And the story continues.

Disclaimer: TV Asashi owns Area 88 while Ace Combat 5 is owned by Namco.

Area 88

Return of the Razgriz

Chapter 5:

Swing Wing Jubilee

0935 Hours. Quarters of Marcus Snow.

In the morning light the shapes of two figures could be seen entangled in wrinkled sheets. The fading redolence of passionate arousal wafted around the small room on weak currents of wind. The figure on the bottom of the two-person dog-pile shifted as it nuzzled closer to the heat coming from its partner. Reunited lovers dropped back into to dreamland with happy sighs of fulfillment.

The Blue Rose of Highbury had found a love long lost but never forgotten.

1045 Hours. Quarters of Marcus Snow.

Marcus 'Swordsman' Snow, thirty-five years of age; former Osean Maritime Air Defense Force fighter pilot and air group commander, sat at the desk in his no frills quarters and gazed fondly at the woman still asleep in his bed. His dark eyes followed the familiar lines of her milk chocolate skin as she rolled over; her body unconsciously seeking the fading warmth that had been there a short time before. Stifling a chuckle, Marcus watched as the Legendary Blue Rose of Highbury realized that she was alone in the bed where until an hour before there had been the comforting warmth of another warm-blooded animal.

Her hazel eyes slowly opened and glanced at her surroundings. Recognizing that she wasn't in her own assigned room, the eyes jolted open before her mind kicked in and reminded her of the events of the previous night. Settling her eyes on the flight suited figure sitting in the uncomfortable straight back metal chair, her breathing smoothed out. Marcus lifted an eyebrow as he saw the heaving of her naked chest under the thin sheets slow to a normal pace. Leaning back in his seat, Snow watched as the woman sat up and stretched, allowing the sheets to drop away from her chest and the still perky breasts that showed no signs of sagging.

"Do you like what you see?", came her accented velvety voice as she cast a coy smile in his direction with hooded eyes.

"Yes, I do. Been a long time since I last witnessed such a magnificent sight.", came his barely calm reply.

"Climb back under these sheets and we'll see about stimulating your memory some more."

"I wish I could and I really, really, want to but we've been on a safety stand down for more than enough time to get fully recognizant with these acrobatic 'procedures'."

"I see, well if you're not going to let me get more proficient at these 'procedures', then I need you to find me a towel and a clean flightsuit so I can take a shower. Besides, I believe you'd rather not have your barracks mates see the real me.", stated Rose as she placed her bare feet on the cold polished concrete and wrapped her nude form in the thick blanket lying wadded up on the floor.

Snow just chuckled as rose from his seat and tossed the overnight bag (delivered by a blushing Grimm accompanied by a smirking Nelson) onto the bed before striding to his door and checking the hallway for extraneous eyes. Seeing none, Snow went over to his closet and opened the door. Reaching in and pulling out his robe, Snow mentioned that the baroness had stopped by earlier and dropped one of her own towels into the bag. Rose told Marcus that she'd have to thank the baroness later and Snow mentioned that Kitori would, more than likely, buttonhole her after their long-delayed debrief.

Turning back from his door, Snow looked at Rose as she tightened the belt on the loaned robe and smothered a lust-tinted growled laugh as the material draped over her slender form like a tent. The only thing that kept the edges from dragging around on the ground was Rose's height: Rosemarie Harris-White was the same height as Baroness Kitori Palvanoff. Ignoring the frown on Rose's face, Marcus led her out into the hall and towards the communal showers situated in every barracks building. The hallway, usually echoing with the clop-clop of flight boots as pilots entered and exited the building, was almost quiet. The only sounds were the firm steps of Snow in his flight boots and the softer flip-flop of Rose in her shower shoes.

Opening the door to the-surprisingly clean-bathroom area, Snow pointed Rose in the direction of the showers. As she stepped past him with her toiletries in her arm, Rose brushed against him and drew a gasp of desire out of him. Chuckling at her intended's sudden breathing trouble, Rose entered the shower area and found a stall midway down the line. Opening the half-door, the six foot beauty with mocha-colored skin slipped out of her borrowed robe and turned on the needle-like spray of water. When it reached the temperature she desired, Rose stepped under the spray and let the warm water loosen up her tightened muscles. Lost in her actions, Rose started when she suddenly felt a pair of large calloused hands take the soap out of her grasp and proceeded to run over her body and work up a large amount of lather. Gazing over her shoulder, the former Tornado pilot saw that her paramour had stepped into the shower-flightsuit and all-and relieved her of her lathering duties. Within seconds of his entering the stall, Rose had had to playfully slap away wandering fingers. This little finger battle lasted until one of his digits slipped past her defenses and into her center.

Rose swooned and nearly lost her balance as the finger deftly stroked her to a thundering climax. Lifting her head up and glaring at the self-satisfied grin on Snow's face, Rose somehow gathered the strength to push him out of the stall with a light admonishment.

"If you do that again, I won't be able to finish my shower. And if I don't get to finish my shower, you don't get a repeat of last nights actions. Now kindly step out so I can finish.", snapped Rose with a dour look on her face.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I'll let you finish. If you need me, I'll be up front guarding your innocence.", replied Snow as he backed away.

Rose grinned to herself as she heard the hurried footsteps of her loved one rapidly retreating to the other side of the room. Before she could enjoy the remainder of her shower, Marcus' voice echoed off the tiles.

"So that's why they call you 'The Blue Rose of Highbury'. I've never noticed it.", came the liltingly teasing baritone voice she so loved.

Rose froze as the water fell on to her face. His words reverberated through her mind and snapped her out of her stupor. Gasping to herself, the bathing woman glanced down at the small tattoo inscribed on the inside of her thigh near the entrance to her interior. Moaning in embarrassment, the thirty-three year old fighter pilot instantly regretted getting the stupid thing. She'd designed it one night when she was a teenager and had gone out with some friends to a local pub. One thing led to another and Rose ended up with a dare she knew she shouldn't have taken. Several nights later, Rose lost her virginity and gained a tattoo.

A tattoo of Highbury Stadium encircling a blue rose.

The tattoo artist who she gave her virginity to in exchange for the work, still called it his best work ever. Of course her friends begged to know the story. When they found out that Rose had snuck into the stadium one night and, at mid-field no less, slept with the attractive artist. They immediately tagged her with the new nickname.

Grumbling to herself and shutting off the water, Rose stepped out of the stall dried off before rewrapping her now towel-covered form in her borrowed robe. Standing at the door, Rose saw that her lover had the brains to look suitably apologetic. Deciding to make the best of the situation, Rose stepped up to the six four pilot whispered something in his ear. Mentally rejoicing as she heard his hasty intake of breath, Rose walked past him and exited the shower area as she made her way back to his room where a fresh set of underwear and a fresh flightsuit awaited her.

Staring at the departing form of his old flame, Marcus stiffened as he remembered her words as she passed. Feeling a familiar tightness in his flightsuit, the Osean pilot ran a finger around his collar and wondered how in the hell could that woman throw a swivel in her hips as she sensuously slunk away. Tossing his thoughts up to fate, Marcus could only say one thing.

"Oh boy."

1217 Hours. Area 88 Messhall.

Blaze Thomas sat at the table eating lunch with his wife draped over his back. The pair had gone on an early morning combat air patrol (CAP) shortly after they'd woken up. On the way out to the flight line, Blaze had tried to check on Swordsman but had been discouraged when the baritone-voiced pilot had yelled through his door for Blaze to go away and leave him alone. Shrugging his shoulders, Blaze had done so only to run into Edge's disapproving look. Now back from the mission and relaxing, Blaze asked his companions if they'd seen the wayward pilot at all this morning.

I can't say that I have, Blaze. I haven't seen hide nor hair of either Swordsman or Rose since last night when Saki ordered everyone out of that particular barracks.", replied Shin Kazama as he flipped through an old copy of 'Sports Illustrated' magazine.

At the end of the table, Mickey was about to make a comment when he was hit in the back of the head by a rolled up newspaper wielded by Kitori Palvanoff. Turning around and glaring at the baroness, the Tomcat driver started to say something.

"Don't. Say. Another. Word, Mickey. Your lewd comments will not be appreciated at this time.", growled Kitori.

"Aww come on, Kitori. I'm not like that!", protested Mickey.

"Mickey, I've known you for several years so I know you're lying.", replied Kim Aba as he took another drink from his mug of coffee.

The group laughed as Mickey grumbled good-naturedly about the teenaged pilot turning on his friend just to stay on Kitori's good side.

1230 Hours. Flightline.

Gustav placed his hands on his hips as he surveyed the battered F-14D. Just looking at it with his experienced eyes told the expert mechanic that it was going to be awhile before this particular bird flew the skies again. Even then, it might not be as good as it used to be. Shaking his head, Gustav turned towards the McCoy's warehouse. On his way there, he ran into one of the other pilots. The master mechanic told the pilot that it would be a few hours before he and his team were able to start on repairs to the pilots' plane, one of the Corsair II's that had survived the attack led by Blaze Thomas and Shin Kazama. Downhearted, the pilot nodded his head and headed towards the lounge. If he couldn't fly, he could always listen to the others.

Gustav watched the eager young man go and shook his head again. Continuing on his way, he entered the cool dimness of the old mans one stop mercenary air force shop.

"McCoy! Hey McCoy where are you ya old bastard? I need to talk to you about ordering the parts for Swordsman's Tomcat. And it's a long list.", called Gustav as he made his way to the counter and leaned against it.

"Oh really, how long is it?", replied the old arms dealer as he came out from his 'office'.

"It's long enough to cost him an arm and a leg. Swordsman would be better off ordering a new Tomcat. That bird of his is so damaged, it's gonna take a lot of time just to get it back to spec. Not to mention to his personal specifications.", grumbled the mechanic.

"I see. Well, let's get started. First off tell me what parts you need me to order. That way I can go ahead and give you the parts I already have so the work can start."

Gustav nodded and proceeded to tell the dealer what he needed. It was going to be a long day.

1300 Hours. Briefing Room.

Now fully dressed in a clean flightsuit and visibly relaxed, Rose Harris-White accepted the mug of coffee from Marcus and sat down in one of the folding chairs in the briefing room. Projected on the screen at the front of the room was the first of the developed photos from the photo run she and Snow had undertaken. Getting comfortable in her seat and drinking her coffee, Rose prepared for the mission debriefing to start. Commander Vashtarl's aide Leo conducted the debrief.

Leo asked about the first picture while he and a couple of the Intel geeks took notes. Marcus and Rose answered the questions asked of them as well as gave their opinions on some of the pictures. Snow also mentioned his suspicions about why they weren't challenged during their recon run even though they were over enemy territory and pretty damn blatant about what they were doing.

"Leo, they couldn't be that dumb as to just let us sit there and basically spy on them while they just sat there fat, dumb, and happy! If the rebels had tried that shit over here, we would've blasted them even before they could get into range. The only thing I could think of for their lack of a reaction is either they were hoping we would take the pictures and return home without spotting anything of any interest, or somebody ordered them to stand down and just go about their everyday normal business so that they could observe us and our tactics while we observed what amounted to nothing in the long run.", stated Snow two hours into the debrief.

"Yeah, it was too quiet over the location. It was only when we spotted the AA site in the desert apparently guarding nothing when everything went apeshit. If it wasn't for both of us spotting that site, we wouldn't know what they were hiding. However, since we blew the camp to scrap or tried to, it must've revealed something. I just wanna know the location of those 57 mike-mikes that came up and shot our engine to pieces.", sniffed Rose as she placed her cup of coffee on the table in front of her chair.

Leo gazed at the crew in front of him and noticed that they complemented each other as a crew and as a couple. When one was placing his/her cup on the table, the other was picking theirs up. Leo also noticed that where Marcus was more aggressive in his posture, Rose was passive, leaning back in her seat and observing her partner's reactions. Sighing to himself, Leo decided that it was time to take a break.

"Okay you two; let's take a break for right now. We've been at it for several hours now.", commented Leo as he rose from his seat after placing his notepad on the table.

Rose and Marcus nodded in agreement with the suggestion and rose from their seats as well. Giving her prodigal lover a quick peck on the cheek, Rose hurried off to the bathroom to alleviate the building pressure on her bladder while Marcus strolled over to the window and stared out at the flightline where a quartet of Tomcats were prepping for a sortie assigned by Commander Vashtarl. Recognizing the artwork on the closest Tomcat as belonging to Knightewolfe Smith, the thirty-five year old Osean Naval Aviator grinned and wished he could be flying with them on their mission.

Same Time. Freelancer 110 on Flightline.

If Knightewolfe Smith knew what Swordsman was thinking, the six foot three inch tall black aviator would've gladly given the older pilot a counteroffer to fly the sortie for him. Usually partnered with his buddy Warlock over in Tomcat 205, Wolfe had just found out that he was being partnered with a nugget Tomcat crew on what promised to be an eye-opening patrol over one of the more dangerous of operations areas.

Needless to say, Knightewolfe was not happy.

"Who the fuck came up with this screwball of a mission; and why the hell am I being given a newbie wingman? Dammit Boss Saki, what gives?", roared the pilot as he stood by his bird with his hands on his hips.

"Look, Wolfe, if I could partner you with any of the other veterans, I would. However, with Swordsman's bird down and Mickey just back from a mission with Kazama, we're stuck with just four operational Tomcats: your 'Black Panther', Warlocks' 'Bald Eagle', Rockbird's 'Classy Chassis', and the unnamed bird of the nuggets. And with 'Classy Chassis' in need of some maintenance work, Rockbird needs a wingman who'll help him return safely.", growled Saki as he drew heavily on his burning cigarette.

Knightewolfe cursed and spit on the ground as he let the commander's words filter through his mind. He was about to ask Saki why he wasn't assigned to fly with Rockbird when an exasperated Saki threw down his cigarette in frustration and told him the other reason why he was getting his turn on the shit detail.

"Warlock's already flown with the nugget once and flat out refused to fly with him again. He told me that if he was stuck with the nuggets on his wing, he'd shoot them down himself."

"Oh gee Saki, you don't think I'd do the same!"

"Have you flown with them?"

"What?"

"Have you flown with them before?"

"What kind of question is that, Saki?", snapped Wolfe.

"Answer the dammed question: Have. You. Flown. With. Them. Before?", returned the base commander.

"You already know the answer to that. No I haven't flown with the nuggets yet and if I could have it my way, I wouldn't fly with them on my wing.", growled Knightewolfe as he faced Saki.

"Well then guess what, you're flying with them on your wing today and THAT IS FINAL!. If ya don't like it well tough shit then, mercenary! Now get in your plane and FLY THE DAMMED MISSION!", Saki yelled at Wolfe before whirling away to forestall anymore complaints.

Knightewolfe glared at the rapidly retreating back of the prince and slung his helmet to the ground. Sitting in his usual position in the backseat, 'Big Eyes' Talvert threw his hands up into the air and grumbled about their 'rotten luck'. Ignoring his RIO for a moment, Knightewolfe stalked to where his new wingman was giving his overhauled B-model Tomcat a thorough preflight inspection. Dropping a heavy hand on the other man's shoulder, Knightewolfe spun him around and gave him a short and to the point 'pep talk'.

"I don't care what you and your RIO were called in the fleet; out here it's a different story. You gotta prove yourself to earn your callsign! This ain't no peace time exercise, this is the real deal. We're fighting for our lives out here and it's not just the enemy we're fighting. We're also fighting the climate, the supply line, and our own pasts! I don't wanna be your buddy and I ain't gonna be your friend. Out here it's almost every man and woman for himself. Since you and your backseater are newbies here, you can kinda guess who's gonna get the short end of the stick. Once we're up in the sky, you follow my orders exactly. If I order you to RTB, then I want you to return to base and I don't give a damn if you're in hot pursuit of a bandit. Here at Area 88, even though we're mercenaries only flying and fighting for a paycheck, we still have a semblance of discipline. If you fail to accept that discipline, there won't be a court-martial if you get my drift. Do you understand? Good, now finish your pre-flight and shag ass into your cockpit. We got a mission to fly. One last thing, we fly 'loose deuce', not 'welded wing'. Seeing that you're a former Tailhooker, I take it you at least know the basics of 'Loose Deuce' and 'Combat Spread' right? Good. Let's go, nugget.", stated Knightewolfe as he turned on his heel and headed back to his fighter.

Knightewolfe was so incensed by his new-albeit hopefully temporary-wingman, that he didn't see the look of pure poison on the new guys' face. Even if he had, it wouldn't have mattered to Wolfe. He would've given the asshole five seconds to change his expression or he would change it himself with his fists.

Airborne over the desert; three hours later.

The quartet of Tomcats were halfway to the target they'd been assigned and 'Big Eyes' Talvert had been dealing with Wolfe's grumbling about his wingman the entire flight. Frankly, it was starting to get on his nerves. If Wolfe wasn't bitching about the nuggets flight discipline, he was complaining about the temperature in his cockpit or some other inconsequential thing. For his part, Talvert had dutifully performed his RIO duties and let his pilot talk. He'd kept up an ongoing conversation with 'Pungent' Casey over in the two-oh-five bird as well as with Rockbird's RIO over in 'Classy Chassis'. Checking his radar picture, Talvert spotted what looked to be a gaggle of bogies a couple of hundred miles ahead.

"Wolfe, I got a radar contact. Course 085, range two double oh. Can't tell what they are since I'm in search mode on the AWG nine. But I'm guessing there's a passel of nogoodniks ahead lookin' for a scrap."

"I copy that Big Eye. They're just coming up on my screen here now. I don't wanna spook 'em by lighting them up so I'm gonna cheat it around to the west a bit so we can get a better look. Pass it on to Warlock and Rockbird. Let them know I want them to break high and left to loiter for a bit until we get a positive ID. Set the nuggets up for a high-speed pass on the contact. If they're bad guys I wanna see if they'll bite on the fake. If they do, lock on with a Sparrow and we'll hit 'em from long distance. Tell the nuggets to be damn careful. If this is a sucker move on the enemies part, have the nuggets hall ass then come around to re-engage. And express to them that we're covering for Warlock and Rockbird. I don't want them getting a WHUTA and pulling a 'John Wayne' on us."

"Copy that Wolfe. I'm passing on your instructions."

Up in the front cockpit, Knightewolfe nodded to himself and started psyching himself up for the coming dogfight. Casting a sidelong glance out the front corner of his cockpit windscreen, he saw the sleek arrowhead of his wingman speeding ahead from his position a mile ahead and a thousand feet above Wolfe's plane. So far, the nuggets had been following his directions to the letter. Wolfe grudgingly gave them a bit of a mental compliment, though he would deny it till hell froze over if his buddies called him on it. Switching his weapons selector switch to the 'AiM-7 detent, Knightewolfe Smith waited for the festivities to begin.

While Wolfe, Warlock, Rockbird, and the nuggets were getting their flights sorted, Swordsman was weathering a quiet verbal blast from Admiral Andresen over his cavalier display of bravado and his lack of common sense over his latest misadventures in the desert.

"Yessir, yessir! I won't do such a damn fool thing again sir. Yes sir. No sir. I agree sir. Yes admiral. I copy that loud and clear admiral. Aye aye admiral. Have a good day sir.", parroted Marcus as he finished the long distance call set up by McCoy-who hit him up for three thousand bucks-and approved by Saki.

Behind him, Swordsman could feel the grins directed his way from Blaze and the rest of his friends as well as from Rose and Nelson. Hanging up the handset, Snow turned to face his own personal peanut gallery and prepared to pass on what the admiral had said. Of course, the admiral wouldn't be the admiral if he didn't chew a strip of hide from everyone on that sortie and tell his wayward air group commander to pass his words on to the interested parties. Facing his friends,, Marcus saw the look on Blaze's face and sighed.

"At least at the end of his 'talk', Admiral Andressen did tell me that I did a good job. But I guess I'll keep that to myself for now; my friends would not believe it!", thought Snow as he sighed again.

Surprisingly, Grimm was the first to speak.

"So how did it go Swordsman? Was the admiral happy to hear from you after your 'eventful' mission yesterday?"

One glance at Archer's oh so innocent face and Marcus knew he'd been set up by the Blaze the Annoyingly Eternal Prankster. Deciding to just go ahead and face the slings and arrows of a fate so fickle, Marcus just shrugged his shoulders in acceptance.

"Archer, you know the answer to that question as well as I do. Don't be a wiseass! At least I wasn't the only one the admiral threatened with a keelhauling. He blasted everyone on the mission who-in his words-'allowed his missing former wing commander to pull such a stupid ass stunt'. He blasted the flight lead and her wingman for allowing it, he slammed my wingman (who is on another mission, the lucky bastard) for not sticking to my wing throughout the most violent of maneuvers. And to top it off he chastised my RIO for not knocking some since into my head and talking me out of doing what I did. Does that cover everything in a nutshell?", asked Marcus as he slipped his sunglasses on.

The reactions around the room were varied to say the least. The Osean contingent cracked up laughing, Saki grinned and nodded, McCoy rubbed his chin with a financially speculative gleam in his eyes as he tried to figure out how to make some money off of this. Kitori shrugged her shoulders and went back to her cup of coffee; Emily turned a florid shade of angry red, while Rose fumed.

"As if that hardheaded hotshot would listen to me in the midst of battle, I was just his damn backseater and there aren't any flight controls in the backseat of a Tomcat! Shit, I'm already in the fucking hole cash-wise here and trying to make some money to afford the high cost of living here and now I got some bloody Osean four star x-amount of miles away 'chastising' me for not reigning in his hotheaded former air group commander! Both of them are sodding arseholes in my book. I can't wait till I get my own plane, then I could drop dumbass in my backseat and show him what real low-level flying is about!", mentally ranted Rose while ruthlessly suppressing the fact that one of the arseholes in question did have a nice arse.

A few steps over from where Rose was fuming, Edge noticed the angry look that was starting to sprout across the attractive face of Snow's lost paramour and correctly guessed that if she didn't step in, Rose was going to erupt in a rage. Stepping over to the taller woman, Edge put her hand on Rose's shoulder and called out to McCoy.

"Hey McCoy, you old bastard. Gimme a bottle of your best bourbon and five clean glasses, Rose, Stiletto, Kitori, and I gotta talk. Blaze, see if you can round up Kazama Ryouko and have her join us. After that, go check on my Rhino. Take Archer and Snow with you. Archer's Red Stag probably needs some work and Snow can see how far Gustav's got on his Tomcat.", Edge called while using her hand to turn Rose towards the door.

"But Edge, I thought ….", started Blaze before Kei sharply cut him off.

"That's right you thought! Now get busy and go do something. I got other things to deal with right now. Later.".

All Blaze could do was stare, jaw agape as his wife sauntered out the door with a familiar look on her face and the other three females in tow. Once the quartet was out of sight, Blaze shook his head in confusion.

"Dammit, what in the hell did I do to piss her off This time?", wondered Blaze in his confusion.

Swordsman and the remaining men just looked at the bewildered pilot.

Airborne in Freelancer 110

Knightewolfe Smith grunted as he yanked his control stick back into his stomach while stomping on his right rudder pedal to avoid the gunfire spitting from one of the enemy Fishbeds that his flight ad discovered. The bastards were good, too good to

be the usual run of the mill rebel 'hit-n-git' pilots they usually ran in to. These pilots knew how to mix it up and were extremely aggressive. They used the abilities of their fighters to their best advantage.

After launching his Sparrow at the gaggle of bandits, Knightewolfe had gritted his teeth as he waited for the semi-active radar homing missile to get its final target acquisition and shriek towards his chosen target. Of course, once the gaggle had detected the signal of somebody's incoming death, they scattered and went on the offensive. Missiles and cannon shells dotted the one pristine sky as Knightewolfe and his wingman engaged t rebels.

Knowing the abilities of the MiG-21, Knight knew that he had to make the battle an energy fight-which his Tomcat excelled at-instead of the angles fight that was the Fishbed's aerial forte. Unfortunately, Knightewolfe's wingman went charging in like the Light Brigade.

"Hey Wolfe, our wingie's gone wild hare on us!", growled Big Eyes Talvert as he fought against the g-forces acting upon the Tomcat.

"HE DID WHAT?", yelled Wolfe as he jerked his head over to where his wingman was supposed to be.

"Yeah, he's speeding in at mach 1."

"Aww shit! I Told Boss Saki That I Didn't Wanna Fly With This Guy! Now we gotta go save his ass before he buys the damn farm. Crap!.", grumbled Wolfe as he reversed position and went after the wayward crew.

Okay, this is just a preview of what I have so far for this chapter. I wanted to give the readers who've been waiting for so long a Christmas presen. Please enjoy. I Hope to have this hcapter finised by early next year.

Merry Christmas to All!!

Knightewolfe

Knightewolfe's Den

25 December 2011