed the second option regarding arming the whole Skeleton Mafia.

"Hmmm….hmhmhmhm….." Bowser scratched his chin as he started thinking about the suggestion. On a first glance, it already seemed like an optimal solution. Countries giving out their weapons to them, a nearly dream-like situation. However, it felt too good for him to blindly say yes. Considering how many variables that world seemed to have even on simplest things, he felt that there has to be some string pulling behind the curtain, if one is able to say about the military industry. "Not gonna lie, it sounds very alluring, but I must know….is there a caveat to this?".

"It depends." Mad John fired an omnipresent answer on any issue deemed complicated. From the get-go, Bowser already rolled with his eyes. Such answer can mean nothing too beneficial.

"Oh, the classic "It depends", oh boy! Can't wait to hear it…" grumbled Bowser as he crossed with his arms.

"At least you were prepared for that one." noted George in a jabbing manner.

"You see, it depends on what kind of weapon we yield and how much do our providers trust. When it comes to firearms, we are relatively lenient, but when it comes to more sensitive subjects, such as aviation, that is where our situation would be much trickier. Countries would monitor what would we do, we might even have to ask for permission. However, that only applies when you obtain actual military aircraft. Rules are a bit different if you improvise." Mad John began dropping out his usual routine of having to explain Bowser how does their world operate. Not all was critique, as he gave out another alternative regarding weapons acquisition. Immediately, he gained attention of others.

"So if Aye understand yer right, ye want us to militarize Cessnas?" Mosseau, knowing his own experience with improvised weaponry, chimed in right away. The way he imagined it was that they should put rocket pods, possibly gained from black market, onto Cessna 172 Skyhawks, the most produced aircraft of all time. They would be far from first one to militarize general aviation aircraft, such as Iraq, for example.

"Actually, that is a sensible option. I don't think we'll have to deal with aerial threats if we are fortunate, so we should just focus on close air support. Maybe air interdiction if necessary." agreed Mad John with the subject of improvised weaponry, already imagining that most of their campaign, had they encounter a peer-to-peer or lesser threat, would be "minuscule scale" compared to a lot of conflicts raging around the globe.

"Hmmm….I'm going for the improvised. I vastly prefer being independent, after all. Still...hohoho! Certainly interesting! Perhaps once we are done with it, I could test out some of them." chuckled Bowser, already approving the freedom that improvised weaponry would provide him. As the days passed by, his interest in that world's weaponry grew as well. That night was finally the time when he confessed it. Instead of ridicule, he was met with intrigue of others. Perhaps he was finally caving in, after years of wielding rather peculiar weapons by the standards.

"Will yer finger even fit?" Mosseau, the ever present menace of Bowser's ideas of weaponry, verbally fired away the second his boss finished his statement.

"Gwahaha, of course it will! Just watch!" boasted Bowser before he made a gesture with his hand, demanding that someone should lend him a weapon, so that he could prove Mosseau that he is, for once in his life, wrong. At least, when it came to their bantering. It was the buff sniper that opted for giving him a weapon, his classic Mosin-Nagant sniper rifle.

"Don't worry, it's empty." noted Mad John, allowing Bowser to press the trigger. Somewhere around their days on Royal Auxiliary Isle, he removed bullets from, due to lack of any threats that would need to be cleared out with some sniper action. Right then, Bowser cautiously grabbed the rustic gun, so that he wouldn't snap it like a toothpick. His initial attempts of placing his large finger on the trigger were rather devoid of success.

"Well…." Bowser thought about how exactly would he pull the trigger, but after figuring out that his finger is just too fat to squeeze through the hole, he found out that he could do a "cheat", so to say. "...Aha!"

Instead of his finger, he placed the tip of his claw on it. Even though John's gun was lacking ammo, he still didn't press the trigger, since that was not his intent. After finishing it, he returned the rifle back to John, immediately grinning afterwards.

"Guess what? I can! Gwahahahaha!" taunted Bowser as he laughed at the Scottish colleague. However, Mosseau didn't take it personally at all, just that he was more impressed by the fact that Bowser managed to use his wits.

"Ye win this one, Bows." admitted Mosseau before he pulled out a bottle of Rakija, drinking it all in one simple quench. At the very least, Bowser's changing, for their benefit.

Yet they all thought it was just going to be another uneventful night.

Steerpoint 3

Latitude: 24° 29' 08.00" N

Longitude: 57° 25' 39.00" E

Time: 22:27 GST

26 000 feet above the sea, two Fighting Falcons cruised in the middle of darkness. Both Sultans were equipped with night vision goggles, although they still heavily relied upon their instruments for navigation. The green light inside their cockpit made sure that they could find any switch or button with ease. Their throttles were placed somewhere around military power, so that they could consume as little fuel as possible without losing too much of their speed. However, that was least of their concerns.

Even though they were still away from Iranian border, any mistake on their behalf would potentially cause the response of the opposing nation. Within few minutes, they could reach it, earning a response from their Mig's or Tomcat's. Thankfully for them, Falcons of Emirates relied upon a certain ally for further situational awareness.

"Darkstar, Sultan 1-1, request PICTURE." Sultan 1 called the nearby E-2D Hawkeye airborne early warning and control aircraft of the United States Navy. Stationed somewhere in Persian Gulf, accompanying the carrier strike group beneath it, Hawkeye with the callsign Darkstar monitored the skies, looking for any possible bandits or hostiles. They had to be ready for any worst case scenarios, such as potential aerial clash above such contested area. Any further escalations would led to a potential conflict on a massive regional scale, yet their consequences would be felt all over the world.

The radar operator observed the monitor, checking for any possible contacts as far away as 345 nautical miles. The radar, shaped like a disc, constantly rotated, allowing 360 degree coverage of the whole air space. As he kept checking, he found contacts, quite a lot of them being civilian aircraft near the coast of United Arab Emirates, yet no one seemed like a threat to Sultans.

"Darkstar, Sultan 1-1, clean." Darkstar responded back, allowing both Fighting Falcons to ingress towards their destination in peace.

As two military aircraft of United Arab Emirates were on their way, the situation did not change back at Royal Auxiliary Isle. Bowser and his other higher ranking elites still observed the work of their troops. In fact, it was starting to get monotonous for them. They needed to make their time more lively.

"Hmmm….I'm sure these guys will handle on their own if I take my eyes away from them. My tongue is getting dry!" Bowser thought to himself, craving a drink. Due to how decently well everything seemed to go, he could trust them on not royally screwing up the entire process, like they did in the past more frequently than they should.

"Say, gentlemen, shall we go for a drink?" asked Bowser for their colleagues to go to a bar.

"Oh, hell yeah, Bows!" approved Mosseau, not even a second passing when Bowser finished his question. By that time, he also quenched down an entire Rakija bottle, yet it wasn't enough for him.

"….Of course you would be the first one to approve it." Bowser squinted at him, at that point his obsession with alcohol becoming a norm.

"Sure, why not?" shrugged Mad John, cementing the approval for elites to take some time off to have a drink. Thus, they went to a bar, already marching towards the bartender, who was cleaning the glasses. The bar was already full of people, or rather a combination of skeletons, turtles, mushroom like creatures and more. They were all having a drink and soon shall be joined by the elites.

"What would you like, boss?" asked bartender skeleton. Bowser and his colleagues took a gander at the decently sized collection of alcohol, from as accessible as beer is to refined as various exquisite wines were there, some taken from their previous adventures. Bowser's eyes laid down upon a particular drink, something relatively lightweight compared to other stuff.

"Hmmm...I'd like champagne!" ordered Bowser, much to surprise of everyone around him, including his own troops.

"What?" blurted out George.

"What do you mean "what"? What's wrong with me drinking it?" perplexed Bowser, not particularly aware why everyone was so baffled by his choice of a drink. They all anticipated that he would pick coffee, or at least something less intoxicating.

"Uh, we never expected you to indulge yourself in alcohol, mate." Mad John was the first one to point out the sheer absurdity of Bowser, a rather reserved man when it came to such aspects, to enjoy such pleasures.

"Bah! You all act like its first time I drank stuff like that! Never got drunk, though! I take a lot of caution when it comes to drinking." scoffed Bowser, reminiscing mostly of times when he won go-kart races. Every time he did win, which was more frequently than one would expect, he would chug an entire bottle of champagne. It was, however, not common that he would consume alcohol.

"Aye only got drunk once in me life, so Aye get'cha, Bows." casually added Mosseau. His statement immediately gained raised eyebrows and even spit takes of everyone around him. What followed next was a rather long enduring silence.

"What? It's true! Aye even remember it like it was yesterday!" Mosseau defended himself, claiming that it is indeed true that he, the most notorious consumer of alcohol, only got drunk ONCE in his one thousand year old life, that's counting his time as the undead.

"Are you saying that you drank so much you gained an immunity to being intoxicated?" questioned Brane as he noted that his implications sounded remarkably similar to the backstory of a janitor who fell into a wine container and absorbed so much alcohol, that his own blood was replaced with pure alcohol. Some rumors say that the same gentleman is now stealing from poor and helping the rich.

"It all relates to the day when Aye got drunk. Let me tell ya a story about how wee Mosseau got-" the Scottish skeleton began to tell a story, but right away was interrupted.

"Hold on for a minute. What exactly do you mean by "wee" in this story?" George raised his finger, wanting to know how exactly old was Mosseau when he got drunk.

The answer was a surprise, to say at least.

"When Aye was a wee baby, of course!" proudly revealed Mosseau when exactly did he get intoxicated by alcohol so much he lost control of his senses. Once again, spit takes were heard all over the bar. Questions were starting to pop up in seconds.

"Woah woah woah woah, what were your parents feeding you?!" asked Brane out of sheer shock from hearing that Mosseau already drank since he was a baby.

"It wasn't me parents. Aye fell into a barrel of wine." further elaborated Mosseau as he was getting visibly annoyed by his colleagues not allowing him to tell his story.

"….How did you get into a barrel as a baby? How?!" Bowser fired away a question as he made a "mind blown" gesture with his hands.

"Aye was a kid full of life, Bows, ya kno-" grumbled Mosseau as his annoyance was reaching new heights. Yet, his colleagues still haven't gotten the message.

"You still are even when you're-" George tried to throw a jab at him, but at that point, the Scotsman had it.

"Aye haven't even started it and ye fuckers keep interrupting me. Shut the fuck up already and let me finish it in peace, for fuck's sake!" Mosseau snapped at them all, although verbally only, surprising for him. At that point, they finally got it and let him narrate the story of his past time.

"Fair enough, go on about it." Mad John allowed him to proceed.

"Aight, so we've established that Aye fell into a barrel of wine. When the wine keeper found out, he thought Aye was dead, so he called up the entire castle. But the truth was, Aye drank all of it! It was a big ass barrel, so it was quite a feat! Then Aye felt slightly drunk afterwards, but ever since that day, Aye could drink any alcohol as much as Aye wanted! They even called me "The Quencher" because Aye emptied entire cellars! Didn't even get drunk afterwards!" Mosseau fully told them the story, without any sort of interruption. Once again, silence remained. No one really knew how to comment on the full story.

"I wanna ask how "big ass" the barrel wa-" Mad John was the one to break silence, but even before he fully finished his question, he already received the answer.

"250 Liters." Mosseau spat out the response like a sparrow's spit. The day when everyone around him would be prepared for details of his stories seemed very far away.

"How did you remember the exact amount?!" perplexed Brane in shock once again.

"Got good memory, laddeh! That is one of the blessings that Haggisbourgh of Skrumpskin's have!" boasted Mosseau, but after such question, no one knew how to continue the discussion. It felt like everything was answered, but no one had closure on it.

"….So….is there more to it?" Bowser asked for the last time regarding that topic, just to be sure if there was anything needed to be said.

"Nah, for now. Let's get to drinking, lads!" declined Mosseau as he focused everyone to just order a drink after stalling out over a rather one-of-a-kind discussion.

"Alright then….order your drinks, gentlemen! We will consume like kings!" commanded Bowser as his colleagues followed with their own requested drinks. Payment wasn't necessary, since that was theirs after all. After everyone got their beverage, they began chugging it. Yet, as they all drank and discussed, the time kept running. Faster than they would like.

Steerpoint 4:

Latitude: 22° 47' 42.00" N

Longitude: 60° 23' 20.00" E

Time: 22:51 GST

F-16's were getting closer and closer towards the Royal Auxiliary Isle, faster than anyone on it would even anticipate. Despite that, they were still far away from their destination, just cruising through the darkness. With the selected steerpoint, F-16's followed the path on autopilot. The altitude remained the same, that being of 26 000 feet above the sea.

As those two aircraft were coming in closely, Bowser and his colleague finished wasting time in the bar. It was supposed to be a brief break, but thanks to many discussions there, some a bit heated than others, it dragged on. Yet, they all seemed to be in a good mood.

"Gwahaha, I have to say, our drinks do hit quite different!" complimented Bowser, still feeling sober despite downing down an entire champagne. He was pretty used to it, after all.

"Yeah, it ain't bad. Gives you energy for a good amount of time." said George, sober as well. To be fair, everyone was sober, since they knew they still have a job to do. Mosseau was sober for a reason already revealed before though.

"Just like we gonna copy weapons, we should copy drinks too!" Bowser randomly suggested an idea that he should take the world's drinks and make his own versions of it. An intriguing idea, was the immediate thought of his colleagues.

"So, are ye sayin' yer gonna make alcohol?" Mosseau wanted the confirmation that his boss legitimately contemplated producing beverages back in his home.

"Why not! It's extra profit, exactly what we need!" Bowser rationalized the decision to be one of monetary gain, not indulgence.

"Pfft, Bowser sponsored alcohol." Mad John couldn't help but to chuckle at the prospect of such suggestion. As expected, a squint from his boss he received.

"...What? Is there something funny I've said?" asked Bowser in an ever annoyed tone. He did not see any faults or caveats with his idea, so it didn't make sense why would he be laughed at.

"It's just funny to imagine, that's all." reassured Mad John that his idea wasn't ridiculous, but rather the mental image was.

"Seriously though, that's a money maker! It would give us even more cash!" Brane pumped his fist, already seeing money rolling right in front of his eyes. So did Bowser.

"Exactly!" Bowser pumped his fist as well, already anticipating the great amount of sales regarding beverages. It was a heavily sought item, after all.

However, an immediate setback was noticed.

"One problem, though." Mosseau raised his finger to gain attention of everyone.

"What is it, Mosseau? I thought you would like the idea, knowing how are you." asked Bowser, surprised that he out of all people would find an issue in his idea, considering that he was the biggest fan of intoxicating drinks.

"Ye possibly picked the worst place to sell alcohol." answered Mosseau, revealing that their geographical location did not exactly bode them well when it came to alcohol sales.

"Wait, really? Is it like, illegal or something?" questioned Bowser, wondering what exactly would prevent them from profiting off of alcohol. He wasn't entirely wrong about it, but he didn't know specifics.

"Eh, they tried that at home. Didn't work, it just became more desirable." added George, reminiscing of times when his country attempted to ban alcohol, only for it to become even more desirable during the period. It was a temporary ban, since the ban on alcohol not only deprived population of an option, but it was economically damaging too.

"Aye, Arabs are not allowed to drink alcohol. It's forbidden by their religion." answered Mosseau, clearing up what exactly was the setback they were dealing it. Bowser frowned upon hearing the answer, millions of people as customers not available.

"Crud! Just when I thought I could get customers…." Bowser shook his fist upon realization.

"Aye mean, ye can sell it to others. They can drink it." Mosseau added another option, focusing more on foreigners, such as themselves, than locals.

"That's a bit less of a crud, but still. Now, lets take a look how its going for them." said Bowser before they decided they should return to monitoring the situation. Surprisingly, everything, bar the made progress, was about the same. No accidents, no incidents, nothing went wrong.

"Hmm….oddly well here. Nothing's gone haywire so far. Usually, that's not the case when I'm not around." commented Bowser while concisely summarizing their performance back at his home.

"Our boys are taking good care of it, it seems." noted George as he crossed his arms, observing them all like a hawk. Buildings were quickly getting reconstructed as the new ones were getting build. All good for them, so far.

"Well then….let us continue like that. Sooner we will finish, sooner we will reach glory! Gwahahahaha!" boasted Bowser, maintaining his position as all the work went along. Everything seemed to go just like Bowser planned to. Possibly one of his greatest moments on that world.

That illusion was sure to be shattered within few minutes.

Steerpoint 5:

Latitude: 19° 45' 58.00" N

Longitude: 62° 03' 34.00" E

Time: 23:17 GST

The steerpoint was placed directly on the island. Both Sniper targeting pods were looking right at it, seeing it through black and white contrast. From far away, at least 30 nautical miles or so, they could get gist of what was placed there. A rebuilding town and some ships, easy targets for the aerial beasts. Only few minutes remained until they would directly fly over it. With that, Sheikh's plan was about to be realized.

"Sultan 2, let's give them a show, shall we?" asked Sultan 1 for compliance regarding their mission, wanting to know if his wingman is prepared to execute the mission.

"2, roger." confirmed Sultan 2 as both of them pushed their flight sticks, placed on the right side of the cockpit, forward. Both Falcons began descending towards the island. Numbers on HUD, indicating speed, began to rise rapidly, where as those that indicated altitude began do fall just as quickly. Then, both of them pushed their throttles forward, unleashing the roaring flame of an afterburner. Both aircraft accelerated so fast that they could no longer be heard if observed from front. Estimated time of their arrival was getting minuscule.

Only few minutes, barely if one could say, until their arrival, the progress on Royal Auxiliary Isle was going as before: steady and ready. Bowser and his colleagues were taking a stroll down the down, checking every nook and cranny of their work. Even at that point, things seemed generally fine.

For that moment.

"Hahaha, marvelous! This is one of the best performances my troops have given!" complimented Bowser. His words were heard by the passerby skeleton, accompanied by a Goomba.

"We're just doing it like you've said, Bows." humbly said random skeleton, who cared more about getting the job done rather than glamour. His mushroom like friend agreed with his sentiment.

"Keep up the good work!" advised Bowser before they departed paths. Skeleton and Goomba both returned to their place of work, building a new house near the market. They were tasked with carrying resources. Before they arrived, they had a little talk.

"Man, that's rare. The Lord is never as pleased as he is now." commented Goomba, who has seldom seen Bowser to be in such high spirits when it came to their work. Usually, they were bombarded with critiques, yelling and a combination of both. At the very least, the work was done, even back there.

"Do you fellas goof up a lot?" asked the skeleton in a rather skeptical manner, since he assumed they were doing something out of order. There had to be a reason why Bowser was not satisfied with their work, after all.

"Sometimes setbacks happen." elaborated Goomba in such a way that would hide any responsibility on their behalf.

"So you do goof up?" the skeleton immediately noticed that his mushroomy friend did not hide it well that their mistakes are rather often, hence complaints from their boss.

"Setbacks, not goof ups!" insisted Goomba, but nothing he could do convinced the skeleton. But before they could continue their discussion, they had work to do. As they continued constructing a house, Bowser and his colleagues continued their stroll, observing the progress. Even on the other end of the town, it all seemed to go well.

"Say mate, with progress like this, we could have entire island reconstructed within a week! Quite a fit on our behalf." commented Mad John, impressed by the fact that such a relatively small group could give an abandoned town an entirely new face. In a way, despite their conquering ambitions, they could legitimately provide some good to the world, even if only from a pragmatic standpoint.

"We can go even faster! Less than a week!" boasted Bowser as his expectations rose thanks to how the progress was done. After searching for a proper island and fighting many things, such as minotaur or an ancient Persian King, it all seemed like they would have a prosperous future ahead.

"That's a bit ambitious, ain't it?" questioned George as he tried to ground them before they got any unlikely ideas about their conquest. Even with the current progress, they were still far behind even the most basic of countries.

"Sure, it might be, but considering everything went well so far, I see it as possible! Man, we haven't had such luck since-" smiled Bowser as he couldn't help but think that nothing but goodness awaited them. Everything was going just like he wanted.

However, their illusion of safety came to an end when the skies broke with the crack of thunder. Everyone on the island immediately felt the resonance of a broken sound barrier. Entire process of the reconstruction came to an abrupt halt. The shock caused nothing short of chaotic panic across the island, as Bowser's troops began to ran for their lives. Bob-Ombs were first ones to separate themselves from the group, so that there wouldn't be any casualties by any accidental detonations. Skeletons remained calmer, but the shock was still felt. They tried to look everywhere for the source of such sound, suspecting it of being an explosion. Despite that, they were trapped within the panic.

Not even the boss and his colleagues remained untouched by the shock.

"….W-WHAT WAS THAT?!"sputtered Bowser out of sheer surprise, trembling while also looking for the source of it. Just like many of his troops, he assumed there was an explosion. Yet, there was no sight of it at all. The panic, caused by troops who were desperately trying to hide, some of them even throwing themselves into water, blurred any sort of situational awareness they had.

"Stay calm, boys! Stay calm!"one of the skeletons yelled in order to stop the chaos, yet his words fell on deaf ears.

"What the hell, was there an explosion or somethin'?" fretted George as he tried to remain calm as much as possible, but the sheer suddenness of such roaring noise couldn't hindered his facade. He was just as lost in panic as everyone ones.

"No, that ain't it! That ain't an explosion, mate! That's a-" yelled Mad John, although as taken as surprise, he was used to such noise, especially during his KFOR days. As they all looked what caused it, Mosseau was the one to spot the source: two pairs of lights, green and red, soaring through the skies, just above the ground. He realized the sheer gravity of the whole situation.

"Aircraft! Two aircraft!" shouted Mosseau, alerting everyone that their skies were by far the biggest danger to them all. As soon as everyone was aware of

"Oh jebem ti majko! It's just like those days again!" shuddered Brane, remembering what was it like in his country, attacked by such aircraft. Little did they know at the time that was the same one that participated in both Operation Deliberate Force and Allied Force.

"….THAT IS AN AIRCRAFT?!" shrieked Bowser, finding it nearly impossible to imagine that an aircraft, from what he knew were just docile, if loud contraptions, would make a sound comparable to skies shattering. Yet there was no time to question, as Mosseau noticed that those two pairs of lights were turning towards them.

"Look over there! They're coming back!" Mosseau alerted everyone as those two aircraft were getting ever closer to them. Amid their turn, breathing of both pilots became heavier, thanks to gravitational forces weighing down on their entire bodies. They could feel their vision blacken out as they kept turning towards the steerpoint. Had it not been for darkness, they could see vapor trails being created on Falcon's wings and fuselage. Yet, the time they had for everything was measured in second. No longer flying at the speed above the sound, they positioned their aircraft for another pass. Everyone on the island could at that moment hear two incoming fighters.

"Hold fire and stay calm, everyone! We have an unidentified aircraft above us!" shouted Mad John as loudly as he could. Unlike the words of the skeleton, everyone could hear his warning. The troops, both of Bowser's and skeletal, hid themselves in the buildings, but the brave ones remained outside, ensuring that they could be protected. Sniper Mad John and Mosseau made sure that everyone's eyes were pinned on two pairs of lights, which were getting ever close.

Little did anyone on the ground expect what two fighters had in store for them.

"Chaff, Flare!".

Suddenly, what it seemed like fireballs falling out of the aircraft, further terrified everyone one the ground. Even those who were vigilant before ran indoors. Only ones who were still outside where Bowser and his higher ranking colleagues, forced to observe what were those aircraft planning to do. When Bowser saw that, he couldn't believe. That world's aircraft also seemed to master the dangerous art of fire. From the sight alone, Bowser realized that there was no more going back. No more could he conquer at peace, where such flying beasts existed.

"THEY'RE FIRING AT US!" shouted Bowser as he pointed at two aircraft, who already made a pass above their heads. Yet, it was the moment that shall forever be ingrained in his mind. He didn't know what to do, either respond back with his own flame or do nothing.

"Flares, Bowser! Those are harmless! Hold your fire!" yelled Mad John at his boss, quickly alerting that it wasn't even its weapon, just a countermeasure. However, not only was the message already send across, he couldn't imagine the true firepower of such things.

For a brief moment those two aircraft were illuminated by flares, Mosseau managed to recognize them from a single glance. A single intake, almost shaped like a smile, placed beneath the canopy, was enough to tell what exact aircraft was flying above them.

"F-16'S! IT'S THE FUCKING F-16'S!" roared Mosseau so loud that even those who were indoors could hear it. John and Brane felt cold sweat the moment they heard what was dominating the skies of Royal Auxiliary Isle. Bowser and George were unfamiliar with it, yet just from the way Mosseau yelled, without any trace of his usual traits, they could recognize what they were dealing with was essentially an existential threat to them.

"What?! You gotta be shitting me! There's no way that-" shuddered Mad John with his calm facade completely cracking down. Even though they didn't exactly knew the true operator of those specific Fighting Falcons, a possibility appeared that everyone feared.

"A-are they American F-16's?" stuttered Brane, at the very least revealing who made such an aircraft. Bowser couldn't say anything upon hearing that it was entirely possible that it was United States of America, at the time the only superpower, capable of destroying a country within a month, which sent those two aircraft. The fear he felt was kind of one which he never felt before: existential. Any move that could further provoke the superpower could end up with not only him and his organization perishing, but also the end of his own kingdom back there. Unlike with Burke, which responded with the promise of protection, these Fighting Falcons could only respond with the promise of a complete and utter annihilation, unlike of which has Bowser ever seen before.

But the Fighting Falcons were not done just yet, as they were preparing for another flyby.

"Not sure! Can't tell in this damned darkness, mate!" answered Mad John in a completely distressed tone, while also keeping his eyes on two pairs of lights, which were making another turn.

"Hey, what the hell did we do to get their attention?! I thought we steered clear of them!" asked George out loud, confused as for why would America go after them. Truthfully no one knew the answer. No one even truly knew who operated these fighters at that moment.

"We did! We've made it very clear that we steered from-" Mad John tried to respond, but his words were engulfed by roars of engines made by those beasts. However, it seemed like it was the last pass, as those lights began ascending towards the pitch black sky. Their sound became quieter as they distanced themselves, but they were still heard from dozens of miles away.

Shock. Complete and utter shock reigned on Royal Auxiliary Isle. What once seemed like a prosperous future ahead became one of dread and endless caution. They all stood, all silent from the shock, as they all contemplated what to do next. What even was there to do next after that?

"Say...what to do now?" asked Mad John, trying to regain composure, yet fear could still be felt in his voice. Bowser did not have an answer to that. No one did. All he could do was to stare at the sea, fearing what could it mean if they make a mistake.

"...What did we do to warrant their attention?" Bowser thought to himself, genuinely wondering what sort of thing could have done to get a response from a nation. Whatever their future was, it was all reliant on steps they would take. Any wrong step would end in nothing short of shock and awe.

Much of the time have passed after they conducted their mission over Royal Auxiliary Isle. Enough so that they would have to take in one activity that every pilot feared, be it in peace time or in combat. It was the true dread of anything flying.

They had to conduct aerial refuelling in the middle of the night. Didn't help that even with CFT's, F-16 Fighting Falcon was not particularly famous for fuel capacity. Luckily, one venerable KC-135 Stratotanker of the United States Air Force, a plane which its role is already revealed in its name, was already flying near the coast of Oman. They were just few miles away from each other.

"Texaco 1-1, request intent to refuel." announced Sultan 1 once he could see the navigation lights of the Stratotanker as he slowly approached it. The tanker lowered down the boom as both of them navigated through such vital procedure. Sultan 1 opened the refuelling hole, which was placed behind the canopy. Thanks to guiding lights on the bottom of Stratotanker's fuselage, he could position his aircraft without going through a significant emotional event of crashing right into the tanker. The boom operator had similar worries of not damaging the aircraft with the boom. By far, that was Sultan 1's most stressful event through out the entire night, but with gentle and careful inputs on the stick and pedals, he positioned himself right in such way that the boom operator could successfully connect the boom right into the hole. Thus, the fuel started to pour down, right into the aircraft. Sultan 1 could see numbers on fuel quantity rise. A satisfying sight indeed.

"Say, fellas. What are you up to at such hours?" the boom operator began the conversation because she was kind of bored through out the night. She has been there for hours and up until arrival of Sultans, nothing interesting happened.

"Answer I can provide officially is that Sheikh wanted to scare some bandits in the middle of the night. It's gonna be one hell of a reason to tell my wife why I was absent tonight." spoke Sultan 1 with a rather heavily accented Arabic voice, although his English was not far off. Unofficially, he felt like Sheikh lost his mind, but saying that out loud would cause trouble.

"So, did ya scare them good?" asked Boom Operator, curious if their "show of force" worked as the leader of United Arab Emirates intended. Through out the entire time, Sultan 1 had to make sure that the boom remained connected.

"Well, we'll see about that. Lucky them, they got themselves a free air show. Don't tell anyone this, but both these bandits and Sheikh owe me some sleep. I'm tired as shit." jokingly grumbled Sultan 1 to lighten up the mood, but the truth was that his desire for some shut-eye was indeed big.

"Hahaha, should have drank more coffee before flight. But yeah, that's understandable. We tanker guys spend hours in the air. A Red Bull or three certainly helps you awake." the boom operator chuckled as she told him some of her own perspective. At the very least, fighter pilots have the privilege to do that "pilot shit", as a certain movie quote went. Tanker guys, as immensely important as they were, were not shining with glamour most of the time.

"Don't worry, I got myself energized pretty good before briefing. A good amount of coffee certainly helped. Though, I'm wondering if I can just snooze a bit here." reassured Sultan 1 that he received a good dose of caffeine before taking on such mission. Had it not been the night, he'd just leave the Falcon on autopilot and take a snooze in it.

"Definitely not right now, heh. Don't wanna get the boom elsewhere but in the hole." jested the boom operator, with her wording being rather intentional. Sultan 1 couldn't help but chuckle the way she said it.

"You know, after I land in Al Dhafra and go through debriefing, I'm gonna take one huge ass nap afterwards." announced Sultan 1 that the moment he will be at home, he will enter the land of dreams with his wife. Deep down, he wanted a day off, but he felt it would cause problems.

"You have every right to, make sure you take a good snooze." reassured the boom operator that his choice was right. At the very least, Sultan 1 will have some rest before her.

"Oh, I definitely will." boasted Sultan 1 before he noticed that the procedure was complete. No longer will have to worry about hearing or seeing "BINGO FUEL" on his HUD. "Ah, the girl's full. Disconnecting now.".

"Roger. Fly safe, Sultan 1." the boom operator concluded the whole discussion and procedure by carefully removing the boom from the hole. Sultan 1 closed the hole and broke away from the formation, allowing his wingman to refuel as well.

"Texaco 1-1, ready pre-contact." announced Sultan 2 that he was also ready to fill up his Falcon. Thus, the procedure repeated with him.

After so much time flying in darkness, both Falcons managed to see Al Dhafra in their sights, or rather, at the very least the steerpoint that marked their home base. With them carefully following the ATC, both of them managed to land safely and soundly. With only parking needed to be done, their mission was complete. A little show of force directed towards Skeleton Mafia, approved by the Sheikh of United Arab Emirates himself. Although he would have to wait for proper results, the message was sent across clearly. One wrong step done by Bowser, and United Arab Emirates would strike back harder than he can even imagine.