[center][h3]LTJG ROY KILMER, CALLSIGN [color=ff4136]"COMMIE"[/color][/h3][/center]
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By the time he had gotten there, even at what he called a "spirited burn" and what Boeing called "beyond recommended thrust, what's your goddamn problem", the radar picture had cleaned up save for a few shavings off of the Secutor and the wreck of his erstwhile Big Game— ceded to Rhino by little more than necessity. It stung the Minnesotan a little, sure, but sometimes things didn't shake out perfectly. He was the first to admit that, because if he had his way, all he'd ever be doing was going after the Coalition's newest high-spec toys. It'd certainly prove the superiority of UEE Piloting... and probably be a wasted effort, long-term. Wars were won in the bigger picture in the real world.

Really, it was a win enough that everyone from the 7th was coming home from Phase 1, more or less unscathed atop that— save maybe Hex, but she was the sniper here. Vision from one end of the board to the other was her thing. He'd have to find out once they were all back on the Roanoke.[color=ff4136]<<Rhino, Commie: Copy kill on Priority Target. We'll form an element and handle escort. Maintaining corner speed.>>[/color]

As the heat of combat left his blood, the inversely clinical tone of his calls began to fade with it, replaced by something a touch more languid— but only just. He wouldn't slip all the way back into the upper midwestern until he was out of the coffin, even if he'd tried. As the three mechs changed bearing, the lightest of them glanced back at the Venator.

[color=ff4136]<<I hear the sentiment, Rookie, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass.>> [/color]

After that, it was largely back to whatever necessary chatter the ride back demanded from him, be it verifying contacts or working with Rhino to gut intercept attempts before they could start. In any event, their course wouldn't stray, no matter how much even Commie loved getting into close-in brawls. His beam saber had been a real workhorse already, anyway.