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444th Air Base, Zapland, Usea.
July 10th, 2019.
1200hrs.
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True to McKinsey's words, everyone spent the night in solitary confinement and the initial days following were tense. Full Band managed to spread a rumor that according to Erusean's doctrine, a big counter attack might be coming back towards them. For the first few days, all the pilots were tense. A fight even broke out in the yard giving the guards something to do finally. It only made sense that it might come since it's been days since the last air raid. The Zappland base would be a perfect target for a retaliatory strike. As the days grew closer to a week with no signs of any Erusean attack, the base seemed to relax a bit. If it was a time for a strike it would be now. For now though, the prisoners were split to perform tasks around the base to atone for their crimes as the base commander had put it. Some of the prisoners were taken away to work on the fake airfield, others were out in the mothball pit salvaging more parts to help repair the damaged planes. Others were divided up with the mechanics on the base to help with either the repairs or construction of the new planes the base commander ordered to be constructed. Mere was busy in hanger 1 trying to finish up the F-15. Assigned to her was Count and Trigger while Roofer and Tabloid were working with Queen on an F-16.
The reality though was that it was mostly Mere taking time to fix Trigger's mistakes while Count seemed to be on a perpetual break after every task he gets done leading to Mere having to get up, walk to the hanger door and pull him back for another task. Occasionally Queen would ask for her help with the XL before she'd be dragged back over with Count asking for some assistance on how he was to do the task again. What was usually a nice and relaxing job was turning into a rather aggravating task as she ping ponged between the two projects. After getting Count and Trigger back on some task of either tracing a wire or checking continuity, Mere ducked out to the hanger door and leaned against it. She gazed out to the air strip before feeling around her pockets pulling out a packet of cigarettes she won back on her first mission with Trigger. She wasn't much of a smoker but she used to smoke with friends in college, a habit she gave up after she enrolled in the flight academy. Now, after years of getting certified, clocking hundreds of flight hours as a WSO, and even getting assigned to her dream ship, she's staring down at a simple stick of minty menthol stress reliefe in a rundown penal unit stationed in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. Tapping the pack a few time she pulled the cigarette out with her teeth. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out an old worn bronze Zippo, she gave it a flick and light the cigarette taking a drag. Holding it for a second, she flicked the lighter closed with a clink before exhaling the smoke. Hearing some footsteps approach her, she glanced over seeing Count approach her. She must have had some scowl on her face as he raised his hands as he approached. Trying to relax a bit she looked back out over the airfield observing the other pilots washing their planes outside of the hangers.
"Relax, I got my work done. Just coming over to see what you're up to," Count lowered his hands as he stood next to Mere. He also reached into his pockets and pulled out a pack of his own.
"Never took you as a smoker," Mere commented as she gave Count the side eye.
"Yeah well the feelings mutual," Count mumbled as he was fishing around his pocket for his lighter.
"For the most part, I quit," Mere mumbled as the smoldering cigarette hung off her lip. "But given how everything has gone, might as well pick up the bad habit again." she shrugged as she took another puff of it. Count finally found the lighter and held it up trying to light up his cigarette. Mere continued to watch as he flicked his thumb over the striker multiple times, he even shook it and tried again to no avail. Raising an eyebrow, Mere fished into her own picket and pulled out the bronze zippo. "Count..."
"Gimme a second, I got it..." he mumbled as he tried to light his a few more times before he sighed hearing Mere flick open hers with a click. With a defeated sigh, he leaned over a bit as Mere lit his cigarette. Pulling back he took a draft before letting it out as Mere closed it with a clink. "Swear, the people running the shop only fill these pieces of garbage half way..."
"Get one you can easily refill and I can fill it up. It's much better that way," Mere pointed out as she rubbed the top of the bronze lighter, her eyes lingering out to the runway looking aimlessly at the different buildings and hangers.
"Yeah, well, never had the forethought to have one on me," Count let out a puff of smoke. "Why do you even have one to begin with?"
"Heat up shrink wrap, loosen up stiff plastic tubing, fidget toy," she rattled off before pausing as she looked down at the beaten surface of the pocket watch which served as a reminder of home. "And it's a lucky charm my uncle gave me. Saved his ass during the Circum-Pacific war."
"Can't be that lucky since it landed you here." Count muttered a bit.
"It's the thought that counts, Count. At least try and humor the intention a bit." Pulling the cigarette out of her mouth she looked at it when she heard a familiar hum in the distance. Taking a few steps out of the hangar, the Zappland sun started to beat down on her as she looked towards the sky. Count had followed and put a hand over his eyes finally finding the source of the noise.
"Hm... more transport planes... Full Band might be right afterall..." Count scoffed.
"I haven't seen him in a while, is he off with the others at the fake base?" Mere asked as she began to walk back for the hanger shade.
"He's supposed to be working on his plane but he said that he and Pick were gonna try to sneak into HQ. At least that's what Tabloid was telling earlier today," Count explained.
"Oh, someone say my name?" Tabloid was approaching the two with a smirk on his face as he was wiping some grease off his hands with a dirty rag.
"On the side. Just explaining the antics that Full Band is up to today to Hotwire."
"Ah the whole sneaking into HQ thing? For being so-so in the air, he really does love sticking his nose into danger while on the ground," Tabloid shook his head. "Heard he even convinced Bandog to help him get in there."
"Bandog?" Mere gave Tabloid an inquisitive look as took one last puff of her cigarette before stomping it out with her heel. "How'd he get him on his side?"
"Beats me," Tabloid shrugged as he sat on a crate. "But if anything, he's right about one thing he's told me. Those transport planes I hear out there?" Mere gave a nod as the noise was getting closer. "Well, he found out that the regular forces are gearing up for some operation soon and we might be used again as either a guard or force recon again. Maybe whatever is in those transports will give a clue what type of mission we'll be going on."
"Wonder if High Roller's on there..." Mere pondered a moment when the three went quiet. The air was filled with the echoes of wrenches turning, the clinking of tools being dropped back into their boxes when Tabloid spoke up again.
"Oh yeah, been meaning to ask, Hotwire, you were excited that the ejection seat worked in High Rollers plane. Why?"
Mere stiffened a bit as Count and Tabloid stared her down. She wanted to keep as few people out of the loop as possible for OPSEC reasons, but both Tabloid and Count don't seem like the people to try and kill the other inmates. Chewing her lip she tucked her arms behind her back as she lowered her voice.
"This doesn't leave here. I find out the others found out, I will personally break both of your legs," she glared at the two. Tabloid made a worried smirk as he threw his hands up in defense while Count was shocked at first before he smirked as well. Getting no verbal response, Mere let out a breath before continuing. "Look, I still don't know who, but someone had gone through all the planes and messed with the seats."
Tabloid eyes widened a bit and his mouth opened up to ask why when Mere raised a balled up fist to chest level. Her eyes were like dagger as she stared down Tabloid asking if he truly wanted to continue. Tabloid froze up and closed his mouth with a nod letting Mere relax a bit.
"The base commander is really that petty...?" Tabloid mumbled, his brow furrowed into a scowl. "Honestly, if this gets out to the others it will cause a riot. And you sure they were tampered with?"
"I checked them all leading up to the Roca Roja mission," Mere nodded. "I don't think he gave the order directly but I also don't know which of the ground crew might have done it."
"Hey... Could you teach me what to look for then?" Count suddenly asked.
"Huh?"
"Look, we're already kinda learning here. It should be fairly straight forward right? And it'll get work off of your plate as well." Count reasoned which Mere saw no fault in. If Tabloid and Count were able to check their planes on their own, that's two less planes she needs to check. Giving a nod she made her way back over to the Eagle and began her small lesson on how to wire up an ejection seat. Thank the lord Osea had already moved over to a universal ejection system for all their planes back before the Belkan war. It made teaching much easier as what Tabloid and Count learned here could be applied to their Mirage and Su-33 respectively. Deactivating the seat, she told the two of them to try and fix the problem themselves as she went to check on how Trigger was doing in the back. His work would be passable, nothing like what Roofer's been able to learn but it'll get the job done in a pinch. With a nod of her head she gave him a thumbs up when she heard a hushed conversation approaching the hanger door. Ducking down a bit, she saw three pairs of legs walk in and recognized both Full Band and Picks voice but the third seemed familiar. She couldn't quite put a finger on who though.
"I swear you two are gonna get us all killed."
"Relax, we got what we wanted and you got the money we promised," Pick tried to sooth the agitated person. Walking around the plane to get a better view. The other person was a short man, short black hair with a 5 o'clock shadow and what seemed like a permanent scowl. Though his face has some sharp angles, not a bad looking guy. His nose was a bit crooked from probably a previous break but it wasn't all that bad.
"But you two cut it way too close. If the base commander found out what I let you two do, he'd have all of our heads," the short man snarled at the two pilots when it clicked for Mere.
"Bandog?"
"Huh? What is it, Hotwire?" He looked over at her his brow furrowing a bit.
"Uh... Just... Finally putting a face to the voice," Mere said, trying not to act too surprised. Honestly, she found it weirder she hadn't met him earlier considering she transferred to the Zappland base in the middle of June.
"Wha- What do you mean by that?" Bandog's face went from surprise to anger in such a short time while Pick just laughed.
"Ahaaah! Bandog's too short for her to even notice you!"
"Shut it! I'm just below average!" Bandog shotback when both Count and Tabloid joined in on the conversation as well.
"He eats with us in the cafeteria and plays cards with us. How have you not noticed him, Hotwire?" Tabloid chuckled a bit as he ran his fingers through his messy blond hair.
"I just grab my food and head back out to the hangers to work again," Mere answered with a sigh. "McKinsey thinks we're miracle workers so he set such a fucking rediculous goal to make more planes for non-existant pilots. Shits stupid." Mere mumbled the last part.
"Well, Hotwire, Bandog. Guard Dog, our Wiring Goddess," Tabloid chuckled before he had to duck as Mere threw a roll of duct tape at him.
"Anyway, Full Band, you got something good this time or is it the same useless garbage as last?" Count asked, bringing the conversation back to the original topic.
"Oh I got the good stuff this time around," Full Band had a new air of confidence around him as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Remember High Roller's last bet?"
"About the whole doctrine thing?" Trigger asked. Full Band pointed a finger at him with a nod.
"Well I've won that bet with this piece of paper right here." He waved it around confidently but nodded his head to the side a bit sheepishly. "Well, sort of. It's the next strategy for the regular forces, not us."
Grabbing the paper, Mere unfolded it and began to read it over outloud.
"Fighters sent deep into Erusea for a recon mission... That's it?" she looked up and Full Band shrugged.
"It is what the next thing the Osean's are doing, that's for sure. I need to dig a bit more to get a location," Full Band answered as he plucked the paper from Mere's hands. "If anything, I saw an email that the base commander wants to get involved in this operation. My bet is that he'd want us as a meat shield for the valuable fighters being sent deep into their territory."
"You think the higher ups would want a penal unit of all units to be the ones involved in a highly valuable reconnaissance mission?" Bandog asked skeptically.
"What else explains the transport planes that just landed? I didn't get to print it out but I saw a shipping manifest as well with a lot of air to air armaments and a few more air to ground."
"Hey, throw a bone to the wolves as distraction," Pick answered nonchalantly. "Tried that with the guard dogs here. It worked... kind of..."
"And then you got caught and spent five days in solitary without food privileges," Count pointed out.
"It worked, kind of. First two were game... but I didn't count on the other three... But! Church and Dart are best friends with me! Can't say about the others but progress!"
"Dumbass, none of the guard dogs should be your friend to begin with. Now if you two decide to go back for more information count me out. I'm not risking the rest of my career for shoddy information like this."
"Oh don't be like that Bandog. Information can mean life or death for us out there. And if we know more, the less work you have to do. We can get our mission done fast and easy and you just need to relax in that comfy AWACS plane of yours." Full Band tried to persuade Bandog. "Plus, if you help us again, I'll add a bonus."
"Hmph... I'll think about it." Bandog had turned around and walked out of the hanger presumably back towards HQ. Full Band had a knowing smirk on his face when Trigger suddenly spoke up.
"Hey, any news on High Roller?"
"Eh? Oh, uh... I saw a message saying he's on a transport plane somewhere coming back. Don't know when but we aren't done with him quite yet." Full Band answered when the Scrap Queen suddenly shouted.
"You ladies done with your little tea party!? I've got lots of work for your asses so get over here before I kick it over!" Letting out a sigh, Mere nodded her head.
"Come on, she will do it if you don't."
With that, everyone went back to work on the planes. Mere thought that maybe if they worked enough, they'll get the blasted Eagle to start up so she could get a break. Maybe even work on that radio that Count mentioned last mission.
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444th Air Base, Zapland, Usea.
July 12, 2019.
0800 hrs.
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A few more days go by without so much as a word from Full Band or Pick. Mere didn't know if they gotten more intel or decided to scrap the plan entirely but today felt weird. Not the bad type of weird but the cafeteria itself held a weird energy to it all. Grabbing a tray, Mere slowly made her way down the line till it was her turn. Onto her tray was served a heaping serving of scrambled eggs, some hash browns, two of those processed sausages, and an apple. Raising an eyebrow, she was surprised that it almost smelled nicer than the usual gruel they provided for the prisoners. Making her way out, she was quickly waved down by Tabloid who was sitting with Count, Queen, Trigger, even Gramps and Mouse was there. Taking the open seat across from Count and beside Trigger, she looked around at the somewhat cheery faces.
"So, what's got you all smiling at sunshines and rainbows?" Mere asked the group as she sat down. She eyed Tabloid first who had his usual goofy smile when he pointed at the food.
"Go ahead, try it."
Picking up her plastic spoon she gave him a curious look before she took a scoop of eggs first. They were usually rather watery and loose yet they seemed to finally get it right this time. Taking a bite she began to chew. It was good. Like, really good. Taking another bite to make sure she wasn't dreaming about it and the food was honestly good.
"Well when you don't over add water and cook it all without salt or seasonings, shit tastes good," Count chuckled as he watched Mere start to dig into her food. "Hell, they added a few bits of bacon to the hashbrowns too."
"A lot of bulk food came in on those transports a few days ago," Mouse explained as he watched the young WSO almost choke on the food as she began to wolf it down.
"Easy there, Hotwire, don't want to have you dying on us from choking to death," Trigger mused as he bit down on the sausage.
"Ha. Ha. Funny," she flipped him the bird as she shook her head. "And when were you such a connoisseur of fine culinary knowledge Sir Count?"
"I can cook," he said confidently with a smile. Looking around the table though, the faces the others were giving him made him scoff a bit. "What, does no one believe me? Cooking's easy."
"Well... I can follow a recipe. Maybe burn it a bit but it'll be fine..." Mere mumbled through a full mouth.
"A sandwich is all you need," Queen shrugged.
"Well... I could concoct some fine college meals," Trigger rubbed the back of his head a bit. "Just add some peanut butter and Taco Bell hot sauce to ramen and boom, you got some pad thai." It was now Trigger's turn to get the stink eye from the others. Count even faked a gag reflex.
"Peanut butter and... What the fuck. You sure you didn't poison Harling?"
"Oh fuck off. Don't knock it till you try it." he just shook his head when he tried another one.
"Bread n' Butter Pickles and peanut butter sandwich is another." No dice. "Dijon mustard and mac'n'cheese." More disgusted looks. "Mayonnaise to crust up a steak."
"Mayo on a steak-" Tabloid only shook his head. "Fuck there goes my appetite..."
"Wait... No, I agree with that one," Count nodded his head. "If you use it to sear the steak, you get a better crust than with butter. And the dijon mustard is a good idea for mac."
"Please, no more. I want to enjoy this meal," Mere groaned while Mouse was writing something down. "Don't you try it Mouse!"
"I'm just curious!" he whined while Gramps just laughed. With the rowdiness dying down, Tabloid poked at his eggs before looking up at the others.
"Still... Foods good n' all but... Doesn't everyone here have a bad feeling about this?" Mere chewed on her lip a bit. She knew what he meant by a decent meal. A day before they were to attack Farbanti on the Kestrel, steak and eggs were served to all the crew. "You know, whole shipment of armaments a few days prior. Gramps here was tellin' us that most of the shipment was anti-air related weaponry."
"I know you've dealt with the air before with the base's air raids an' all but... Call it a hunch but somethin' doesn't feel right." Gramps grunted as he rubbed his arm.
"Oh you don't need to worry about us. I'm in the air after all," Count smirked as he jabbed a thumb into his chest.
"As if. I'm still gonna stick with the best and that's Trigger." Tabloid patted him on the back causing him to choke a bit as he was in the middle of swallowing. Bits of egg were coughed up when Trigger glared at Tabloid who backed away a bit putting his hands up as if saying he's sorry.
"Either way, Scrap Queen, is the F-15 ready?" Count turned the conversation around as Trigger recovered and looked back towards her.
"You know that's not my name, right?" Queen looked to Count seemingly a bit annoyed.
"We lost our name privileges since we came here," Tabloid reminded them. "And you didn't have one so we decided on it."
"I'd rather it be something like Blue Bird or Deep Blue," Queen sighed.
"Ah, but that'd go against tac name tradition," Count smirked. "You never pick it, just assigned it by your peers. Take Dookie for an example: He apparently took a dookie in his flight suit during a training flight. The new guy Sinker nearly didn't make it into the academy when they learned he couldn't float. Just sank to the bottom of the pool. Hotwire, I'm guessing she used to be into grand theft auto." Mere flipped him the bird but chuckled.
"Honestly, it's easier to hotwire a car than you'd think," Mere shrugged as she continued to eat; the hash browns were even fairly crunchy.
"And thus we get to you, Scrap Queen. You're able to turn all those scrapped and mothballed planes into working fighting machines. Queen of the Scrap."
"Well I'm not military so a tac name is useless to me... But I'll keep the name around. It does have its own charm to it." Queen nodded her head. "Back on topic, the 15's ready. That nightmare of a job is finally done as far as what Wire here tells me. But," she leaned forward on the table a bit and looked between the pilots. "She'll only fly with a pilot I think she deserves to fly with."
"Oh please, you know it's me. I used to fly them before so I can take care of her," Count boasted.
"You got assigned Eagles? Thought you'd be more a Falcon type of person," Mere mused a bit.
"And you still have a perfect working plane at your disposal. Count. This goes for you too Trigger. Just know this bird is waiting on you two but that doesn't mean you can just get your plane damaged. I'll know."
"Trigger's also gotten the most experience fighting those drones." Tabloid pointed out but he shook his head.
"So... What about a competition...?" Trigger spoke up eyeing Count. He leaned an arm against the table and peered at Trigger. "High score will be in line for the plane."
"What about Hotwire? Gonna just leave her?" Count asked suddenly which surprised both Trigger and Mere.
"Ah... well I'm only here because he wouldn't be able to use the radar without a WSO," Mere explained, "After that, he can choose what he wants. No hard feelings if he wants to be a single seater."
"Oh please, you're not that terrible either. I'd have you as my WSO any day." Mere looked at Trigger a bit surprised. Studying his face he seemed genuine and that he really meant it. Averting her gaze, she looked down at her food as she cut a sausage in half to get it onto her spoon. Glancing up to look at the others, Count was indifferent for the most part but it almost looked like he was a tad jealous. Tabloid was chatting with Mouse when the PA speakers whined to life.
"Attention inmates. Attention inmates. All pilots report to the briefing room. All ground crew report to your assigned hangers." With a whine and a click, the PA turned off. The cafeteria was dead quiet before the general noise came back. Some pilots were scarfing down the rest of their meal while others just got up leaving their trays. Mere stuffed the last of the hash browns and eggs into her mouth before she grabbed the apple to go. Tabloid had just thrown the two sausages into his mouth while Count got up and left ahead of the group while Queen waited for room to move her bum leg over the bench while Trigger got up and waited for Mere to walk with.
"So, bets on if Full Band was right about us being a distraction?" Tabloid smirked as he walked next to Mere and Trigger. Mere only shook her head while Trigger shrugged as they headed down to the briefing room at HQ. Entering, Count had already taken his seat in the middle row while Tabloid took the one next to him. As usual, Mere took the seat beside Tabloid and Trigger took the one beside his WSO. Looking back, she watched the rest of the pilots shuffle in when Champ threw himself into the chair behind them with a huff.
"Any idea what we're all doing here?" Champ asked, his arms crossed.
"Well if we're to go by what Full Band was telling us earlier, my guess is that it's gotta do with what the regular forces have planned," Tabloid leaned back in his chair a bit.
"Think we'll get a piece of that action?" Lampshade asked as he took his seat next to Champ while Roofer let out a deep chuckle.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Roofer mumbled as the rest of the squadron got seated. Everyone soon got quiet as Commander McKinsey entered the room. With the lights dimmed, the tac screen began to boot up. As the aid was busy logging into the terminal, Mere thought that the base commander seemed more upbeat and cheery than last time.
"Hmph. You know, I've received a medal for my ingenuity in finding a use for you cons," he began as the map appeared on the tac screen, "But just remember. If you disobey orders, there's a special place in solitary confinement for you." He glared down at all the pilots present. "Your so-called right to complain was forfeited the moment you chose to break the law. Do I make myself clear?"
A mumbled yes popcorned out of the crowd which seemed to satisfy the commander for now.
"Lucky for you, I've found a new way to make use of you convicts." The tac screen zoomed in on the Usean continent and a dotted line from an allied base made its way up north and around to a point on the map designated Stonehenge. Leaning forward she tapped Triggers knee before glancing at him nodding towards the map. He only shrugged in response when the base commander continued. "An Osean Air Force squadron is currently entering Erusean territory for reconnaissance. Due to certain factors, their return route has been changed." The line on the map straightened out to a near perfect line from Stonehenge back to the allied base. "The new return route will be through Yinshi Valley. A scenic and rocky karst area. We will admit, this is a last minute change but it changes nothing for you convicts."
The display zoomed in and changed to display a 3D model of the rocky area as well as an additional map showing the locations of key targets and general enemy placement. Mere began to chew on the inside of her mouth as she started to engrain each and every detail she could. Squinting a bit, she couldn't make out the exact topography of the flat map, but judging from what she would do if she were to defend the area, then the anti air weapons would be buried deep between the Karsts. "The enemy's radar facilities and anti-aircraft weapons hidden on the mountainside pose a serious threat. Your mission is to destroy them and get the recon team out in one piece, even if it puts your own lives in danger." Pausing as for what seemed like only for dramatic effect, McKinsey eyes tracked across the group of pilots before he continued. "And it is important to remember they will send up interceptors if you're detected. So you will need to choose something useful in a dogfight."
"Yeah, like we have a choice in planes," Count scoffed under his breath. "Tabloid, you think I can take your Mirrage?"
"Oh sure. Why not take Trigger's Tomcat. Comes with a free WSO," Tabloid joked while Mere just elbowed him slightly.
"Ah... W-Well, I wouldn't want to be seen as the guy with three strikes..." Count mumbled defensively while Mere just shook her head.
"Probably meant our weapon choice."
"Another thing. The weather won't be on your side, but you're doing this whether you like it or not. Worry about the squadron's return route, not your own. Your mission is to get them back safely even if it costs you your lives. Think of it as the perfect punishment for your crimes. Dismissed." Turning, McKinsey left through the side door leaving the rest of the pilots in silence. One by one, the pilots all shuffled out of the briefing room and made their way to their respective hangers. From the few conversations Mere heard, some were excited they were finally able to leave the prison while others complained at the mission's difficulty. Well, it was Weasle that was complaining about the mission the loudest. Staring at the tac screen Tabloid patted her shoulder as he got up.
"Did... Did he really just make a pun and then mic dropped us...?" Dookie asked no one in particular as he followed some pilots out.
"Welp, time to figure out what Gramps has to load for our planes," Tabloid sighed as he got up. "What great timing for a storm eh?"
"Those karsts are gonna be an issue..." Trigger mumbled as he got up.
"And the cat can only really take gravity ground ordinances too. Winds gotta be intense to erode those rocks in that way," Mere nodded. "Maybe we'll have a HARM pod?"
"HARM Pod? Please, why would a penal unit have one of those?" Weasel asked in passing. "But man, do I wish I had one again..."
"So that means you'll be our main air to ground, Tabloid," Trigger smirked as he patted his back. Tabloid face scrunched up as if to retort but he only let out a sigh in defeat. Getting up, Mere followed the rest of the pilots out. The temperature was still at a comfortable warm, but if the beating sun was to say anything, it will be yet another hot day in Zappland. At least they'll be out of here by then Mere figured. All the pilots have gone to their own hangers not really taking the base commanders orders too seriously. They had their own planes that they were used to, why change now? Entering hanger 4, they were suddenly met with a surprise.
"Oh shit, High Roller?!" Tabloid called out as he walked around first. Stepping out from behind Tabloid, Mere saw that High Roller was under Sinker's wing helping set up a wrack mount for some AGM missiles.
"Huh? Now the whole gang comes to say hi to me?" High Roller asked, almost sounding hurt. "First thing I get when I get back to god forsaken place is yelled at to get to this hanger. I thought y'all would have a party or some welcome back thing planned. But noooo, Gramps over there said to help prep the planes. You guys didn't even get a plane ready for me!"
"Well consider this your welcome party," Count smirked a bit as he walked by patting his shoulder.
"Yeah, well, what ever happened to that F-16 I saw in Hanger One a while back?"
"Dookie took that one. Queen basically said that it was totaled after Roca Roja so he nabbed that. New guy was assigned the extra F-18 we finished," Mere explained as she went to look over the Tomcat.
"Oh yeah, where's Gramps? I gotta tell him what load out I want on my plane," Count shouted from the front of the hanger.
"Jeez, you guys get all the fun while I'm stuck in this blasted base," High Roller mumbled as he finished tightening up a bolt. Mouse scouried on over from the other side of the plane to check his work before giving him a thumbs up. "As for Gramps, he's in the next hanger over."
"Ah, I'll go get him!" Driver perked up and ran out of the hanger to get their load master back in.
"Well consider this. You got first dibs on that XL Queen and I are finishing up," Mere said as she began the preflight walk around on their Tomcat. "Might not be like the Viper you used to fly but she'll handle about the same... I think."
"You think? Honestly, I've had enough shooting at me for a mission..." High Roller grunted as he got up wiping his hands on a rag he had in his pocket before he walked over to the Tomcat. "And uh... Thanks."
Mere looked down from the Tomcat's wing to High Roller. Quirking her head to the side she raised an eyebrow.
"Ah, for telling me to eject. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't think of punching out. So... Well, I'll sweeten the pot for you next time." He gave her a confident smile. "Still owe you more than that but this is the best I can do at the moment."
"Oh don't worry too much, just doing what I can to try and keep everyone alive," Mere brushed it off as she went back to work prepping her plane just as Driver came back with Gramps.
