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444th Air Base, Zapland, Usea.
July 18th, 2019.
1130hrs.
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The storm that they flew through in Yinshi Valley had finally made its way down to Zappland as the rain still hadn't let up since it started the day before. Its journey over to the base had weakened it considerably and eased up to showering them in light rain. Most of the occupants welcome the drop in temperature. Since everything was at a reasonable temperature the efficiency of the mechanics rose substantially and they pushed to finish the repairs on the recon planes. With that major order off their plate, they could fully focus on the Spare's planes that were still in dire need of repairs. Tabloid's plane was one of the few damaged planes they managed to piece back together first and was in drastic need of some paint to blend in the patches. Other than some minor repairs on the other planes, Lampshade's and Trigger's planes were chewed up the most. If they were to have a mission in the next week or so, they wouldn't be ready for it. Mere was currently busy in Count's Su-33's cockpit having pulled gauges and displays out to work on his HUD again. He complained that it was acting funny again at Yinshi Valley and wanted her help to fix it. If Mere would have her way, she'd just roll the Flanker out onto the tarmac and light it on fire. This would be the fourth time she'd have to work out the electrical gremlins that seemed to be plaguing this damned airframe and frankly, it's a miracle that nothing else has gone wrong with it so far.
Having fixed what appeared to be the issue, Mere glanced over at Count who was also hanging out in the hangar near one of the work tables. He was busy toying with the broken radio the base's store had on the shelf. Mere was quite surprised when she found out that he was the one who took it. She had gone to the store to pick it up after she got out of solitary from the Roca Roja mission and it annoyed her finding that it was gone. Shaking her head a bit she went back to work putting everything back together before climbing out of the Flanker. Walking on over to Count, he was fiddling with something before he turned the radio around and flicked the power switch seemingly expecting something just to get a whole lot of nothing out of it. He started to fiddle with a dial seeing if anything, even static would come out before putting it down with a sigh.
"Giving up so soon?" Mere asked trying not to sound too smug as she was still a little miffed he got the radio first. Count looked up at her and just rolled his eyes as he flicked the power switch off and started to pull it apart again.
"I won't just roll over and accept it like that. You know me better than that, Wire," Count scoffed a bit as he started to unscrew the cover and get to the inner guts of the thing. "Put new batteries and it all looked good on the inside. It seemed easy enough to get working again."
Mere watched him open it up carefully pulling the batteries out and he started to look around and poke at some wires on the inside. Raising an eyebrow a bit as she looked at the tools he had with him yet he was missing one that she thought she drilled in his head to always bring if he was to work on electronics. Sauntering over to one of the toolboxes on the ground she flipped it open and started to shift some things around before pulling a multimeter out. Walking back over Count was busy poking at some wires before he used some sandpaper to clean what was a fairly corroded contact. Putting the device on the table, Count looked at it before up at her.
"So, were my lessons not interesting enough for you to remember the basics of electrical work?" Mere asked putting a hand on her hip while Count grabbed the device and shrugged.
"If you consider that a lesson then you'd probably get a reward for your work: Worst Teacher of the Year. 'Just put the two ends on these wires here and mark which ones had a low number.' Not exactly teaching how or why to use it." Count smirked at her a bit while Mere just shook her head.
"Well consider this a free lesson then. This here is a Multi-Meter," she tapped the device with its name on top of it, "You can read right?" Count gave her a side eye as he flipped her off garnering a small chuckle in response. "Now then, positive and negative probes. You completed high school physics so should know what those are. You're just poking around to see where the power is getting to and completing a circuit."
"Tch, I knew that," Count picked up the two leads and started to poke at the battery getting no reading. Reaching over Mere twisted the multi meters nob to the on position and the correct setting. Count looked at the device his brow furrowing a bit when his gaze went up to Mere who was trying her best not to look all that smug before back to the radio at hand getting a reading from the batteries. "I knew that... Just testing you."
"Of course. Sir Count knows all there is to know about electronics. He shouldn't need the help of the local electrical engineer," Mere mused as she straightened up. "I'm sure you have the rest of this covered?"
"Track where power is supposed to go and see if power is getting there. Should be easy enough," Count smirked confidently. "Who knows, maybe I'll even take over your job once I get this thing to work."
"Would be one workload off my plate. You can then just work on your plane when it acts up," Mere smirked as she gathered her tools into her toolbox. "Speaking of, I managed to find the problem and fix it. She should be fine for now but I swear your Flanker will be the death of me."
"Oh don't be all gloom. She's got character and has kept me alive mission after mission. I just can't part with this old girl quite yet," Count reasoned as she waved one of the probes around. He turned in his seat to get a better look at his Su-33, his eyes lingering a bit on this own personal emblem. "Plus Trigger's already laid claim to the F-15. His sin lines are already painted on the tail. Plus, if you believe me or not, I used to fly Eagles before being sent here. Heard he only flew F-16s before so I'll allow him to get a taste of a real fighter. So could you and the Scrap Queen pull another miracle and nab a new fighter out of the scrap area for me? Preferably I dunno... Maybe an F-22? Mayhaps even a Su-47?"
"A Berkut? Oh yes, I'll just reach into my bag of miracles so we can grow a Su-47 out of the ground else we can totally find a mothballed Su-47 that either Osea or Usea has in their inventory."
"Who knows? Maybe some Belkan scrap is left here. Worth a shot." Count chuckled a bit. Mere opened her mouth to throw in another retort when the sounds of footsteps splashing outside echoed in the hangar. Looking to the entrance as the footsteps got louder, Tabloid came running into the hangar with a wet piece of cardboard held above his head.
"Hey, Tabloid," Mere called out first while he was catching his breath. "What's got you in such a hurry?"
"Did the president give us all full pardons of our crimes?" Count asked sarcastically as he looked up from the radio.
"As if the president would care about a penal unit like us. No, It's McKinsey!" Tabloid walked a bit closer the piece of cardboard still in his hands. "I was with Avril turning in a repair report for the other planes when I overheard McKinsey and that Wiseman fellow talking about flying today!"
"In this soup?" Mere raised an eyebrow looking out at the rain. "Well, with the F-15s finished up it makes sense that you'd want to test the planes before flying back. But why do you look so excited?"
"Well, before you interrupted me, I was getting there. I overheard Wiseman mention that he wants a few of us pilots to also go up for a mock dogfight!"
"Wait, seriously? You sure you heard that right Tabloid?" Mere crossed her arms and leaned forward a bit her eyes wide while Tabloid just flashed her a grin.
"Yeah, I heard him mention Trigger and Count by name!" he excitedly answered while Mere couldn't help but crack a grin.
"You hear that? Finally getting the recognition that you've always wanted Count," Mere looked at Count who kept a neutral expression.
"So those pilots just want to get in the air with us? And how sure are you that McKinsey will even say yes to all this?"
"Well, I didn't hear a hard no from the base commander when I was in there and the tone of the conversation seemed like he was considering it."
"Oh that's just a pipe dream, Tabloid," Count scowled. "Besides, what would we even get out of fighting them? We're in buckets of scrap while they're in top-of-the-line F-15s. Eagles Tabloid, Eagles" Count tapped the table adding emphasis to his words. "I'm sure this is just to stroke their egos," Count grumbled as he went back to working on the radio. A scowl formed on Mere's face she shifted her weight to one leg.
"What's up with you? Out of everyone here I'd thought you'd be the most excited at this news. An ace has taken notice of you and even mentioned you by name to the base commander. This could be huge for you!" Mere's face scrunched up in confusion looking at the indifference Count was expressing when he just let out a snort.
"And what? Do you think that a single Major's opinion will change our entire situation? We're stuck in a penal unit to be used as disposable pawns. Wiseman probably sees us as pawns as well just to benefit himself." Count went on. "Nothing will come from this whole situation. The sooner they leave the better."
"Wow. Really inspiring aren't you Count?" Tabloid scoffed while Count used the radio as a distraction.
"You really think that Wiseman is just using us? Do you really think that poorly of those pilots?" Mere asked, her fists bawling up. "After they stood up for us in front of McKinsey, after all they did to keep the base commander off our ass. You think they're really just some assholes that will chew us up and spit us out?"
"Why are you even this invested in what Wiseman thinks of us pilots?" Count spat as he looked over at the other two. "You're not even a real pilot Hotwire. You just sit on your ass in the back letting Trigger do all the work."
Count's words echoed a bit in the hangar before his words were swept away by the pitter-patter of the rain outside. Mere's eyes widened ever so slightly as Count's words stung her ears. She's been ridiculed by Full Band and some of the other pilots for her position, but she never expected Count to say such a thing to her either. Her hands clenched into a tighter fist as Count's hard gaze softened a bit seemingly realizing what he said. He opened his mouth to say something when Mere cut him off.
"Just because I never formally got my wings as a fighter pilot to become a WSO doesn't mean that I am less of an important position in a crew. I completed every task you had to complete outside of combat flight training. I still had to pass my basic flight certification as well as earn my training wings flying T-45s and T-39s to get my instrument flight certs as well as pass my SERE with flying colors. I've done 90% of everything you had to do to get your wings. My crew is my life and my partner. I will do everything in my power to make sure they fucking live." Mere's eyes burned with anger as she stared down the now shocked Count. Tabloid was off to the side now just as stunned as his cell mate by Mere's sudden outburst. Mere had raised her balled fists a bit from her yelling causing Count to raise his own hands a bit as if to defend himself. He only relaxed slightly when Mere let out a huff relaxing her hands before she just turned and stormed out of the hangar.
"Wait, Hotwire! I didn't mean-" Count called out to Mere, yet his words only fell on deaf ears as she walked through the hangar doors and into the rain. Tabloid watched Mere go before looking back at Count seemingly a bit disappointed.
"Quite the wizard with your words aren't you, Count? Hey, Wire, wait up!" Tabloid ran off to try and talk to her leaving Count alone with his own thoughts. He stared at the open hangar door in silence as the splash of footsteps faded to the pitter-patter of the rain on the metal roof. Clenching a fist, Count just scoffed as he turned his attention back to the broken radio. He never really understood women and he thought that maybe the ones in the military would be different yet here he was seemingly back to square one trying to understand Hotwire. Just when he thought he had figured Hotwire out, he pushed a button and she blew up in his face, and of all things it was about those damned Recon pilots. Maybe it was just that time of month for her. Being a conman himself, he could smell another a mile away, and that Wiseman fellow reeks with the rest of the pilots he flew with. Something about them just pissed Count off. Maybe it's the fact they're free to go where they pleased on this base and the sky or the fact that they'd probably be praised and respected as heroes. Either way, he's stuck here in a god-forsaken penal unit so it's all on him to get himself out of here.
Mere, all the while, was still fuming as she stomped through the rain towards one of the other hangars. She wasn't bothered by the weather as the rain soaked into her hair and clothes. All she needed was to get some space and cool her head off. She was used to the ridicule that the other pilots had for her. Full Band was one of the main people on base to try and belittle her for her position and there were also all the ribbing the other strike squadron pilots had for her back on the Kestrel yet Count's words stung the worst. She thought that since he saw Trigger as his rival, he would have some respect for the work she's done with him, yet that reality was quickly shattered. Clenching her hands and releasing them, she let out a huff. It was then that she noted a new sound as if the rain was hitting something. Looking up she noticed a piece of cardboard was held above her head acting as an umbrella. Looking to her right, she saw that Tabloid had run after her.
"Well, maybe the rain is doing something good for you by cooling your head off," Tabloid smirked a bit while Mere just gave him a confused look.
"Well... Thanks for the umbrella," she quickly said as the two continued to walk into hangar 1. She wanted to get the furthest away from Count as she could, so she just bypassed hangar 2 and went for the first one. With the XL Falcon, two seater super Hornet, and the Eagle all finished up it left the hangar empty and quiet. Most of the mechanics were either away in one of the three other hangars or were chilling in their cell or personal quarters. Out of the rain, Tabloid discarded the piece of cardboard he had while Mere ran her hands through her hair squeezing the excess water out before wiping it on her flight suits pant leg.
"So..." Tabloid ran a hand through his wet hair glancing at Mere. "You wanna talk about it?"
"About what?" Mere turned to face him though her words may have come out harder than she intended as he recoiled a bit.
"Well... It's quite unlike you to blow up like that... Well, at least from the few weeks I've known you at least. I've always thought you had some thick skin to tolerate us so it was a bit of a surprise seeing you blow up at Count."
"Yeah well... He just happened to find one of my buttons that set me off. Nothing more just..." Mere let out a sigh as she walked on over and took a seat on a sturdy wooden crate in the hangar. "I honestly didn't think he'd trigger me that badly either... I'm somewhat used to the ridicule that comes with being a WSO from other pilots, but I always just punched back by excelling at my job. I like to think that I am contributing but... Well, being with pilots like Trigger, it's hard to tell."
"Well... can't pull from any experiences I've had myself as I've been a one seat pilot my whole career, and I can say that Trigger is indeed an amazing pilot and… Hearing your calm and informative radio callouts while he flies like a maniac is impressive. It's like having a mini AWACS in the area. This is also on top of trying to work a radar while fighting in an MMA ring." Tabloid tried to assure her. Mere let off a little chuckle at one of his comments though.
"AWACS huh? Want me to act more like Bandog?"
"Please, I don't want another Bandog barking up my leg," Tabloid let out a light laugh. "And with everything all said and done... Having an extra pair of eyes in the back does sound quite useful. Takes a load off my shoulders at least."
"That and another pair of arms... Mom used to always tell me stories when she was a WSO always pulling her pilot out of trouble," Mere smirked a bit as she remembered every story she and Uncle Chopper told her. "In the air, at the bar, or even in a stadium, she was there for him."
"Stadium?" Tabloid smirk turned to surprise. Studying Mere a bit more the resemblance is a bit uncanny the more he put his mind to it. "Small world…" he mumbled catching Mere's attention.
"What was that?"
"Ah, well, just sounds like a good role model, that's all." Tabloid deflected. "After all, it sounds like it runs in your blood."
"Well... If you ever wanted to get a taste of the WSO life, I did see a few 2000Ds in the mothball pit..." Mere commented as she picked at some dirt on her fingers.
"Ah, thanks for the offer but I honestly think I'd crack having to worry about another soul on board." Tabloid rubbed the back of his head a bit as he looked at his Mirage which was currently being housed in the hangar. The patches still needed some work and the wet weather wasn't helping the situation either. The plane still needed a paint job but for what it's worth, she was airworthy even if just barely. "Honestly might look into a new plane soon. Who knows how many more flight hours she has in her."
"Willing to make a bet on that?" High Roller's voice suddenly echoed from the back of the hangar. The two looked back seeing High Roller slowly approach the two an arm stretched up and his mouth agape mid yawn.
"High Roller? When did you get here?" Tabloid asked surprised seeing another person in the hangars.
"Always been. You know it's surpringly easy to take a nap in peace in these hangars when it's raining. Those wooden boxes are more comfy than you'd think."
"I can second that. Piece of cardboard and a dirty rag combo for a pillow and you're lights out for at least an hour," Mere added. "Surprised to see you in the hangar though and not back in the cells playing poker with Full Band and the others."
"Well... Picked up a thing or two from Weasel to look like you're busy n' all. Guards don't give two shits what goes on in here it's honestly amazing no one's exploited it to try and get out."
"True... As much as solitary sucks, it's not too bad here. Guards make moonshine we can trade with and they hate being here as much as we do. Maybe they're trying to be more lenient with us since we've got those regulars stuck here as well."
"Wanna bet on it?" High Roller raised an eyebrow while Tabloid just shook his hand and head. "As for the second part of your question, well, Full Band's been actin' weird n' all. Seems like he's been avoiding me and the others. In the free time the Scrap Queen has given me I've seen him hanging out with Pick a bunch talkin' about somethin' but on the hush hush. It doesn't take a betting man to know he's up to something but a big bet I'd take is figuring out what he's really up to."
"Maybe he really is looking into that doctrine thing we were talking about last mission," Tabloid suggested though the conversation was quickly cut short as the three of them heard what sounded like a truck approaching the hangar. Turning to the entrance they could see a fuel truck had pulled up near the hangar as well as a van. The door slid open and some of the ground crew had jumped out making a dash to get inside and out of the rain. One of the last few to get out was Barb who glanced around before setting his eyes on Tabloid.
"So that's where you disappeared off to, Tabloid!" Barb yelled over the commotion. "Commander McKinsey has orders to send some of you convicts up in a mock dogfight with the regulars. Get your gear ready, you'll be going up!"
"Wha- you serious?" Tabloid smirk grew a bit. "Who else will be going up with me?"
"Uh... Think it was Skunk, Count, you, and Trigger," Barb said as he began to help go over some real quick ground checks on the Mirage. Tabloid couldn't help and do a small fist pump before tapping Mere's shoulder in excitement.
"Well, guess what I heard came out true. We did a good enough job to get their attention! Real aces want us up there with them!" Mere smiled as she felt a bit excited and was expecting Trigger to be apart of that group. She was getting so excited she was ready to run off to get her own gear when reality struck her. She looked past Tabloid and his own aircraft at the F-15 that was also being prepped by the ground crew. As happy as she felt that that nightmare of a project was finished, it didn't change the fact that she's basically grounded again.
"Well... Some of us is getting the recognition they deserve." Mere gave a pat to Tabloid's arm. He looked back at her a bit confused when it dawned on him as well. He quickly hid it again under his smile.
"Yeah, well, they're missing out. Maybe another time, Wire," Tabloid said as he went off to his own locker pulling his gear out. As if there will be another time... Mere thought as she stood out of the way letting the ground crew work hooking up the Mirage and the Eagle to some pusher to get the planes out of the hangar and fueled up. Walking near the front, Mere looked down the line seeing that Count's and Skunk's planes were pulled out of hangar three with their respective pilots sitting in their cockpits. Skunk was already powering up his plane while Count seemed to go through his own checklist lethargically. Just beyond the Flanker and Falcon sat the recon pilots Eagles all lined up ready to go. It was then that she noticed a figure running out of the fourth hangar. The familiar flash of yellow and orange on the helmet indicated who it was as she watched Trigger run on over to the ladder on his new plane. The two briefly made eye contact which Mere just gave a thumbs up which was returned by him as well. One by one the convicts planes fired up before they all started to taxi on over to the runway. Down the runway the eight planes rumbled before disappearing into the clouds above.
Tapping the tip of her boot on the concrete ground, a wave of tiredness finally took hold of her as she let out a yawn. It's been a tiering few days with the work on both the recon and base's planes and she has yet to fully recovered from that fight she was a part of against that Mr. X guy. Making her way to the back of the hangar, she pushed two wooden boxes together that were about the same height before grabbing a rag and a piece of cardboard to fashion into a pillow of sorts. Laying down, the wave of exhaustion finally took hold as she drifted off into what she thinks of as a well deserved nap. They won't be back for a while if the recon pilots wanted to really test their planes out. Resting an arm over her eyes she quickly drifted off to sleep.