World On Fire: Shadow Ops [a Fantasy WWII Quest]

[><] Remember To Put Out Burgers and Coke for Captain America Tonight

You give him your most beatific smile, even as the bullets continue flying around you.

"It's a shame," you shout out in Japanese over the roar of battle, "that my former countrymen do not share your troops' skill in battle. It would have made things a lot easier."

His eyes widen and he swells up a bit, then lets out a most impressive roar that can be easily heard over the sound of battle as he charges you, sword held high. You slip into a defensive stance as you watch it. As you do, the blade starts to glow a bloody red, like a flare. The light hurts your eyes, but you can make out his troops raising their own swords for a defiant charge.

Shit.

Your whole body tenses up as you watch the disorganized IJA troops become a wall of steel in an eyeblink. Even as bullets tear into them, they keep moving, an inordinate amount of dust being kicked up. Your eyes blink to keep it out, and you miss the exact angle of his swing as it comes at you. You deflect the first one, though, and the second, and wait for a third with your eyes closed to block the stinging, foul-smelling, choking dust.

And wait.

And wait.

After a time you think is thirty seconds, with shouts of battle becoming shouts of confusion, you let out a breath - coughing like you'd just drawn too deep from a cigarette as you inhale - and open your eyes. They're gone, with just a reddish cloud of gas that stings your eyes where they once were. You try and find your gas mask with one hand as you reach for your wand with the other. With a snarled word of something in a foreign tongue, you pull your wand out and whip it in a horizontal motion at the cloud. The wind heeds your command and blows it further out of the valley with a whoosh, but that just reveals more red, and no IJA to speak for.

You bite down a curse as you finally put your gas mask on, wanting to be safe rather than sorry. The bastards suckered you. You almost take your hat off if doing so wouldn't ruin the seal of the gas mask, something you're not willing to try now, even with a natural wind blowing the gas away.

"Ab- Abigail!" you call out, turning to the woman. "You recognize this?"

She shakes her head. Sighing, you walk out a bit closer to it, wand held up, trying to sense if it's magical or not. You decide not to bother after a few steps, as the wind is already blowing the smoke too far for it to matter. You keep the mask on for a few more breaths.

"I get the feeling they won't be coming back," Abigail says.

You sigh. "I get the feeling you're right. But we'll run into them again, that I'm sure of."

No votes for this one, the next post will be the end of the chapter. I think I'll do as last time - write the end of chapter and start of next at once.

The new chapter is being delayed (and Stalingrad may end up being put off indefinitely in favor of other major Ostfront battles around the same time) due to some major restructuring going on in how World on Fire is being run - not just the Quest, but the RP as well - @Agritum has stepped down as CEO and I'm taking the RP, the parking space, the Maserati, the private jet, and the business cards with the watermark.

In the meantime, have a sidestory, this one also written by @Maverick A25.


August 24th, 1942
Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands
Henderson Field
0836

To say that it had been a change would've been a huge understatement. The heat, the humidity, and the-

"FUCKING MOSQUITOS!"

Samantha smacked the back of her neck for what must've been the fiftieth time that day, and she only woke up an hour and a half ago. She groaned and huffed, looking out of her tent at the rest of the camp that was so aptly named "Mosquito Grove". She had been shacked up here with the Marine pilots of the Marine Fighter Squadron 223 (VMF-223) along with the Marine Torpedo Bombing Squadron 232 (VMTB-232). Two days ago, the 67th Pursuit Squadron from the Army Air Forces joined them alongside her own squadron.

After her actions at Pearl, General "Hap" Arnold finally got wind of her bickering and sent it down from on high for her to assume temporary command of her own squadron, the 275th Fighter Squadron, as a chance to prove herself. That's why she was deployed to Guadalcanal with the Marine Aviators. It was a motley crew that had been dubbed "The Cactus Air Force" with the "Red Devils" and the "Bulldogs" as the main stars of the show, and now the "Fighting Cocks" and the "Deadeyes" joining them. But in spite of all that jazz, Samantha was starting to wonder if she'd maybe pissed off the wrong people with her gum-flapping.

The place she called "home" was a flooded coconut grove that kept everything nice and soaked no matter where you put it, as if the humidity wasn't bad enough to deal with. She watched some of the Marine pilots walking off towards the airstrip for their daily sortie assignments; wearing their pants rolled up to their knees as they trudged through water up to their shins. This place, truly, was some Hell of its own. When it wasn't the rain and mud, it was the dust that kept fouling up the aircraft engines and grounding them. She'd heard it said around the camp that it was the only place on Earth you could stand up to your knees in mud and still get dust in your eyes.

And if that didn't seem bad enough, the Japs were still around and trying to push onto the airfield. And when they weren't doing that, they were bombing it and shelling it. There was barely a moment's peace around Henderson which had a lot of the boys rattled and fraying at the edges. But then again, it could always be worse. At least her job was to get up into the air instead of marching out to the frontlines. She took her solace whenever and wherever she could get it. With that fresh in her mind, she adjusted her new khaki service shorts and shirt and put her cover on. It was adorned with two silver bars connected with brackets, denoting her new rank of Captain.

The trudge to the airstrip was fraught with the usual immediate annoyances, but thankfully there was still breakfast to be had. If you could call it that, though. Marine food was a definite far cry to the food she'd had at Pearl Harbor, but at least they were able to get some fresh things in like fruit whenever possible. And there would always be exceptions made for holidays or tough missions, though the latter was more often referred to as being akin to a death row inmate's last meal before execution.

"Another day in paradise, ay Cap'n?"

Samantha looked to her left as she saw Lieutenant Windgate making his way to her flank. He was a stocky kid from Vermont and had a head of black hair that only got darker with black dust in it. He joined up in '40 after earning high marks in school, much to the dismay of his parents who wanted him to be a doctor. Though being a smart kid had gotten him a lot of negative attention, it also helped excel his Army career with a commission. When they asked him if he wanted to be in the Army Air Corps, he gladly accepted. After all, who could say no to being a pilot?

"Paradise is a town back in my home state. It's a three-hour drive from Hell."

"No shit. Who knew they were so close together."

"Let's just get some breakfast before the Japs blow up the chow hall."

"I heard that!"

Once they got out of the flooded grove, the walking went a lot easier. Thankfully, it wasn't too much of a hike to the airfield. After all, the Marines didn't want their pilots getting ambushed by Japanese troops trying to sneak through into striking distance. Samantha and Windgate made it to the water trough and washed off the mud from their feet before putting on their service shoes. It was only morning and already it felt hotter than ever. The rest of her flight joined up later and headed into the chow hall, which was more like a huge line of tents around an open kitchen.

The usual breakfast was the same day-in and day-out: Chipped beef on toast. Or, as it was more often called, "shit on a shingle". It was the closest thing to food aside from rations meant for combat troops. Samantha swore she'd never eat shit on a shingle again once she got out of the war. The airfield's chow hall was packed with a lot of Marines from the surrounding area that could make the hike in from the line, as well as afford to do so in the small batches they could. They all looked haggard and worn-down. Their uniforms had tears and were barely buttoned up as a vain attempt to keep cool. Hell, Samantha herself had been debating just ditching the short-sleeve service jacket and going with a plain white t-shirt, but the last thing she wanted was to give the men an excuse to stare at her.

Samantha had just set her tray down on a makeshift table made from old, empty wood crates when a voice caught her.

"SAMMY!"

She froze. In her time since Pearl, much of her thoughts immediately revolved around her career and her flying. As a result, many other things were buried and often left forgotten if they didn't immediately pertain to her objective at hand. And yet there was a line cast into the deep waters that had snagged something and brought it up to the surface so swiftly, it was almost hard to think of everything going on in her brain as all the pieces slammed together in her subconscious.

"Sammy…?" She repeated. Her head turned behind her.

From the other end of the chow hall came a Marine running fast enough to almost look like a blur. Her mind, still processing just what was happening and trying to believe it, had no way to prepare her reaction as the Marine smashed into her and grabbed her in a bear hug.

"SAAMMMYYYYY!!!"

"Wha- who? H-hey!"

"Sammy, it's me!"

Samantha pushed the Marine off her and got a good, long look. Those emerald eyes. That short-cut chocolate brown hair. That wry smile would be back once they calmed down from their excitement, but there was no mistaking it. No matter how much she refused to believe it, a smile grew along her face that couldn't be hidden as she realized that she wasn't dreaming.

"Willow?"

"Holy shit, Sammy!"

The two shared another hug and a laugh, as it quickly became the biggest spectacle of the chow hall.

"Wha…where the hell have you been?! And…what happened to your face?"

"Shit, Sammy. It's been a long time since England. Wait right there, I'll get my tray."

And just like that, the Marine whipped around and made her way back to her table for her own food. Samantha sat down in front of her food. She could scarcely believe that, out of everything this Hellhole had to offer, she'd find her old best friend here too.

"Who's that, Cap'n?" Windgate asked very plainly.

Samantha smiled at him. "That, was Willow Barnes. My best friend since grade school back home."

"Your best friend's a Marine?"

"I guess she is!"

"Wait, what do you mean?"

Before she could answer, Willow came back and took an empty seat on the opposite side of the table from Samantha. Her face was bright as could be, even though she looked like hell. Her uniform was different, though. Unlike the regular Marines who were wearing standard HBT olive drab, hers was a five-color camouflage with a matching helmet cover. There were bandages wrapped around her hands and fingers and a lot more equipment pouches than she was used to seeing on Marines.

"So, what are you doing here?" Willow asked instantly.

"I could ask you the same fuckin' thing!" Samantha replied with a small chuckle. "Last I saw you, you were in the RAF Eagle squadron flying transport planes. Now you're a Marine? Who'd you piss off to get that demotion?"

"I'm not just a Marine. I'm a Raider." That wry, cocky smile was back in full-force. That same smile that Samantha had seen so many times during their misadventures as kids.

"Ho-lee shit."

"Yep! They needed me for some super special shit."

"So…what happened in England?"

Willow looked at the table's other occupants, who all seemed to be hanging onto their every word as they stuffed their faces.

"Don't worry. This is my squadron."

"You got a squadron now?"

"Yeah, but still. Back to England."

Willow looked at them again. Then she looked at Samantha. Then she turned around and looked at everyone around them to make sure everyone else had gone back to their usual breakfast and weren't eavesdropping, before turning back and leaning in a bit. She spoke a bit more hushed, which was something that Samantha wasn't sure Willow was capable of doing in her life.

"They shot me down in late '40. Over France. I was doing some special mission for the Brits."

"Wait, what?" Samantha leaned in closer.

"German fighters took out my Halifax and I had to bail with the 'special cargo' I was carrying. Spent months running with a random resistance group before I managed to get them to take me to an airfield where I stole a Stuka and flew back across the Channel. Once I got that story sorted out, they stopped looking at me as a pilot and started looking at me for a potential "commando" candidate. But before they could put me into that, Uncle Sam came calling for me since I'm still an American and therefore would be better off serving back home with my skills. And, as of a couple months ago, I'm in this new secret unit that I can't talk about so mum's the word, m'kay?"

"What?"

"Don't tell no one."

"Oh. Yeah, I gotcha. Hey, you still have that 'gift' I gave you?"

Willow smiled and sat back up, reaching into one of her breast-pockets. She produced a Stiletto switchblade, to which she pushed the button and let the blade flip out. It was pure silver.

"Never leave home without it." She said before putting it back where it came from.

"So then…what are you doing here?"

"We're doing patrols and raiding Jap camps and supply lines. You know, like Raiders do. It's kinda in the name, Sammy."

"And you like to come here and eat our food?"

"Hey, as long as we're based out of the airfield, I don't see why we can't all share the same food."

The two chuckled and dug into their food before it got cold. It was almost like being back home again, but Samantha knew better. For amidst that childhood attitude of finding your old best friend again, she noticed Willow had changed. She looked tired, muddy, and not quite all here, despite her reaction earlier. Something just seemed off…like there was a distance now. Or maybe that was just her. After all, Willow was a Marine and an enlisted one at that. And here she was, eating chow at the same table as a group of officers. Samantha suddenly felt the eyes on her and looked around.

Sure enough there were other Marines looking at them. But she noticed they weren't looks of jealousy or animosity, but rather just a sort of curiosity. Like watching a mouse eat on the cheese of the mouse trap, wondering when it'll snap onto the rodent. She looked back to Willow and opened with a neutral question.

"So what are the Raiders doing here?"

"Hmm?" Willow looked up from scarfing her food down and swallowed it with a chase of water. "We're on the line to defend Henderson Field from Jap incursions. I'm with the 1st Battalion, and we just got off the line this morning for some chow. We'll be heading back out once we're done."

"To the line?"

"Yeah. Japs aren't gonna wait for us to get done. We're going in squads so there isn't too much slack to pick up."

"Well, good luck. I'll be stuck here with the mosquitos."

"Oh, there are plenty of those to go around." Willow shook her head, but looked up when a sharp whistle came from down the tents. "That's for me. I'll see you later, Sammy!"

Samantha watched Willow wolf the rest of what would be her dinner down and then head out with an M1928A1 Thompson slung back onto her shoulder. Her squad headed out and while she couldn't hear much, she did hear the words "Corporal Barnes". Well, that said it all then. Samantha turned back and found her squadron all staring at her expectantly.

"...what? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Damn, Cap'n. Friends with a Marine?" Windgate joshed.

"Never thought I'd see the day." One of the others said with a smirk.

"Ohhhh, I get it. Ha ha. Anyone wanna play tail end Charlie today?" Samantha said back. Silence denoted their answer. "Didn't think so."

The breakfast was palatable and filling at the very least. A quick time check put the day at quarter past nine. She finished up and headed out with her flight to the Air Operations tent where a lot of the other Marine Aviators were hanging around, waiting for something to do. The local engineers were still busy repairing the damage from the shelling earlier and the mechanics were cleaning the aircraft engines in-case of a sortie. It was an everyday occurrence, as if taking off and landing from the airstrip was an accomplishment itself. Which, in the case of Henderson Field, it was.

"Alright, gents. Listen up." A Marine with a major insignia on his short-sleeved shirt held a piece of paper in his hand as he walked into the tent. Samantha checked her watch again and noticed they'd been sitting around for over half an hour. "We just got word from the Navy. The Saratoga just got a report back from their Catalinas that Jap naval vessels have been sighted to the North. Nothing is certain yet, but I've got a hunch this might be big. The Saratoga and her task force will be making contact with them later this afternoon, probably. We're on standby. High alert. Japs might try to take Henderson off the playing board now that we have a sizable air force here. Don't go anywhere unless you need to and be prepared to scramble at a moment's notice. That's all I have for now. Dismissed."

Samantha and her squadron soon departed and made for their ramp hooch. There were no hangars on Henderson, and probably wouldn't be for the rest of the war if the Japanese artillery gunners had their way. It was now time for the squadron's favorite pastime: Texas Hold 'Em. Well, a number of card games were played, but poker always seemed to be their favorite. Samantha had tried in vain to teach them euchre, but they didn't take to it as well. She'd have to find some others to play the game with eventually.

Aside from Lieutenant Windgate, her other wingmen were Clyde Morrow and David Parrish. Morrow was a hillbilly from Kentucky whose dad may or may not have ran shine up the state during the Prohibition days. He was unusually perceptive for his background, but Samantha learned to trust his eyes. Parrish was, surprisingly, not from Louisiana with a name like that. He had been born in Arkansas and, like Windgate, was a smart enough guy to know that flying a plane was inherently less dangerous than being a rifleman. His father ran a textile industry back home, even through The Depression. He had taken to the dogfighting strategy like a duck to water, and that gave him an edge over his compatriot fliers.

Altogether, they were quite a crack team. Samantha could see the earnest effort the Army Air Corps was giving into actually entertaining the thought of a new special squadron like the RAF had. She wondered what her old CO would say if he found out what she was doing now. Even still, they had a lot to prove yet. New planes and fancy flying were fine, but they would be expected to not only step up to the plate. They had to outscore and outfly their opponents as well as their allies. It was a constant pissing match with the Marine Aviators, even if it was all good fun. And the Navy boys weren't too keen on letting them muscle in on their wins in the Pacific either.

After five rounds and most of the wins going to Parrish, the four of them called it quits for now. Samantha headed off to grab some water, as it was only getting hotter with the sun rising. It was a challenge for her to stay hydrated enough, but at least the water buffalos were still here. She filled up a canteen at the spout and headed back. A quick time check had put the clock more towards mid-afternoon and getting later. As she walked on back towards her wingmen, she heard her name called from behind her.

"Captain Melody?"

"Yes?" Samantha turned around, noting it was the same Marine major who gave them their briefing in the morning.

"Get your boys ready. Just a few minutes ago, the Saratoga launched her planes against the Jap fleet. We don't want any surprises here. Henderson's too important to let fall."

"Understood, sir."

And with that, he left. Short, quick, and to the point. The heat had a way of doing that to you. Everything seemed like a chore. Even the most basic of actions like walking and talking could seem like monumental tasks. Samantha groaned and wiped the sweat from her brow. She'd undone the buttons on her service shirt and was pulling her white undershirt off her chest to get some air circulating under it.

"Far as I'm concerned, the Marines and Navy can have this shitty theater. Can't believe I already miss England."

Samantha approached her flight and told them the news. It wasn't good news, but it wasn't bad news either. They all nodded and headed off to get their gear together. The Cactus Air Force's main plane was the F4F Wildcat, which belonged to the Marines aviators and numbered about 16. The other aircraft were the SBD Dauntlesses, and there were only about a dozen of those. With the 67th here now with their grand total of five export P-400 Airacobras and her own squadron with only four P-40F Warhawks, they were in the minority. It was a pretty haphazard force, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

It wasn't all that much longer to wait. Samantha had gotten her gear ready and even had enough time to down her canteen and refill it again when the base alarm sounded. It was time to scramble. She was surprised to see the Marines weren't at their planes, but neither were the other Army pilots. She saw all of them running out onto the flightline, making for their fighters while she and her squadron were climbing up into their cockpits. She checked her watch as she got her fighter spun up. It was 1420. Gear went fast and soon enough the flight crew had gone and pulled the chocks on her squadron's fighters since they were the only ones spun up and ready to go at the moment. She looked out to the right and saw the flight crewman give her a thumbs up and returned it in kind.

"Alright Deadeyes, taxi out and try not to blow your wheels on takeoff!"

It was all the confirmation they needed. The Warhawks immediately started rolling out and taxied past the Wildcats that were currently spooling their rotors. Even some of the Airacobras were started up too. Seemed that the Army didn't want to let her squadron have all the fun. But they were too slow as the P-40s bounced along to the Marson Mat runway which was still pockmarked with craters from the earlier shellings of the airstrip. Samantha throttled up and led her flight down the runway, dodging the holes in the steel mat sections as daintily as she could without sending her Warhawk off its wheels and into the jungle. After the harrowing journey down the runway was over, Samantha took lead in the formation as her flight came up in a diamond around her.

"Tally bandits!" Morrow said. "I got a large formation coming in from the Northwest!"

"Can you make out the aircraft types?" Samantha asked

"Not yet. They're a bit far out."

"Roger. Alright flight, stick close. We'll wait til the Marines join us before we make contact."

"Why wait?" Parrish asked. "We're already here. I don't feel like sharing kills with some leathernecks."

"Because four of us against a Japanese formation aren't going to last too long. Hang back and wait."

"Copy that."

Samantha could've sworn she heard the disappointment in his voice, but she was right. As they flew a holding pattern waiting for the Marines to join them in their Wildcats, she noticed the formation getting closer. It looked quite staggering. The thin black silhouettes stretched out over the horizon, and it soon seemed to be a much larger force than they anticipated.

"Morrow. You get a bead on those bandits yet?"

"Yeah, I see 'em. Looks like a lot of Zekes…maybe…I see…yeah, looks like they got Bettys too."

"Oh fuck, they're gonna try to wipe Henderson off the map!" Windgate cried.

"Not today they ain't." Samantha looked back at the airstrip and saw that the first formation of Wildcats had gotten off the ground with the second on their way. "Alright, that's enough waiting. Form on my wing, we're gonna get in there and scatter 'em. That'll give our Wildcats a good shot at singling out stragglers. Pair up. Windgate, you're with me."

"You got it, Capo."

"I told you to stop calling me that!"

"Sorry, Cap'n."

The flight broke formation and split into twos. It was around this time that Samantha earnestly started counting the number of planes, but lost it after 35. Among the Zekes and Bettys, she also spied a small number of Kates. The old Warhawk may have gotten the upgraded Merlin engines, but they were still Warhawks against Zeros. That was fine, though. Her flight was well aware of the drawbacks and advantages of the Warhawk when it came to dogfighting the Zeros. They took a high angle once they got within a good distance and made a quick dive into the enemy flights.

The Zekes scattered and the Bettys widened out their paths to accommodate their gunners for fields of fire. Samantha jerked the stick up and gunned the engine with Windgate keeping pace with her.

"Focus on distracting the escorts!"

"Roger that!" Parrish spoke for both him and Morrow.

Samantha looked back and saw a worrying number of Zekes on her tail, but they were failing to keep up with the intense climb. There were still more hanging around the bombers as well. She looped into an Immelmann and then dove back towards the Bettys.

"Windgate, pick a group and pepper 'em!"

"Copy!"

The two of them were now well out of the reach of the first group of Zekes, who were no doubt furiously trying to head them off. However, they were too far back to do anything other than hurl curses. Samantha pulled the trigger on the stick and rattled off a hail of bullets from the six 50 cals her Warhawk had. She and Windgate raked the formations from side to side, which earned them return fire from the Bettys and Kates. Samantha rolled right to avoid the response and dove under them again. Looking ahead, she noticed that the Wildcats and Airacobras were heading their way.

"Finally decided to show up, did you Major?" Samantha queued up the radio.

"Well we couldn't let the Army have all the fun!"

"Roger that. We've got bomber formations on the way to level Henderson. Thought I'd be nice to scatter the escorts for you."

"Good work, Captain. Take the bombers down. We'll focus on the Zekes."

"You got it! Deadeyes, focus on the bombers after you lose your tails!"

The Wildcats wouldn't fare too well, but they were still newer than the Warhawks. The Airacobras weren't much better off either, but at least they had a decently sized 20mm in the nose to pack a punch on the Jap planes. Samantha couldn't help but feel like they were still playing catch up to Japanese air power at this stage of the war. But she took down Zekes at Pearl, and she'd take 'em down here too.

Chancing a look back saw a few still stuck onto her tail. The Wildcats came in, their fifties blazing ahead of them. Samantha hooked her aircraft up and right and led her pursuers into the storm, watching them get riddled and all bank off. One went low and never came back up again. Another had its wing sheared off. It was a good job all around. The Airacobras followed in, staying farther back from the Wildcats to get shots off at targets of opportunity. They weren't suited for high-altitude engagements, but they would make do.

It was about this time that the Deadeye Warhawks came back around and headed up high and found the Bettys. They swooped in and rained down on the formation with their guns. It was then that something unexpected happened. Samantha watched as two of the Bettys opened up their bomb bays.

"That's weird…aren't they way out from Henderson still?" Windgate asked, having seen it too.

Samantha came up and banked around just in time to watch four small figures shoot out from the bomb bays and zip up and around. Her time in England had taught her about this particular menace, but she didn't expect Japan would have them too.

"Witches!" She barked.

"What? Jap witches?!" Morrow asked in disbelief. "The hell are bombers doing carrying witches?!"

"Our job just got harder!"

"They must really not want Henderson operational!" Parrish chimed in.

"Doesn't matter. We'll knock 'em all down. Let the Airacobras focus on the bombers. Keep the witches off them and the Wildcats!"

"Don't think we gotta worry about that, Capo!" Windgate said as he broke off. "Looks like they're heading straight for us!"

"Split 'em up! Drag 'em into a crossfire!"

"Yes ma'am!" The squadron responded in unison.

The battle had gone from staggering to desperate in one fell swoop, but Samantha was getting used to this kind of treatment. She and her flight formed up a loose vee and matched up with the witches. The Army Air Corps hadn't exactly written up a doctrine on dealing with enemy witches yet, but Samantha had tackled German covens over London and elsewhere along the English coast. She knocked down four of them in her old Spitfire, and now she was itching to get more brooms painted on her fuselage.

"Flight, follow my lead!"

As soon as Samantha said that, she jinked up and rolled hard. Just in time, as the hail of incoming fire zipped past her cockpit. Her wing had a few new flaming holes in it.

"Fuck, they're using fire magic! Don't let them get a hit in on you!"

Easier said than done. They were going to try to set the fuel tanks or the engines on fire for a quick and decisive kill. This was, in essence, the worst thing Samantha could think to have to deal with at the moment. But she relied on her training and knew that the Japanese covens were nothing to be trifled with. They could, however, still be fooled. Samantha jerked the stick this way and that as she watched flaming darts and bullets buzz past her aircraft.

"I got one on my tail." She said calmly.

"Jink left!"

Samantha didn't bother to care who it was that said that (though the back of her mind told her it was Morrow) as she moved her whole body brought the plane into a sharp left turn. Looking up, she watched as Morrow's Warhawk sailed right over her with the machine guns lighting up. The witch fell off her broom and tumbled down towards the Earth.

"That's one!"

Now where were the other three? She saw Windgate and Parrish blazing off towards the bombers, and for a second she wondered what they were doing. Then she watched one of the Airacobras explode in midair. Shit! Of course it couldn't be that easy to tangle them all up. They were just trying to distract them instead!

"Morrow, tally that last witch?!"

"No joy! Say again, no joy!"

"Shit! High-tail it! We gotta knock out those bombers before they level Henderson!"

The Kentuckian didn't need to be told twice. Their Warhawks went to full power on their way back to the formation, and she watched as Parrish and Windgate tangoed with the witches while intermittently peppering the Bettys. For all their work, the Kates were a non-factor and the surviving two were trying to make it back at low altitude. There were still too many Bettys to count on them leaving, though. She watched another Airacobra catch fire and plow into the fuselage of one of the bombers after losing control and winced. That made for two Airacobras left and Parrish currently had his hands full with two witches giving him the business, but he was having them dance to his tune too.

"Morrow! Bombers! Go!"

"Affirmative!"

"Windgate?!"

"Took down another one, boss!" He responded as another Betty dipped low with a smoking engine.

"Parrish!"

"I'm okay!!!"

He didn't sound okay.

"Split S! Now!"

Samantha watched as Parrish's fighter rolled upside down and then dove with the maneuver. She lined up right on him and saw the witches coming in hot on his tail. The thing about witches was they were fast and agile at the same time. A real nightmare to deal with. But she kept on.

"Break now!"

Parrish's fighter suddenly climbed and shot up. Samantha followed in turn, but slower. The witches took notice, but it was too late. Samantha let her guns rip into them and watched their brooms get shredded. The problem with offensive magic was that it also kept you from using defensive magic if you focused too much on it.

"That's two more brooms for me!" She shouted.

The last of the Airacobras were mopping up the Betty formation and got them down to single-digits with her flight's help. Once that was noticeable, the rest bugged out. The Zekes had suffered losses but after seeing their bombers get trashed, they too decided it'd be best to live to fight another day. They would make their way back to the Ryūjō carrier that tangled with the Saratoga, where they would find it sunk as a result of the battle. As the fight wound down, Samantha watched as all the planes broke formation and the American flights headed back to Henderson.

"Capo!"

Samantha snapped out of her observation and answered the radio. "I told you to stop calling me that, Windgate!"

"Witch! Six o' clock! She's coming up low on you!"

What?! Samantha instinctively brought her plane left and tried to get a bead on the surviving witch. But her answer came when a sword scraped the bottom of her wingspan from one end to the other. She evened out and looked up to see the witch with a blazing katana in her hands, diving down onto her. Fuck!

At that point, Samantha did the only thing that came to mind. She dove and throttled up. Distance. She had to get distance. And speed was the best way to do that. She forced her plane to the brink and made the engine scream as she dove down low. She chanced a look back to see that her gap was widened now, but it wouldn't be long before it would narrow again. Another pass like that and she'd buy the farm. This had to end fast or she'd be the one going down.

Samantha kept the throttle notched out and let the lift of the wings carry her down and then back up as she zoomed out over the airstrip. When the airspeed bled off, she jerked the stick and the Warhawk flipped up as she pulled another Immelmann turn. She let the fifty cals sing as the witch charged head on. Samantha realized too late that this wasn't a dogfight anymore. This was a suicidal charge. Before she could do anything, she watched in horror as the witch came right in at her cockpit. Her body reacted swiftly, pulling her head to the left. Not a second later, the witch's katana pierced the glass and embedded itself into her seat, the blade close enough to graze her neck.

The witch was not so lucky, but it was a two part gambit. The engine's prop caught her and the broom and soon the shattered cockpit was splattered with viscera and the broom had fouled the engine intake so badly that the entire plane seized up with a sickening jerk. Her mind was going a mile a minute, but the sheer shock of what just happened was still being processed.

"Oh fuck! Fuck!"

Fear gripped her heart as she saw the altimeter ticking down far too fast for her liking, and her stomach was lurching up into her throat as her plane started to fall out of the sky.

"Goddammit!!!"

Samantha couldn't see out the front of her cockpit but she knew that her aircraft was a total write-off. She pushed the katana as hard as she could until it clattered out of the seat and onto the floor. A quick release of the latch and the cockpit's panel flew off. A moment later, she jumped out and pulled her parachute's jump cord.

It was like everything suddenly paused. Samantha watched as her Warhawk tumbled to the ground and crashed, with the sound of its sputtering engine replaced by the slow rush of the wind as her parachute unfurled and slowed her descent. She looked down and saw the ground coming up quickly. The jungle trees caught her chute and snarled her up on her risers about ten feet off the ground. She searched all over and finally found her Stiletto knife. She went to work sawing the canvas straps, but it was slow going. Too slow. Come on. Come on!

After what felt like hours, she was finally free. Free to fall down onto the muddy floor of the jungle. She hit hard on her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

"Ah shit…" She groaned.

Samantha stood herself up and shook her head. The sound of footfalls coming through the brush registered too late in her boggled mind, and suddenly she found herself surrounded by a Japanese patrol. They had uniforms that were camouflaged with foliage from the surrounding fauna. It didn't take them long to point their Arisakas at her and start shouting in her face. She wiped the spittle off from one guy who got too close after he grabbed her pistol from her holster and tossed it onto the ground.

Now, Samantha had been in situations like this before. Back home, being a mafioso was a hard life. You had to watch your back for not only the cops, but also rival mobsters. However, she didn't think any fancy fist work would get her out of this situation. She put her hands up and watched as three of them stood with their rifles aimed at her while another patted her down. Yet another appeared holding a Type 100 submachine gun, which in turn dashed all hope she had of ever overpowering them. Now you went and done it. Nice goin', ace. Got yourself captured. She saw one of them pull a grenade out with a gleam in his beady eyes and a stupid grin on his face, and suddenly she wondered if they were going to take her prisoner or just have some fun at her expense.

Two seconds later the jungle opened up a hail of gunfire. Samantha watched as three of the Japanese soldiers were ripped apart and fell where they stood. The other one with the Type 100, presumably the squad leader, returned fire in kind after a moment's hesitation. Samantha put her back against the tree and watched as a soldier burst out from the other side and clocked the squad leader in the head with her gun, knocking him down onto the ground, and then tackled the other one. Five pops sounded as a pistol was emptied into his gut.

"YOU LIKE THAT, YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!"

The soldier immediately got back up and, meeting the Jap squad leader on his feet, put the gun to his face and pulled the trigger. His body fell back down again, but this time it laid still. It was over as soon as it started. Samantha didn't know what to think until she looked at her savior.

"Holy shit, Willow…" She breathed.

Willow looked up from retrieving her Thompson and just gave Samantha that same old wry smirk. Somehow, the light in her friend's eyes had returned.

"Thought you were a pilot? Had enough flying for today?" Willow asked her as she picked up Samantha's gun and handed it back to her.

"Yeah right. I think I've had enough excitement in general. Can you get me back to Henderson?"

"Is a forty pound rabbit fat?"

Samantha merely blinked, earning a sigh from Willow.

"City's gone and made your brain soft, girl. Come on, I'll get you back to Kansas, Dorothy." Willow chided her as she retrieved her Thompson and loaded a fresh magazine into it.

"Well at least I still have my looks."

For a rare moment in that hellish combat zone, they shared a genuine laugh together as Willow set off back to the Raider battalion with Samantha at her side. It was good to have friends, even in places like this.

So, this is going to be a pretty major decision. The vote I mentioned prior to the sidestory in my last post has concluded, and the RP side of World on Fire will be moving to Spacebattles. Additionally, when I post the OP there sometime in the next weekish or so (most likely by either Sunday or Monday), it will be starting over from the beginning - that said, this Quest will soldier (har har) on as it is. The next chapter will probably be Stalingrad - of course, due to timing, it'll have to be Operation Ring, not Operation Uranus like I initially wanted, so we might finally get a chance to do a short chapter this time!

That said, it is time to Vote on the Fate of this Thread - after all, with the roleplay moving to SB, that raises the question of whether to move the Quest there as well.

[ ] Move to Spacebattles
[ ] Keep the Quest Here

The other major update is mechanics. For at least the next chapter, we will be using FATE Accelerated Edition (FAE). I already have a rough draft of Shizuko's charsheet, and will be making ones for Ethel and Abigail as well, possibly others as the RP goes along. The first vote in the next chapter will be finalizing Shizuko's charsheet for that.