Let's just say that Flemma was not really impressed.
Despite the more straightforward demeanor, the introduction still carried a strange corporate feel to it. Mainly due to the weird sense of urgency that the commander was trying to paint this as. And that the commander was well-ay-okay with throwing these bunch of recruits, many of whom bore signs of a unique background, likely not in any ways familiar with security work and such, into combat with barely any training, experience or hell even knowing each other. And he was phrasing this as some sort of test? This is a job. They were offered this position, they don't need to prove they are qualified. Already, the attitude was off-putting to the man, but he would see how that plays out. As far as he was concerned, this was a relatively simple mission. Relatively
"Yeah, this guy has a point." Upon hearing the slim-looking man, the swordsman spoke up frankly. "What do you want us to do with her? Make her pay is vagueness defined. We need better details than that."
And to think this was an elite security unit.
'Whatever' Flemma too followed the new agents into the locker room to prepare himself. He only needed to walk for a couple of blocks before a locker automatically sense his arrival and swung open for him. Inside was just like Nevyn's assistant Alayna said: a suit which he wouldn't use, an Anima which he also already have, a PDA which seemed quite new-generation comparing to what he used like fourteen years ago or so, a headset of similar quality and a holobadge. He only took out the latter three items, meanwhile putting his other stuffs away, and closed the locker. What remained on him for deployment were his belt pockets containing some essentials, the work items, and most importantly his long sword with a weird looking handle hanging in his back.
The three items were a little jumbled together, and Flemma only had one hand to work with, so he simply just carried that whole mess of technology with him to the vehicle. Once he sat down inside next to the kid that spoke up earlier would he begin to untangle the whole thing. It was a little awkward, but his fingers worked well with one another to compensate for the lack of the other arm. After untangling the holobadge, he hooked it on his belt. As for the other two devices...let's just say it made him fumble a bit with it.
"Umm, do you know how to use this?" Flemma looked over to the black-haired man, the two devices in his hands as he said. "I'm a little tech-illiterate."
Locations: Sorian Park Interactions: Charlotte @princess, Devan @Prosaic
John expected a much more volatile response from that guy, but his courage only extended so far as to not having a knife pointing at his neck. Whether or not that was just a pathetic display of character, or a reasonable response to an unexpected psychotic action was up to debate. John was glad that he, along with these vulturous goons, was leaving the drama scene. It was a little unfortunate that along with it, the girl in pajama too was spooked and fled. She looked fun to talk to.
As for Lorenzo, who was left to confront who seemed to be the very angry (and also very edgy) organizer, he was quick to flee to someone for help. As much as John sympathized with the humiliation he had to endure the previous night, it wasn't necessarily a good look that he ran for help so quickly. He wished the Duke would've stood his grounds more. It was something that the doctor himself learned, being a man of peasantry breaking into the upper social classes. He had always been a soft kid who avoided confrontation, who wanted everyone to live together in harmony, who treated everyone with hospitality, but hospitality would only get you so far as the northern mountains. Sometimes, you have to be more aggressive in face of the vultures.
Glancing to his right was Charlotte, along with a fellow he hadn't met. Apparently, she knew him, so that's good. She also was gesturing both he and John to finally move away from this incident completely, now that the guy with the cane decided to let the Duke go. The doctor had no hesitation in doing so. It was not a fun event, not for the already irritated John, but he figured it was much worse for Charlotte, whom was perhaps the victim of so much humiliation and stress in the last few days. He couldn't help but catch up to her once she distanced away from the whole situation.
"I'm sorry that had to happen." John said softly as soon as he got her attention. "How are you feeling right now?"
Remembering the tears streaking down her exhausted face earlier, he offered his handkerchief if she wanted it. Or if she wanted some food, she could also have some of his waffles, which he was still holding in his other hand. But he also remembered that she wanted a peaceful time with Lorenzo, have some quality tea with him and her friends.
"Do you want to check up on your father?" He said. "We can still have tea together."
He had his alarms set in case, but he was already wide awake by the time it sounded. Unlike many of his to-be-met members, he was already prepared for this trip. His belongings already packed, not that there were much to begin with, his teeth brushed, his body showered, his breakfast ready the night before, and most importantly, his weapon well-sharpened. Today was the big day.
Flemma took a brief glance at his watch. He still had quite a bit of time before the first train arrived at his nearest station, so he took this time to get himself a smoke, knowing that the moment he hopped on that train, it would be a no-go until he reached the tower, hell even after it too knowing Soma. He reached out for the pack in his lime-green jacket hanging on the wall, opened it and singled out a cigarette by firmly holding down the rest with his thumb. He jerked his arm upward, shooting the cigarette up in the air before catching it elegantly with the same hand, inbetween his middle finger and the cigarette pack. After placing it inbetween his teeth and put away the pack, he grabbed his sword lying on the table in its scabbard, pointing the handle at the tip, letting a stream of purplish flame ignite the cigarette. His last moment of total freedom, he should enjoy it.
Once the cigarette was finished, he promptly snuffed out the flames and tossed it into the bin. With that behind him, he grabbed everything he needed, making sure his travel passes were there, and made his way to the nearest train station. It would take a couple line transfer, but he should be transported right through the heart of the 2nd Pillar. The train would stop right by his destination as well, so no need for fancy GPS nonsense to guide his way there.
One of the reasons Flemma was prepared for this trip was that they reached out to him quite early on. Not a two-day notice, but rather almost two weeks. He was initially quite reluctant to be returning, even under the promise of a comfy quality of life. That was actually exactly what those Solitas recruiters said to him many so years ago. 'Work for us, we're like a family. We will provide for you'. And what do you know. So he wasn't exactly smitten with this idea. Sure, he was living in a tiny cabin in the mountains, living each day by hunting and trading with the nearby villages, but there's a certain sense of freedom and peace that he craved after toiling for so long and so much in the fast lanes of Fortuna. It was only when the guy brought up a certain benefit would the former 'gladiator' be convinced to be back in this life.
What better ways to be welcomed back to city-life than the cheerfully depressing sight of advertisement. Of all sorts. From the most fanciest vehicles to the most mundane of things like a water bottle. Everything with a fancy looking price tag and a tinsy bit of discount to make it look cheaper than it practically is. Sandwiching the transit map above the train door were two ads. Stepping out of the train you had a decent chance to be harassed by those sales officials. On the buildings in the distances were ads. It was everywhere, and Flemma'd be lucky to find a holographic screen that wasn't one of those thirsty corporate products. He did eventually find one with a less depressing sight: the murder of 36 individuals in an attack the day before.
The former FAC fighter stopped in the stream of commuters after exiting his last train to check out the news. Ignoring the funny notion that 36 people dying would just taint the reputation of the area, the fact that this was some political assassination was an interesting detail. It wasn't rare or anything, even back when he was still around, but it coincided with the mentioning that criminal activities were rising throughout the 2nd Pillar, indicating something big was going on in the background. He suspected it would probably just die down after a couple of months of investigations and back-and-forth condemnations but who knows. For sure though, he would be going in during the hot period, and he'd be curious to what he'd end up doing with these individuals.
Flemma arrived at the Tower a few minutes earlier than expected. So he waited a bit outside before entering just before the designated time, guided by security to the proper elevator. His arrival would be within seconds before the clock hits 10 AM, accompanied by a rather casual mischievous wave.
"Hello hello. How precise would you rate my punctuality?" The one-armed individual happily greeted the two as he approached the conference area, as well as whoever was around.
"Roger." Cuong answered the order from Noel, ending the transmission before a grumble escaped his lips. "Alright, we heard him."
"An NA user with a fancy spear, I wonder who that could be." The Russian sitting behind the pilot gave a grinned remark. These NAs are the Chinese's wet dreams. There were no going anywhere in the military circles without hearing one of these guy's names. And given these people's tendencies to go showing off who they were and their accomplishment, Nikolay was fairly confident that they would be able to spot him fairly quickly. Chances are he'd freely give away his position very soon with his Noble Arms power, given that the battlefield had died down to the point of literally no sights of gunfire was found. His comrades, however, wasn't exactly thrilled.
"Spotting a tiny tiny pixel and then rocketing him blind?" One pilot complained. "Does the guy know we're like a thousand meters in the air?"
"I mean, I doubt little kids know that we track machines, not humans." Another responded. "We can descend low enough for visual identification. It's not too big of a deal"
"You sure? If he wears what he does in those posters, then it might be more difficult to verify." A female voice joined. Unlike the vast majority of those chuuni Noble Arms, this guy was at least somewhat practical with his outfit. The brown and black outfit made him blend in with the earth, and while it might not be difficult to find him on the ground, when he's simply a small dot from above, it would prove quite difficult.
"Not to mention his potential powers as well. Nope, I am NOT getting down there." The first pilot said. However, considering that they might want to spot the guy before he did any shenanigans to the ground Filipino troops, it seemed like that was just inevitable.
"Well we wanna get low anyway. There's no pleasantries around anymore, so might as well get the front row seat for the opera." Cuong, now the acting commander of Lotus, overrided the pilots' grumbling. "I will do the visual ID. You can standby at a safe distance."
"Sure." The pilots simply responded along the lines, complying without much resistance. Their skepticism temporarily suppressed by their confidence in their skills and adherence to their sense of duty. As the other SU-30s descended and levelled off, the one lone aircraft continued its descent, getting dangerously close to ground fire range, the roar of engine alerted anyone close to it.
"Lower. I still can't see shit." Nikolay demanded, but his co-pilot wouldn't go any further and levelled the plane off.
"I know you can, Nikolay." Cuong said. "Any lower than this and you're just asking for the daring devil."
"I mean the dude wants concussive force right? What better concussion than a supersonic jet flyby?" Nikolay reasoned dryly, but the tone was pretty clear. However, Cuong was not impressed.
"If that kid hears this, he'd think that's a good idea and tell us to do it for real." He said. "Enough screwing around, let's look for the guy."
It didn't take them long. Upon flying by the hills and into the beach area, the target was not that hard to spot. Tall, brown outfit, brandishing a spear. It's got to be him. Just in time for the update request from Noel.
"Well, he's right on the beach at sector D1, if you haven't spotted him already." The Vietnamese pilot responded, just as the earth began to roar and shake. Instead of turning towards Huo Ren position and attacking him as ordered, the jet simply perked up and flew away, rejoining their squadron in the air. Perhaps attacking that carrier over there might have been a better plan than this guy.
A long sword relative to the user himself, this strange unregistered Anima is only special for its handle. From its hilt is where the Anima can establish that powerful bridge between the physical plane and the aetherial one, drawing immense aether energy stream that could then be funnelled into a small hole, shooting off purplish flames there. While it seemed intuitive to use, a normal blade on one side and a flamethrower on the other, since all that aetherial energy was rushed into a small point, the kickback force would be strong, and thus difficult for a user to hold it like a flamethrower, especially with a sharp blade behind them. That's where some of the resourcefulness of the user is required, and for Flemma, he mostly utilized this weird quirk of the weapon as a way of gaining superior mobility/strength over his opponents, thus creating a rather unique sword fighting style to be fared.
Personality Being one of the more mysterious members of Delta Security Division, Flemma mostly kept things to himself, very careful not to reveal too much information about himself, and preferred to spend his time alone. However, this was not really evident in conversations, since he can be chatty, laid-back and humorous. He tends to have a rather 'big-brother' attitude towards his colleagues, even if they are much older than he is, often looking out for them, albeit in a rather hands-off manner.
Alignment Neutral Good
Backstory Little is known about Floyd's early life, but he was presumed to have grown up from the 6th Pillar, judging from his employment as a handler for the Solitas Corporation, who tended to employ slum dwellers. His employment responsibilities were stated to be protecting their assets, and sometimes he was assigned to that role when criminal activities surge. However, in peacetime, a more lucrative income from these bodyguards were as combat entertainers, or 'Gladiators' as titled by Fortuna Anima Championship (FAC) - a 'no-barred holds' styled combat tournament entered by Anima users only (with some rare exceptions). Fighters are often employed by large corporations as a form of informal betting system, and there are very few rules regarding the fights or tournament layout or even refereeing, just as long as the fighters don't die and provide great entertainment for their audience.
His Anima at the time was a dual dagger with gravitational pull capabilities. As an FAC gladiator, Floyd, or Flemma as he would soon be nicknamed and commonly addressed by, was a relatively decent fighter, scoring twice more wins than losses, and was known for having a very imitative fighting style. After several years competing in the FAC, however, he abruptly disappeared. Solitas' official statement regarding this was that there was a breach of contract and that his employment was terminated as a result. There were some conspiracies regarding this, mostly unsubstantiated and soon forgotten in the fast-lanes of Fortuna. Regardless, he disappeared and no one could get a hold of where exactly he was or what he was doing.
Years later, confusions arose after the presence and subsequent deaths of several notorious hitmen belonging to various criminal syndicates in Fortuna. There were immediate rumours that the killer had been the former FAC gladiator. Their bodies were clean enough to rule out the possibility of a wild creature, and not many living in this remote area would be strong or influential enough to guarantee a visit from these professional killers. And while the truth would not come out for a long time, it was indeed Flemma who was both a target and the one to have locked these handlers' criminal archive forever. He would later be discovered in hermit in the Silva mountains, very much changed from his FAC days a decade ago. He wielded an unregistered Anima in the form of a propulsive long sword, his outfit a little bit outdated, and most notably, his right hand was gone all the way to his elbow, sparking some speculations to what had happened. He was invited to the δ Division of the IXth Security Unit, joining under undisclosed terms.
Additional information Flemma is a smoker, using his sword's unique gimmick as a lighter. He also refuses to use prosthesis for his right arm for mysterious reasons, preferring to not only live but also fight with only one arm.
"I'm doing...wonderful, thanks for asking." John smiled brightly, concealing his exhaustion from last night and the irritation this morning that still lingered. He was in the presence of some pleasant people, so he wouldn't want that to sour the conversation. However, he'd not enjoy this for long though, as there was a guy, a blonde guy, who were perhaps a little too impatient for the waffles. To be fair, John and those three were mulling around the table, blockading the line, so it was partially his fault too.
"Yeah we should move. People want their share too." He responded to Charlotte's request, but that was pretty much the last cordial thing to happen in this waffle table. From this point on, it would be chaos.
“NO MORE! The only fool that’ll be in the damned newspaper is you, the waffle bitch, the fucker in the green, yes you! And your whore of daughter!”
"Sorry..." John hung his head low as he nudged Lorenzo and the girl in pajamas. "Come on, let's just move."
“The ‘Whore of Veirmont’ is bound to surpass her father and hop on every single Alidasht-shezzy-prince cock, you rat-faced son of a bitch!”
Ok, that was totally unnecessary. They were already moving. Why would this guy find the need to insult the two of them? If they wanted the waffle, they could just go around him now. Or heck, just ask cordially, like a normal human being would.
Unsurprisingly, Charlotte already sprung up in anger. The chaos continued to escalate, even as she pulled John and the other girl out of harm's way, as the patron get thrown into the waffle table, not exactly sure because Lorenzo shoved him or he just threw himself into the table by accident, but regardless the waffles were ruined, but the hyenas were still swarming those fallen waffles.
Like, what the fuck?
He gets that blocking the line was a rude behavior, but their behavior were still unacceptable. Calling someone a whore, a murderer was just heartless. It was too much for Charlotte, and he wouldn't blame her. And not only that, it's fucking stupid. In some alternate reality, the guy could just say nicely that the four of them were blocking the path, could he get some waffles, and they'd comply unconditionally. It's insanely unnecessary, and yet, he wasn't surprised. This was the Caesonia he knew. The Caesonia with that crab mentality of pulling anyone with a modicum chances of success through the mud. The Caesonia that would berate literally anyone on the flimsiest of excuses. A rumour, a class status, a lifestyle choice, whatever doesn't matter. All to satisfy an empty husk with no sense of empathy.
His irritation did not help John in this case. He was ticked earlier, and after seeing what happened, he decided to step forward to the blonde guy who were trying to get up from the waffle table.
"Are you alright?" John showed concerned for that man, lending a hand for him to get up. But the guy slapped his hands away instead, refusing to see senses.
"How fucking dare you?! You're lucky I haven't beaten you to a pulp already." He was already back on his feet and angrily shouted at the doctor.
"Look, we did ruin your breakfast. It's our fault." He was surprisingly cordial before the rage of this man. However, his expression didn't necessarily read guilt nor apologetic either. His voice was neutral. "Look, I took quite a few waffles. You can have a few of them for compensation. Which one would you like?"
"You motherf-" That only seemed to enrage the guy even more. "Who do you think you are to put terms to me, huh?! You are no saint! You ruined this for us too along with those cunts! Give me that plate and I might let you get away with it!" With that, he lunged at the doctor, or rather the waffle plate in his hand. However, the plate was quickly swapped to the other hand, and what remained was a dinner knife, one just as sharp and deadly.
John swung his arms up, taking advantage of the patron not prepared for a doormat like this green fellow to actually respond, putting the knife pressing right on his throat. All the while, John's expression did not change. "I said..." Not even his voice. "Which one would you like?" He presented the waffle plate to the patron, who was barely able to glance down with a knife on the throat.
"Would you like some sauce with it too?" The doctor calmly and cordially asked with a casual smile, at the same time as he pressed the knife harder onto the man's throat, moving it just slightly. The patron could feel the knife digging into his skin, and that was enough to strip down all the man in him.
"N-N-No...thank you!" The patron immediately pulled back and ran away from the scene. John gave a rather oblivious look of surprise before turning to the patrons who were salvaging the waffles on the ground.
"Feel free to take one. It's not good to eat dirt." He said, all the while still holding that dinner knife, albeit non-threateningly. None of them were having it, they just backed away.
For a long long time that is '30 minutes ago', the good Varian doctor was in a state of personal hell, or 'heck' he would call it. He was sleepy. He found himself dozing off on his arms multiple times, only to jolt back up when that innate sense of danger kicked in that told him he'd smash his face somewhere. Keeping himself busy was no excuse anymore, the only task there was waiting for Thea. He'd read books on normal days, but each line of text was a cradle, each chapter a lullaby. He'd collapse before he even knew it. Screw hellfire, he'd rather burn for a good night's sleep.
The knock on the door finally came, and John's response had never been faster. He wanted not just to get this over with and he could occupy himself outside, but that it had also been a while since he did this checkup with her. However, it wasn't Thea. It was the Smithwood servant he sent earlier instead, along with another similarly dressed individual, presumably also a servant for the Smithwoods. Upon seeing the doctor's tired face emerge from behind the door, both ladies glanced at each other nervously.
"Dr. Williamson?" John merely nodded this time. "...We're sorry but your appointment with Lady Thea would have to be postponed."
...
"...Will have to what?" His voice was rather neutral. Both servants weren't sure if he was being rhetorical or not. The servant that spoke up, the same one he sent to Thea, looked over to the other one, expecting something.
"S-She said you need not worry about her, and that she'll come to you later." The other servant stuttered. Both of them could hear the gust of air blowing after that statement. This just meant 'never', doesn't it?
"Uhh, Dr. Williamson?" One of the servant called out to John, waving her hands in front of the doctor after a rather lengthy silence. "Are you alright? Do you have any questions for us?"
His eyes nearly rolled out of his head before his usual casual friendliness that both the servants came to knew him for returned. "I'm alright, thank you. I have a couple of questions, actually." Both servants nodded. "You two saw Thea earlier. What does she look like?"
"What does she look like?" They pondered the question. Considering it was from a doctor, "She was...unsteady, one would say. She almost fell." the servant replied.
"Does she look exhausted?"
"I'm not sure, I don't think so. She is still going around by herself."
John gave yet another sigh. "Hmm, okay. One last question." His voice was still quite amicable. "Do you see anything on her arms and legs?"
"Umm...no?" The servants replied in confusion. "Why do you need to know that?"
"Oh good. Don't worry about it~. I just wanna make sure she won't be DEAD in the next few days." The doctor replied with a very appreciative smile on his face. "Thank you you two, have a great rest of your day."
The door was then slammed shut. Well, so at least she'll be fine for now. But that still did not alleviate John's annoyance much. In a way, it's kinda sad. Through some insider's information, he knew a little bit of her situation. And he'd be honest, it's fucked up. Not even just a lost father, but a claustrophobic and molded family situation. Give anyone a poor and homeless childhood anytime, but not a dysfunctional one. Now her father's gone, her mother's been focusing on her own happiness, her brother...well who knows what her brother had been up to. And a fiance that if he were to guess out of so many typical stories, she didn't get to pick. Who was genuinely there for her really?
John pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. He was too tired to be mulling over this nonsense. He wanted to get out for once and actually get to enjoy things for a bit. It's a beautiful day, and he's in one of the best cities of Caesonia. And thus he got himself dressed, though not too differently from what he wore at the ball the day before just with different colors. A man always on duty, like usual.
The morning newspapers were full of nonsense, but the events section does give quite a bit of activities for him to decide. As much as the interesting stuffs like the Self-Defense basics or the Hat Shop, the doctor was hungry. And that wouldn't sit. He'd have something in his stomach and no one would stop him. 'Pancakes at the Park.' Which is the reason why he didn't hesitate when he read that bullet point. With only half an hour left for this pancake event, he went straight for the waiting line, ignoring everyone if they weren't also waiting for their turn.
"Ah yes, YES." Like a couple of individuals around here, John wasn't the only one excited for the waffles. He didn't even bother sitting down or finding a seat, but would have his ticket back to heaven as he walked. Soon, some colors returned to his face and irritations began to evaporate. It was then that he began to recognize some of the park-goers here. It was very much difficult not to.
"Hello again, Duke Vikena." John gave the duke a two-fingered salute rather than the bow that he would to other nobles. "Food really does blind us eh?" He said, jabbing subtly and lightheartedly at both the duke and himself, who were until a moment ago were quite hypnotized. "Nice to see you, Lady Charlotte. You as well, miss."
Appearance: Cuong (left, black-haired and black-eyed), Nikolay(right, blonde and silver-eyed)
Name: Cuong Hoang Van (Sometimes referred as Hoang Van Cuong), Nikolay Phan (old surname: Morozov)
Age: Cuong - 26, Nikolay - 28
Nationality: Vietnamese and Russian-Vietnamese respectively
Noble Arm Name & Appearance: N/A
Misc Abilities: - Fighter Aces: Both these men are exceptional pilots in their own rights, knowing their craft inside-out. They are capable of performing seemingly impossible acrobatics, almost as if they possess a Noble Arms user in the cockpit. - Strong Endurance: They are trained in enduring intense high-g, as well as experienced combatants themselves. They can take long duration flights as well as performing sharp aerial maneuvers easily. They won't tank a bullet to their chest, but in the air, don't expect them to stop zipping around anytime soon. - Good Situational Awareness, Teamwork, Concise Communication, Mathematical Skills: As expected of any air force pilot.
Personality (Cuong): A mature and level-headed member of the squadron, Cuong is almost zen-like in most scenarios. Even in the most stressful combat scenario, he would still keep his composure, often expressing dry disregards or casual jokes at the danger he found himself in. To many from the outside, he looks like a serious and dutiful soldier, quietly plucking away at his assignments. But the reality is he is a relatively inoffensive person, not making too much noises, often letting others, most likely his more boisterous co-pilot Nikolay, to take the lead, and is actually quite chill and chatty if you open up to him. He likes some good ol' simplicity: good food, good sleep, good laughter and quality peacetime.
*Likes: Flying, eating, quietness, overall just peaceful times
*Dislikes: Senseless violence, war, bad food, overall dickish behaviors idk
Fears: Loss of family, friends, his comrade Nikolay, etc.
Personality (Nikolay): In contrast to his peaceful co-pilot Cuong, Nikolay is noticeably louder and more hotheaded. He lives more for the thrills of life. He lives on unpredictability and likes to wager on things, often using real money too, which did get him into trouble with the authority a couple of times. In combat, he enjoys a dangerous fight, preferring more aggressive approaches in fights. However, and perhaps thanks to the more mediating presence of his co-pilot, he knew to restrain himself from going too far. If you can tolerate this side of him, he's quite friendly. And if you think the war humor that his comrade Cuong engages it might be a little too much, oh boy...
He does have a bit of a sore spot if you mention his surname Morozov, however; something he'd casually remind you not to mention in his face ever again.
*Likes: Flying, gambling, high thrill activities, strategy games.
*Dislikes: The typical stuffs like above. Also, don't mention his extended family.
Fears: Ditto
Bio:
The ASEAN war did not begin with a sudden invasion. The Chinese have been harassing the Vietnamese borders decades before, launching increasing intensity and blatant artillery strikes upon strategic locations, but villages were either misidentified or deliberately targeted. Cuong's father was one early victims to these bombardments, perishing in his bedroom at night when the shell collapses the house. His mother and he, at 12 years old, managed to survive the house collapse, but fearing further attacks by the Chinese, they moved inland and settled in Hanoi near an airbase, which kindled Cuong's young interest in aviation.
The tragedy left the family in a shaky situation. His father had been the family's breadwinner, and losing him (along with his entire fortune) meant Cuong had to make ends meet working side-jobs at the same time as he attend schools. He struggled at both, but the experience hardened him as a person. He managed to finish high school but was unable to continue his education onto university, and thus was conscripted when he was 18. He was a sharp kid, combined with his interest and knowledge in aircraft from his time near the airbase, he enlisted in the Vietnam People's Air Force (VPAF) 6 months later. He proved his prowess as a trainee and graduated among the top of his class. At this point in his life, he never drove a car or motorcycle in his life, going from riding a dusty bicycle directly to operating a modernized multirole Russian SU-30MK2, significantly improved by the Paragon of Science's technology. There, he met Lieutenant Nikolay Phan, his copilot. Despite the contrast between the characters, the two men worked together well along with their new squadron.
Nikolay's grandfather was a Soviet military advisor to the Vietnamese military during the Indochina/Vietnam War period, and for their service, upon retirement (along with the collapse of the Soviet Union), they immigrated to Vietnam with their immediate family. His father married a Vietnamese woman and subsequently had Nikolay. He bore a lot of traits from his father, including his surname despite insistence by the mother.
His childhood was...middling. While he lived comfortable life with a mother who tried her best to raise him, his father was fairly absent and quite abusive. His parent argued a lot, but tended to keep the argument away from their young kid. He was often left to his own devices, and would often get bored and lonely. His grades were barely average, and his foreign appearance often got him bullied in schools, and so he'd often hang out with gangs, smoke and gamble - some big no-noes in schools. He'd find himself expelled when he was in high school and sent to military schools.
Political turmoil escalated, and the threats of China were causing an increasing rift between the two sides of the family. The mother's side supportive of Vietnamese resistance, while the father's side supporting China and Russia. Things eventually erupted with Russian's Crimean crisis, with the Morozov family in Vietnam cutting contact with their foreign extended family. The only reason Nikolay's father did not sign a divorce was due to the social stigma associated with such case. But in any cases, they were separated. Nikolay, being 20 at the time, angrily disowned his father and changed his family name to his mother's, Phan, in recognition of her efforts in raising him.
While Nikolay's gambling tendency did not fully go away, military life did knock it down a couple pegs. He would volunteer for flight training in the VPAF, training 4 years in the trainer then transferred to the SU-22 in an airbase near the border to deal with the Chinese border skirmish. He had a surprisingly solid track record during these times, and was thus authorized to transfer to the 930th 'Lotus' Fighter Bomber Squadron, serving as co-pilot to a promising talent, Senior Lieutenant Hoang Van Cuong.
Chinese build-up of military might was of no surprises to the Vietnamese, who anticipated the invasion threat long before the world started noticing. So when the Chinese began their invasion in earnest (11 months before the Philippine's invasion), they were surprised to meet a strong Vietnamese resistance. Chinese forces often relied on numerical superiority, even in the air, and this proved to be a juicy experience for the air forces. They often found themselves in excellent attack position due to lack of enemy reconnaissance. Cuong and Nikolay's first victory came only 2 months in, as Lotus Squadron scrambled to intercept the threat of a Hanoi bombing run. They cleverly used cloud cover to mask their approach. As they emerged into view, Chinese jets were caught off-guard and were shot down in great numbers. 4 strategic bombers were lost that day, along with 5 escorts to no losses for the SU-30s, forcing the rest of the squadrons to turn back around.
The Chinese would reattempt more bombing attacks, with escort jets carrying their own Arms Master to help shoot down the Vietnamese jets. But the repeated hit-and-run 'insurgency' tactics by the VPAF didn't make them effective. Even in dogfights, these well-trained pilots proved to be a tough match for the Chinese air force. By the 9th month of the invasion, the numerically superior Chinese army failed to secure air superiority over the Vietnamese battlefield, and the invasion quickly stalled.
As for Lotus Squadron, they went on to achieve 5 more aerial victories, destroying over 50 Chinese aircrafts and in the process solidifying their fearsome reputation. Cuong and Nikolay's craft downed 10 themselves, signifying each downed aircraft a small pink lotus at the front of their SU-30. Since the invasion stalled and the threat of Chinese using the Philippines as a launching pad into central Vietnam, high command dispatched the 930th Squadron to aid the Filipinos, whose air defense are unprepared for the invasion.
*Current Goal: Helping the Filipinos thwart Chinese aggression.
Military or Civilian Rank: Cuong - Senior Lieutenant, Nikolay - Lieutenant
Description: Lotus Squadron, officially the 930th Fighter-Bomber Squadron, is a unit in the Vietnam's People's Air Force. It is one of many units formed in response to the rise of China's militarism and threat of attack. Consisting of 8 SU-30MK2, improved with Paragons of Science's witchcraft technology, its armaments (missiles, bombs, etc.) much lighter and smaller, allowing the aircraft to triple its normal load capacity, meanwhile enhancing the maneuvrability of both the plane and its missiles. The squadron is distinguishable by its azure paint coating, along with pink lotus emblems on their aircraft's tails.
Members of Lotus Squadron are noticeably well-trained, highly capable fighter pilots. Unlike expendable ground forces, air force pilots and aircraft are not easily replaceable, as such these men and women received top notch training, not just in individual skills but also team coordination and various tactical doctrines. The versatility in both crew training and aircraft capabilities means the squadron would often be assigned a variety of missions and sent to important frontiers, including helping foreign allies with their aerial situations.
During the Chinese invasion of Vietnam, the squadron was deployed in the northern frontier, tasked with denying Chinese air superiority. The squadron's superior pilots, combined with proper battle doctrine, Chinese over-reliance on their Arms Masters, allowed them to score numerous victories in the air. As the invasion began to stalemate, high command decided to pull out Lotus squadron to be applied to more important pressure point in the ASEAN theatre, such as the invasion of the Philippines. As of their transfer, they were credited with 6 aerial victories, over 50 Chinese aircraft shot down. Qingshe's upgrade
Armament: Missiles have been given dual Active-homing and Semi-active-homing capabilities. A trifeca of infrared, visual locks and onboard missile radar used in tandem work to counter various forms of interference. Minor AI helps missiles differentiate targets. Of special note, the visual lock has been upgraded with the capacity to recognize, snapshot and pursue a single biological target, like an individual person, allowing enemy Arms Masters -for example- to be targeted directly; though, this is not as accurate or protected against interference. (Blueprints provided.)
Structure: D30 variant non-newtonian kinetic armor, layered under the surface of the main body. Effective against most plane-mounted cannons and non-missile AA. Also rated against physical impacts/stress in general. No use typically against mundane elemental/exotic effects. Doesn't shield areas like the flaps, windshield and thrusters. (Blueprints provided).
Power: Liquid fuel system completely chucked and replaced with electrical. The jets are now off-brand Teslas with high-efficiency solar panels on either side of the spine. Internal battery good for 12 hours of high/active combat performance and can be recharged at coasting/traveling speeds or less. OPL has been primarily utilized here to lower the weight of the new system and protect against EMP attacks. Also allows the recharging to occur at night, generating electricity in the absence of other sources. (Blueprints provided.)
Qingshe can be assumed to provide replacement ammunition or repairs to modified sections between battles/missions where feasible until a line of resupply can be attained from Vietnam now replicating those improvements.
In response to the daring attack of the first four SU-30s, Chinese escort jets began dispersing to intercept the sudden intruders to the skies they thought was rightfully theirs. So caught aback by this sudden attack that the squadron neglected the presence of another four, all of whom very happy to exploit this mistake. Having barely any escorts around to contest the other predators, the Vietnamese jets darted through the clouds and pounced on the hapless bombers from below, bursting four into flames in seconds. Just like their squadron leader, they climbed above the Chinese formation before sweeping right back down on their preys. Three aircraft briefly broke away after their missile launch to avoid fire, but the one at the head of the formation saw their opportunity, fearlessly charged into the midst of the formation, weaving inbetween the bombers, unleashing volleys of machine gun fires onto their targets. The two gentlemen in the cockpits were Lotus 4, Cuong and Nikolay, commandeered their battle-hardened craft to continue its relentless assault. On its fuselage, ten lotus decals lined just beneath the cockpit warned enemy aviators of the fate that befell their counterparts.
Another bomber turned into a shooting star, as Cuong and Nikolay finally broke off from the bomber squadron, more to avoid the falling wreckage than enemy fire. However, the steak were running out, and the ungracious host seemed to dislike the guest's rapacious appetite, so the bombers began to turn around. Whether or not they wanted to do another bombing run or have had enough of eating missiles for lunch, the Chinese escort jets were back to save their comrades and chase away the squadron that was causing them this much pain.
"Heads up you four, these birds are coming back." The voice of Captain Tuan over the comm warned of their impending threat. "They didn't have their food, so they're pretty mad right now."
"Roger, should we retreat or engage?" Said Cuong.
"Wellll, we're here to bail our poor friends out, so we can't really let them have the skies." The captain replied.
"Say no more captain." He was just fine with that. "Comrades, break. Don't pick the same target, but feel free to call if you need any help."
The three jets accompanying Lotus 4 each gave their own affirmative response before pitching away from one another. The other four in the first group also did the same. Despite still being outnumbered, both men had no qualm or even were ecstatic for this fight. Bushwhacking the Chinese was age-old for the Vietnamese, but the fierce, fast-paced dogfight felt much better. In this new era of Arms Masters, a kid could best the most veteran of combat soldiers. No matter how many years one could train, people who were either born to manifest their NA or were among the super rich could just purchase one and overpower you. It's an ultimate game of luck, in the scale of billions. The blue skies is the only few place where that didn't matter as much. There is no purchasing or born into piloting a plane, let alone fight toe to toe with others in them. You have to put in the work, no matter who you are. And everybody falls out of it just the same way.
"Incoming hostile." Cuong announced.
"They look eager." Nikolay raised his eyebrows as he noticed how fast the jet was coming towards them. "Let's make this quick for them."
"One turn?" The black-haired pilot chuckled. "Risky, but sure. Preparing to merge."
Within seconds, the two planes passed by each other head-on with breakneck speed. The Chinese jet quickly made his circular turn, and the pilot could see the enemy jet mirroring him in the other direction only to hear, in horror, the missile lock alarm. The Chinese pilot was barely halfway through his turn when that Vietnamese Su-30 already bent its nose around pointing straight at him, drifting through the air with white vapours frothed atop its wings. A missile followed shortly after. Flares were deployed, but the missile found its mark, slamming onto the Chinese jet just behind the cockpit. Within seconds of challenging the Vietnamese aces, the pilot was dead.
"Hostile confirmed down." Nikolay announced, seeing the blip on his radar just vanish. "No parachutes. Looks like the missile killed them."
"Probably for the better. I doubt those guys down there would be kind to them." Cuong said, glancing down on the flaming wreck that was once a very capable jet piloted by a motivated aviator. "Quite a sudden death I'd say. I wonder what's the last thing they had in their mind there."
"I don't know, probably the missile." Nikolay shrugged. "Dinner's not over yet brother. Let's go for another one."
"No talking while chewing eh? Sure." The Senior Lieutenant rolled his eyes in amusement as the afterburner kicked in and the jet charged straight for another target.
The air battle continued to rage over Lingayen city, with the soldiers and remaining citizens watching on from below. The battle was daunting, only eight Vietnamese jets against dozens of Chinese's. But as the sky continued to be filled with white trails of plane and missile, the tide of the battle was slowly tipping over. Casualties littered the Lingayen city and countryside, with pilot corpses shot out by the Meitner's sniper team or the metallic handiwork of the Lotus squadron. By the end of the battle, all eight azure jets were still airborne, but not without damage.
"Uh-oh, looks like my right wing's flaps are shot out. Fuel's leaking too." A voice came over the comm. It was the captain.
"That was on me captain, they were right in my gunsight!" Another pilot spoke out.
"You ok, captain?" Nikolay asked. "Can you make it back to Manila?"
"I wish. Camp Abat's the closest base around here. They said they have a runway for us to use." Tuan replied, quickly turning his plane around for the base. "Lotus 8, I need you to escort me there. Lotus 4, you are in charge of Lotus now."
"Roger." Cuong replied. Two jets broke off from the battlefield and descended north east towards the base. Some opportunistic Chinese pilots saw this occurring and also broke off to chase the damaged aircraft. "Oh no you don't." The Senior Lieutenant quickly noticed this, however, and descended to follow them.
"Lock!"
"Confirm, launching missile."
A press of a button and a missile dropped from its pylon, quickly speeding off into the distance. To both pilot's surprise that missile did not track. It, in fact, veered off in a different direction altogether.
"What the..." Both eyes peered towards where that missile was going. Towards the sun. Another sun, one that's cooking the clouds above it like a stove. They briefly snapped back in order to get rid of the Chinese jet that was chasing their captain, cutting one of its wings clean off with their cannons. But once that was done, there was another problem to worry about: that sun. What is it doing?
All of a sudden, a blinding energy beam smashed into the gigantic dome down at the beach, the shriek could be felt inside the cockpit, on the yoke that both the pilots were now gripping tight, because what came next was a nasty force pushing from beneath their seat. The whole aircraft shook as both pilots tried to escape the air turbulence caused by this second sun.
The People's Liberation Air Force was now officially pulling back en masse. Within minutes, the only thing flying through the sky over Lingayen are some low-flying helicopters and the six remaining Lotus Squadron jets. It might have seemed like the battle in the air was won, but the pilots in the squadron knew that this wasn't over yet.
"Ground command, what's your status?" Cuong asked over the comm, once the attack had passed. "If you're still there, the sky's clear, awaiting further orders." If no one replied from that, well...they'd just have to figure it out by themselves.
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