[b][i]Mykhailo Martinez[/i][/b]

"Understood, Sir," Mykhailo stayed calm and let go of the fact that [i]a foe got away[/i]; he had a commanding officer to protect. Turning his plane to escort Scott and Kat's damaged aircraft, he kept an eye out for any enemy reinforcments, before muttering, "Where did it go so wrong?"

Last-minute transfers out of the squadron, then Pilot Sokolov being taken out by the enemy being more heavily-armed and competent than was expected. Defeat had been snatched from the jaws of victory, then the reverse happened before it was too late. And of course, he had to respect the foe's skill; the one who got away must have had something to fight for.

Mykhailo grit his teeth; [i]so did he[/i].

The mission was ending; what would have been one grand, sweeping, operation had turned into a battle of attrition - He hated it in video games, he knew he'd hate it in real life. 

He glanced at Scott and Kat as their plane crash-landed onto the Luqa runaway, then received his orders from Skywatch to see his order to completion; good. Circling back to the convoy, Mykhailo kept guarding it until it was five miles to the coast as instructed, all the while making plans to get a bath, eat, grieve Sokolov in silence, and ponder how to act as a coherent whole with Fuka, Valkyrie, and Aurélie (or was it Amélie?), all three of whom he had annoyed in some form.

[i]Good job, Mykhailo,[/i] he thought to himself with a bite of sarcasm. [i]You demonstrated you were good at your job in a way Fuka cannot deny, but at what cost? Sokolov dead at a time when your bridges with the others are burnt or smoldering. You're cut off from the others and its your own damn fault.[/i]

He prided himself on letting go; he should. But he had to ask, "Skywatch; who will retreive Pilot Sokolov's remains, if there are any?"

[@Damo021][@Kensai][@Smike][@Rhona W]