Peace Games
Operation: Aggressor Defense
1300hrs. 14th February 2021
Forster Bay
Mock dogfight in classic fighters chosen by participants over Forster Bay. Two teams are randomly made; A and B. A-team arrives in the bay first and must defend against B who arrives ten minutes later. Team with the most "kills" gains their players medals based on personal score.

"...the opening ceremony was really cool too. The march of the countries, the speech by the president, all of it was amazing!"

"I swear... Wernher, would you shut up?! I can't even hear the sound of the plane's engines over your droning!"

"Silly, you're supposed to not hear much of the engines in the cockpit, that's the point. By the way, I have a name, Captain Kreulich."

The pilot of the F-4E Phantom II aircraft growled, inciting a chuckle from the WSO. "Who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick her in here with me..." he grumbled. After this, silence took its place, allowing the pilot some time to look at the passing scenery as they neared the rendezvous point. Blue waters waved calmly down below and the hilly coastline was a vibrant shade of green, despite the cold season. Alongside the Phantom flew a loose formation composed of a strange hodgepodge of other vintage fighters, such as two A-7E Corsair II's, one with ISAF markings and one with the familiar blue roundel of the Osean Maritime Defense Force, a pair of MiG-23's, both with Yuktobanian Air Force insignia, a single F-5E Tiger II decorated with the blue roundel of the REAF, a Jaguar in Osean Air Defense Force markings, and finally the joint Neucom Emergency Unit-General Resources Defense Force F-4E Phantom II, flying in the center of the seven plane formation.

None of the pilots spoke to each other for the moment, mostly due to the fact that a radio frequency hadn't yet been set up, but they had somehow managed to find a serviceable formation, not too tight, nor too distanced, but a bit jumbled, to be frank. For the moment, all they had to do was fly to the rendezvous point where they would meet their own AWACS who would be one of the referees for the match and also give tactical information to the team. Finally, after a good moment of waiting, the voice of the AWACS operator was heard by the pilots.

AWACS
<<Good afternoon, A-Team, AWACS Oracle here. As you've been briefed, I'll watch over you all during this match. B-Team is due to arrive in ten minutes, so get yourselves ready. As soon as I detect B-Team within a ten kilometer radius, we'll allow open communication between you all, but for the moment, feel free to ask me anything.>>

Nodding, Charles spoke in return. "Oracle, this is Anemi-One. Glad to have you." As he said this, he put on the oxygen mask and made a gesture to the planes next to his in the formation to break off and get into the defensive position they had decided upon earlier. The fighters all broke off and began to fly at a slower speed on a head-on to the position where the adversaries would normally be coming from and prepared the virtual missiles to be fired, a few tubes that had been placed on the hardpoints of the aircraft, along with real missiles of which the firing could only be enabled by the AWACS, meant to add realistic weight to the planes. Within moments, Team-A was ready to begin the match, and all they awaited was for Oracle to open communications.

"I wonder why they disabled communications?" His co-pilot spoke up as they waited. Charles thought over it for a moment before responding.

"Probably so we have to make all strategies in advance, or something. Gives it a special difficulty that makes it interesting for the audience. We are on TV after all."He gestured to the glint of a specially modified U-2 above the combat-zone.

"I see." The cockpit of the Phantom fell back into silence for a good moment before the young girl spoke again. "Say, I wonder where..."

AWACS
<< A-Team, I've got the adversaries on radar, bearing 160, flying fast. Opening communications... what?>>

The sudden pause of the operator worried Charles. "AWACS, what's wrong?" He asked as he turned the plane. Wait, turn the plane? Wasn't B-Team supposed to attack them from their current bearing of 300, not 160? The rest of the team turned as well to meet the adversaries. Suddenly, missile lock warnings began going off in almost perfect unison in the planes. Realizing the situation, Charles yelled over radio. "A-Team, everyone break, those aren't virtuals!" He pulled the plane up, just as a Sidewinder missile flew past, followed by a MiG-29, not one of the planes allowed in the mock dogfight.

AWACS
<< A-Team, that's not B-Team! Unlocking missiles, you have permission to engage the bogies!>>

"Affirmative, Oracle. You heard the man, let's do this!" Charles responded over radio as he began to chase one of the MiGs. "Border Boy engaging."

"Ribbon, engaging!" His co-pilot said shortly after him as she began to track the Fulcrum from the WSO seat.

Natasha sat patiently in her MiG-23 as the seven plane A-Team flew above the bay, waiting for the arrival of the other team. She was nearly on the outside left of the amoebic formation, only her Number Two farther out. It was odd for a single squadron to be sending more than one pilot to the Peace Games, but Natasha had learned to trust Angie enough to encourage her to apply over the three years that Angie had been Natasha's Number Two. It was only coincidence that had put the two on the same team. As they flew, Natasha looked right and surveyed the rest of the group. What an odd group of outdated aircraft, she thought to herself as she looked at the Corsairs, Jaguar, Tiger, and Phantom in the middle. She noticed one of the Corsairs had ISAF markings and hoped the pilot wouldn't find out she was Erusean...then again, the Oseans seemed to be doing fine with two Yuke planes in their group. She noted that an Estovakian plane was conspicuously absent...perhaps on the other team? Despite wishing to see actual combat and finally get that fifth kill, she was glad current conditions were peaceful enough that all the formerly warring countries could be at peace. After almost forty years on Strangereal, however, she knew that all it took was a very small spark to ignite the entire world into war again.

Soon enough the AWACS got on the radio. << Good afternoon, A-Team, AWACS Oracle here. As you've been briefed, I'll watch over you all during this match. B-Team is due to arrive in ten minutes, so get yourselves ready. As soon as I detect B-Team within a ten kilometer radius, we'll allow open communication between you all, but for the moment, feel free to ask me anything. >> Natasha concisely responded: "Kvant One here. Thanks for covering us, Oracle." Long before ten minutes had passed, the AWACS got on the comm again. << A-Team, I've got the adversaries on radar, bearing 160... >> 160 isn't right, Natasha immediately thought. While there was a chance the B-Team just arrived from the wrong heading, Natasha knew better than to not get on her guard. She prepared to switch to the live missiles as the AWACS paused: << Opening communications... what? >> Now Natasha definitely knew something was up, and as if on cue she got a missile lock warning. "A-Team, everyone break, those aren't virtuals!" the Phantom pilot yelled. Natasha was already on the stick, breaking hard right and down, barely avoiding a Sidewinder. << A-Team, that's not B-Team! Unlocking missiles, you have permission to engage the bogies! >> The second the AWACS unlocked the live missiles Natasha had them equipped. "Yellow, engaging," Natasha responded in a tone uncharacteristically calm for a surprise attack. Now that communications were open, she radioed her wingman. "Angel, stay close." Engage as a formation. No single-ship attacks. Yellow 13's words still rang in her head. Even if there was no way she could keep this ragtag squadron together (especially because she wasn't the flight lead), she would keep her wingman with her. She pulled up and left to get back up to altitude and chasing the bogies. When she finally saw what the fighters were, she knew it would be difficult. She was in a MiG-23 and they were in MiG-29s. Hardly a fair fight...but when is it ever? she thought as she began attempting to draw a missile lock on one of the bogeys.

"Meteor, engaging."

This was supposed to be a friendly match, not a shooting war against aircraft a decade newer than hers. Kate pushed the throttle to the stops and quickly accelerated thanks to the lack of a bomb load. Reaching mach 1.2 she pulled climb, gaining as much altitude as possible. Still climbing, she rolled towards the nearest MiG, climbing above it and turning in behind the enemy. The difference in aircraft quickly became apparent as it began to pull away, cutting into a sharp turn. She followed, barely able to keep up with the more agile jet.

She thought for a second about the direction they had come from. 190 would be out to sea, meaning they must have launched from a carrier. She lost that train of thought as the MiG began to climb, pulling away rapidly. The jets afterburners provided a quick lock for the missiles and she fired.

"Meteor, Fox Two."

Angie looked at the bay, the sun reflecting off of the waters as the "formation" passed over it. Being in the back gave her the best view. Turning her head to the front, she saw her Squad leader in front of her. She had been placed in her squadron when she was exchanged for some new aircraft, much to her dismay. As the AWACS spoke into the radio, she communicated back "Kvant Two here. good to have someone watching us!". As soon as she started to doze off, Oracle announced the situation, she instinctively switched to alert and onto missiles.

this isn't good She thought, looking towards the dots in the sky. as soon as she had gotten locked on, she banked left, avoiding the incoming missile. She did a barrel roll and approached Kvant Lead

"I got you, Yellow!" She stated, her MiGs wings switching ti swept, trying to lock onto the Bogey as well

"Angel Engaging!"

Just in the opening seconds, the missile lock alarm had already rung in Husein's F-5. Damn it, I'm out of the competition before I could do anything! he thought to himself. He wondered how would Emmerian viewers think of what had just happened after he disappointed them completely. But instead of confirming his elimination, the AWACS told something completely different.

A-Team, that's not B-Team! Unlocking missiles, you have permission to engage the bogies!

The first thing Husein did was making a hard break, then attempted to maintain a 9-o-clock position relative to the missile. As soon as he broke the missile's lock, he said over the radio, "Mold, engaging," and then equipped his missiles and attempted to find the aggressor. Finding the aggressor using the Identification Friend-or-Foe (IFF) system didn't work because even his 'friends' were detected as 'foes', which is actually expected to occur, because the system was designed to identify Emmerian aircrafts. Now he has to actually look around for planes that weren't there before. By the time he found a hostile MiG-29, it was already on his tail.

Scott held the A-7E with a firm and confident hand on the stick with his gloved right hand, and his left resting gently on the throttle. Amidst the mass of analog dials and readouts, he rolled his shoulders under the straps and survival gear, before glancing out of the canopy to look at the aircraft around him of the composite squadron he was part of.
The mix of aircraft was fascinating. He was pleased to see another A-7E in the group, and smiled under his mask at the sight. More interesting though were the two shark-like shapes of the MiG-23's, which he'd never seen up close, and especially never operated alongside. He was eager to see what they'd do once they got into the active portion of events. The swing-wing fighters were impressive enough in flight, seeing them boring in on a target at speed was bound to be even more so. The Jaguar was also unfamiliar and interesting, an aircraft similar - broadly - in role to the A-7, but more powerful with it's twin engines, and higher speed than the subsonic 'SLUF' he was flying. Though, he loved his Corsair II, Guppy-mouthed bomb-truck that it was.
Two Phantoms and a Tiger rounded out the group, types he was more familiar with, and of a similar vintage to his own mount. The unit was an assorted bunch for sure, with the national -and corporate - insignia adding to the cacophony of shapes and colours in the group.
Unbuckling his mask a moment to wipe a hand around his face, he completed the motion, turning back to the scan his instruments once more, before the radio burst to life with the voice of the AWACS operator, off aboard the E-3 Sentry in the area, talking them into position and giving them a sitrep on the simulated bandits in their area.
The voice of their flight lead was calm and confident, and bolstered his own confidence as he directed them smoothly into the pre-briefed formation and spacing. It added a confidence to his own nerves as he smoothly completed the position change, spreading out into a wider formation. His hands and feet jockeyed the A-7 into it's place in the group, and he gave a slight smile under his mask. The Corsair wasn't designed for air-to-air combat, but by god he was going to show exactly what the SLUF could do.
Before he could do much more, however, things changed. The tone in the AWACS operators' voice became more urgent as he reported a second time, his words more rapid fire as he passed on their next orders.
A-Team, that's not B-Team! Unlocking missiles, you have permission to engage the bogies!
"Shit," he muttered to himself in the cockpit, his eyes going wide, before he slid his sun visor down, wrung his hands in their position on the stick and throttle, and flicked the MASTER ARM switch on his panel, bringing the SDM's and Vulcan to life. Everything was green, and he steadied his voice into the normal artificially cool fighter pilot tone before he checked in over the radio.
"Romeo, Engaging".
Almost as soon as he'd spoke up, the Radar Warning Receiver buzzed into his helmet. A flurry of chatter followed over the radio as the rest of the squad engaged. Rolling out hard left and diving to break the lock, he swivelled his head, grunting against the G as he bought the sub-sonic Corsair through a half-roll and climb, goosing the throttle past another stop, pouring on more dinosaurs to gain speed from the dive-and-climb. Rolling wings-level, he saw the F-5 ahead, it's dart-like profile scything through the air with a Fulcrum on its' tail. His mind racing a moment, he recalled the pilots' call sign and spoke over the squadron channel.
"Mold, on your tail. Bandit's mine, over".
Flicking the fire-selector for MSSL, he uncaged the super-cooled seeker 'eye' in the nose of the SDM in the left-most of the 5-tube pods. The warbling tone for the missile sounded as it searched for the hot exhausts of the MiG, and as he stood hard on the pedal and rolled the stick left to stay on the tail of the MiG, his breathing strained and muscles aching with the effort, he was rewarded with the steady buzz of a lock-on.
"Angel Nine, fox two," he reported and thumbed the trigger on the top of the stick. The SDM blasted away on a plume of white smoke, and he coaxed a few more knots out of the throttle as the missile streaked ahead.

Miku felt her hand shaking a little on the stick between her legs. Here she was, barely out of the Fleet Replacement Squadron, and here she was in some exhibition flight.

She was clearly nervous.

And what happened next didn’t do much to settle those nerves. Quite the opposite in fact.

”A-Team, that's not B-Team! Unlocking missiles, you have permission to engage the bogies!”

Taking her hand off the throttle, she engaged her MASTER ARM, before clamping it as hard as she could around the thrust lever to stop it shaking so badly.

“A-Angel Witch… E-engaging…” She stammered into her microphone.

And then the missile warning kicked in as the first R-73 came screaming towards her, forcing her to drag the stick back and to the left, pulling her Corsair up into a long climbing turn.

Within moments of the missiles being fired, all of the pilots had taken action, to the Captain's relief. However, one plane seemed to be faltering in her reprisal. Looking around what he could see as he chased the MiG, he decided that the other pilots could take the baton. However, he didn't leave the fighter without so much as a good bye. "Lieutenant, unlock from the MiG, but give it a burst of the 20 mil, would you kindly?"

"Sure thing, Cap." The Erusian WSO said as she opened fire on the cannon, crippling the MiG-29.

"Not bad, Lieutenant." The Belkan immediately pulled the plane off from behind the Fulcrum and directed the plane towards a position where he could aid the A-7E Corsair II that seemed to be having problems. "Angel Witch, we'll be helping you out." At that moment, Oracle once again game on radio.

AWACS
<<A-Team, I've got two important announcements. First of all, we have managed to intercept enemy communications without them knowing. We'll relay anything that's not just random chatter. Second, reinforcements from McNealy Air Force Base should be here in about fifteen minutes. We just need you all to survive until then.>>

"Got it Oracle." Erika spoke in response, but she was shortly interrupted by an enemy transmission.

Enemy Air
<<Major, these guys are actually pretty damn good! Permission to break off?>>

<<Negative, Lieutenant. We just need to hold these guys at bay while Mask Squadron gets here, then we can leave while they wipe things up. Ten minutes about.>>

Charles made a bothered expression under his mask as he heard this. Mask Squadron? Suddenly, he was broken away from his thoughts by the sight and sound of two of the assailants exploding in unison.

AWACS
<< Scratch one for Meteor, scratch one for Romeo. That leaves eight of them. Give 'em hell guys! >>

"Looks like we need to pick up the pace, Captain." His co-pilot put in as he nodded. "We can start with that MiG chasing Angel Witch, if you want." She noted as she readied to make firing preparations.

"Exactly what I was thinking." He finished as he slowed down his plane to give himself in the pursuing MiG some distance, making sure not to let anything get on his tail. When it passed, he pushed to full throttle and the Phantom rocketed ahead after the MiG. Since the MiG was more focused on chasing the less maneuverable Corsair, it allowed him to easily make a lock. "Fire, Lieutenant."

"Alright. Fox-Two!" She exclaimed as she fired the missile. The SDM left its canister without problems and soared through the air with ease, landing a powerful hit on the MiG. It began to spin, and it broke away, but it quickly regained stability. However, it began to turn away.

Enemy Air
<< Captain, I've been heavily damaged, cannot continue to fight. I'm RTB.>>

<< Fine, but don't expect any of us to protect you. You leave by yourself!>>

With this, the plane's targeting indicator, changed by the AWACS, turned to yellow, indicating a non-essential target...

Scott was exhilarated as he saw the SDM connect with the MiG-29, a shower of flame and debris erupting from the hit on the twin-tailed, twin-engined Fulcrum. He caught sight of a parachute opening below and gave a momentary thought of relief that the enemy pilot had escaped the destruction of his aircraft, before turning his head back to the game.
One of the MiG's appeared to be bugging out, and he toggled the transmit switch on his throttle. "AWACs, this is Romeo. One bandit appears to be RTB and no factor. Looks like one of the enemy pilots ejected too, can we get SAR to the area to pick 'em up, over?"
Turning the Corsair, he slid into a position above and behind the F-5. "Mold, your tail's clear. Glad to be of assistance. That one's free, over".
Banking slightly hard left into a turn to belly-check the plane, he slid the pugnacious little ground-attacker into another slicing turn to bring his nose back in-line with the enemy formation, and fed power to the jet's engines again as the hostiles were back on the nose. Signalling with hand movements and taking a lead position with the Tiger, he cut hard across the tail of one of the bandits, diving in from on-high to maximise his closing rate and store of power. The SDM tone sounded again, and he launched without hesitation. However, this pilot was more alert, and a spread of flares burst from the MiG as it cut away into a powerful break. The harsh buzz of an enemy lockon sounded in his ears, and he mirrored his targets' move against the bandit who'd snuck up on his six. Flares blossomed from the A-7E as he dived and rolled, pulling hard to break the contact, huffing and breathing hard into his mask, the smell of rubber and fear filling his nose and mouth, and the jarring growl of the locked-on missile battering his ears as the horizon danced outside the canopy, spiralling between up and down as he pushed the SLUF through every move he knew. Small particles of dirt and miscellaneous objects became momentarily floating as the G's spun wildly along with his stomach.
The RWR buzz howled in his ears, and his vision tunnelled into grey as he desperately tried to avoid the MiG gunning for his tail. Vapour streamed from the A-7's wingtips as he sliced through the air in snap-rolling moves, the jets' aluminium skin gleaming under the sunlight. Would the next moment bring the explosive concussion that had him reaching for the handle between his knees? Would he even feel it? Would the lock break, or would one of his new comrades bring down the Fulcrum? His mind whirled with thoughts bubbling under the surface as he pulled yet another break.

Too slow. She'd been too slow to react to the incoming missile, but not by much. While Miku had managed to avoid it, it detonated inside her exhaust cone, sending shrapnel scything into her engine. Things were bad, but they could be a hell of a lot worse, she mused to herself, even though fear had already sucked the colour from her face as she wrestled with the controls to try and stabilise her bucking jet.

"C-copy that... I think you might be a bit too late though. I think I've taken some shrapnel or something; my plane's a bit sluggish on the pitch and I'm down on thrust."

Inside the cockpit of Natasha's MiG-23, things were a lot calmer than in the other cockpits. Countless dogfights flying in two wars and only getting shot down once by the Ace of Aces ensured Natasha's calmness in the midst of calamity. << Scratch one for Meteor, scratch one for Romeo. That leaves eight of them. Give 'em hell guys! >> Either our pilots are really good or theirs are really bad, to be taken down in MiG-29s. Looks like I'll be able to get that fifth kill after all, Natasha thought. As the plane she was chasing had been downed by Romeo, Natasha searched for another bandit. Before she could find one, her cockpit erupted into the sound of missile locks. Natasha inverted the Flogger and pulled up, diving hard down and left. A quick head swivel revealed that there were not one but two Fulcrums chasing her. While the most experienced of the group, she knew that this was not a good situation. "Yellow here - two bogeys on my six. Can anyone assist?" She called as she made a hard right, avoiding a missile. As she pulled out of the turn she slammed the throttle and the wings of the MiG-23 swept back. With a top speed of Mach 2.32, the MiG-23 slightly bested the 29's Mach 2.25. It was a gamble to go for high speed in a dogfight, but she went for it as the afterburner kicked in and she flew in a long, upward and left curve. Her missile locks momentarily subsided and she pulled up sharply as she cut power and hit the airbrakes, causing her airspeed to sharply reduce. With luck, this would send the pursuing MiGs underneath and past her as she leveled out her climb. The maneuver worked, the two MiGs sliding in front of her below, but not before they were able to make a few hits with their cannons. Natasha's plane was rattled but functional and she was unhurt. She slammed on the throttle again to catch up to the now running MiGs, noting a reduction in agility after the cannon hits. She was still close behind the MiGs and saw an opportunity. She got missile lock for the left MiG and quickly fired off an AA-11 Archer heat-seeking missile, calling "Fox Two" as it screamed towards the left MiG, and barely after that missile had left the aircraft she got missile lock on the right MiG and fired off another Archer, calling "Fox Two" again. She was down two Archer missiles but had the chance to get both her fifth and sixth kill.

Immediately after her second missile left the aircraft, Natasha saw Romeo's A-7 Corsair being pursued closely by a Fulcrum above and to her right, and immediately pulled the stick up and hit the afterburner to intercept. She was unable to see whether her not her two missiles had connected with their targets, and would have to rely on Oracle for that information. Screaming in fast nearly perpendicular to the chase, she was unable to draw a lock on the Fulcrum and took action. She showed the pursuing Fulcrum the broadside of her Flogger as she cut in front of the MiGs target reticle just as it fired a missile at the A-7. Thankfully, the missile locked onto her and broke from the A-7 to pursue her, but unthankfully she now had a missile on her tail. She pulled the stick hard up and right and bled airspeed, hoping to make the missile overshoot. She had been at enough of a perpendicular angle to begin with that the missile overshot and flew off into the horizon, and could now breathe a little bit as her cockpit was momentarily silent from missile lock warnings. Noting a yellow target in the distance, she paid it no mind as it was out of combat and there were still some red targets left to be taken care of.

Angel looked to her radar as she heard the missile warning, seeing a MiG coming in towards her at a fast speed. She banked right and into a Kulbit, confusing the other MiG pilot who could only follow her for so long

"I think I was put up against a Nugget!" She chuckled, getting behind the bogey and putting a few rounds down on it. She hit it's tail and wing, but it escaped before she could do any more damage. she followed a bit behind, her plane's turn time was slow compare to the newer ones. As she flew past her Leader and the others, another 29 came from above and shot her wings, nearly hitting her canopy, right as she fired a missile at the one she was chasing.

"Sh*t, my wings are damaged!" She spoke into the comms, banking towards Yellow slowly "I still have control, though!"

As she neared Yellow, the same MiG flew straight for her, missiles locking on.

"Damnit, no way I'm going to get away from this.... Need some help over here!"

Her face lit up with the delight of her first combat kill. Kate made a note of the retreating contact, writing down the direction that it was retreating towards. Noting that Angel had taken damage and was being chased Kate began a shallow dive from the side, firing a missile as soon as the lock was made though there was a slim chance it would hit from this angle though it would likely ruin the MiG pilots concentration. She punctuated it with a long burst of 30mm cannon fire before pulling in behind.

"I've got you Angel, pull hard left... Now!"

She pulled left as she spoke, anticipating the enemies reaction and getting into a firing position.

On cue, Miku slammed her stick to the left, sending the Corsair into a tight turn. A quick look back over her shoulder, and seeing the thick trail of black smoke pouring out of her damaged engine, did little to settle her.

Come on, keep it together. You can do this.

And then one of the MiGs made its first, and hopefully last mistake. It settled into a near-level path in front of her as she turned, and her target finder snapped onto it with its familiar whine. She flipped a switch on her instrument panel, and hit the missile release on her stick, sending one of her Sidewinders rocketing away from the pylon on the port side of the fuselage.

"Angel Witch, Fox Two."

Romeo's relief was palpable as Yellow sliced in behind the Corsair and decoyed the missile off of his six. As she did, he reacted rapidly, slamming the stubby ground-attack jet into a hard bank to the right, dumping lift and speed to roll hard around and reverse course. The Fulcrum on his six had broke hard to avoid the MiG-23 as Natasha had slashed across its' path, and weaved to come onto the tail of the yellow-squadron patterned Flogger. His loop bought him in on the '29's tail, and he flicked his fire selector to GUN and called out over the radio as he pulled the trigger; "Guns, guns, guns".
The floor beneath his boots vibrated as the Vulcan fired in a brief blurt of firepower, the 20mm shells stitching a line of fire across the rear quarter of the MiG. Then the contact was over, as the MiG rocketed past, and he soared upward, joining on Yellow's wing.
"Yellow, thanks for the save, that was some great flying. I owe you one".

AWACS
<<That's three more kills, two for Yellow and one for Angel Witch. Only five more, you can win this!>>

"Captain, don't you find it slightly disconcerting that we haven't gotten a single kill yet?" In response to the announcement, the WSO of the Phantom asked the pilot this question in a half-joking manner. Already preparing to lock on a target, she followed up with a request. "Let's try to get at least three kills, Cap!" For once, the pilot agreed with her.

"Well, we already have half a kill, so the rest shouldn't be that hard, even in this brick." He chuckled as he pulled the large fighter around to follow a MiG that seemed to be looking at Angel Witch's damaged Corsair. Accelerating to catch up with it, the Phantom easily caught up, despite its outdated design. The Fulcrum had already noticed them at this point, however, so it pulled away from the Corsair to evade.

"Oh no, you're not getting away that easily!" Erika exclaimed as she made a lock with one of the two QAAM's that had been equipped on the Phantom; a weapon which had great close-range tracking that would make up for the low maneuverability of the Phantom compared to its target. At the same time, Charles did his best to keep the nose pointed in the general direction of the twin-tailed fighter in order to facilitate the locking. Finally, a red point appeared on the target and a beep was heard by the two.

"Fire!" The Captain ordered, which was immediately followed in response by the Fox Three of the WSO. The missile maneuvered gracefully through the air after the plane, countering all of the pilot's attempts to evade and collided with the rear, ripping the engines to shreds. In response, the pilot ejected, as had every single other pilot destroyed by the friendly pilots this mission. The Phantom crew didn't waste any time for celebrations, immediately rolling over to pursue a second MiG. This one didn't notice them and thus didn't evade, so they only fired a SDM at this one, which easily made contact, causing the pilot to eject.

AWACS
<<Scratch two for Anemi Team.>>

The AWACS confirmed the kills before being interrupted by what seemed to be a rather important enemy communications.

Enemy Air
<< Alright team, we've played with these guys long enough. Time for Mask to make their appearance.>>

<< What about the downed pilots? Won't the enemy SAR grab them?>>

<< They're too busy with the other attacks. I'll have the Valhalla send a chopper to pick them up. Let's go.>>

<< Yes Major!>>

Just like that, the remaining three MiG's pulled away from the fight, heading back from where they came from. "Oracle, requesting permission to pursue." Border Boy requested over the radio, but he was quickly declined.

AWACS
<< Negative, Border Boy. We have need for you elsewhere. Return to->>

The transmission cut off suddenly. "Oracle, is there something wrong?"

Utter silence was the only response he received. He looked at his radar, expecting to see jamming, but found it perfectly clear. All of his allies were in the right place. Charles uneasily looked around before taking charge of the situation. "You heard him, let's RTB-"

<<Don't leave just yet. We still have some time for a little fun, A-Team.>>

Suddenly, a new voice spoke over radio, sly and overly calm in how it spoke. Looking down at the radar once again, Charles still couldn't find anything.

<<Mask Squadron, we have five minutes until their reinforcements arrive. More than enough time for us to erase these guys. Engage.>>

"Captain, evade right!" Erika yelled at him to dodge right. Briskly pulling the stick right then down, he just managed to dodge a missile. Bizarrely enough, he hadn't received any warning of it. Right after, a dark, bizarre looking jet with forward swept wings and what looked similar to a glazed over cockpit zoomed down where the missile came by. "AWACS, report!" The Erusian yelled over radio as Charles shook off the sudden trance that had overcome him when he saw the plane. No response.

"A-Team, we don't have enough time to run away, and these guys look to have better jets than ours. Just survive until the reinforcements from McNealy get here, understood?!" Charles took over as he pulled his plane into a turn. Looking around him, there was no sight of the planes. Must be below us. He remarked as he prepared evasions of the unknown, invisible like enemy.

Angel made a hard left as the first missile came at her, the warning getting louder and louder until it zoomed past. She looked back to her radar and saw the MiG was retreating.

"Thanks for the cover Meteor, would've bought the barn if it wasn't for you!" She exclaimed, slowly banking right towards Yellow. before she could continue the voices cut off.Oh Sh*t....... she mentally sighed as she looked behind her, seeing a missile coming straight for her. She rolled right and into a nosedive, a common tactic she had

"Why did they choose OLD aircraft for this event, again!?" She spat.

Scott felt a moment of elation as the MiGs began to retreat, after the flight leaders' aircraft scored a pair more kills on the hostiles, further slashing their numbers. As soon as the remainder ran for the hills, the AWACS cut off transmission before giving them the rest of their orders. Frowning, Scott checked the radio, but could find no fault. The frequency wasn't warbling or hissing with static, so jamming didn't seem likely either. Tilting the Corsair into a turn, his peripheral vision caught a flicker of movement and craned his neck, before swearing loudly and jamming the nose of the jet into a steep diving wing-over.
A sleek, dark fighter screamed through the air, hell-bent on interception with their aircraft.
"What the hell is that?" he wondered out loud, barelling for the deck as his ears rang with the CO's orders: Survive until help arrives.
"Romeo, Roger!" he replied in a terse, urgent voice as he rocked and rolled, throwing the A-7E through every evasive manoeuvre in his repertoire to try and keep the bandits off of his six, and keeping his head on a swivel trying to keep them spotted as he flew.

Kate cut a hard right as Angel made her left turn, cutting the throttle and pulling a tight, high G turn while scanning the sky, trying to get a count on the enemy. She spotted several friendlies in trouble and cut in behind the Corsair.

"I've got your six Romeo."

She tried and failed to get a missile lock on the attacker. Switching to guns and firing a short burst, she broke off for a second to check her Six and get clear before anyone could get in behind her.

"My pleasure, Romeo," Natasha responded to Scott's words of thanks. Thinking the fight was now in the hodgepodge squadron's favor, Natasha was about to go after one of the remaining Fulcrums when they suddenly broke from combat and left from whence they came. Something felt off about it, but Natasha couldn't tell what until Oracle's voice changed. It seemed someone else was in control now. As soon as the AWACS cut out, she saw unmarked black fighters closing on other members of the squadron, assumed that she had one on her tail as well, and mashed the stick downwards. A missile streaked right over her canopy and the unmarked fighter soon followed, climbing sharply. Natasha assumed the unidentified attacker would loop downward to give chase, and hit the afterburner. She had a plan that would hopefully at least make Border Boy's order to survive possible. Normal aerial maneuvers wouldn't work very long against these apparently hyper-maneuverable aircraft, so she would use abnormal aerial maneuvers.

Screaming down towards the ocean at almost full speed, Natasha depended on the attacker to not get a lock until after she had reached the ocean. Her gamble paid off and she pulled up hard at the last second, flying just above the ocean and kicking up a plume of water behind her. She was shaken by a missile exploding in the water behind her, but her aircraft was unharmed. She banked in a shallow right curve to avoid clipping the water and flew back towards the rest of the squadron. As she approached, she saw the swept-wing aircraft that had been pursuing her streak overhead, slowing down to match her speed just above her and then decreasing altitude. Natasha quickly changed direction to a left bank and cut airspeed, preventing the aggressor from pancaking her into the water. The craft pulled up and away, perhaps to make another pass. Natasha decided to stick close to the water directly underneath the rest of her squadron, as at least it would be harder for the enemy to hit her.