VileScurvy
Verified Pirate
- Location
- Malaysia
[X] Strypgia
Fangs Out & Hair Afire
- Thread starter FC Error
- Start date
- Original
- Location
- Somewhere on the flat earth
[X] Music, hm? Saw a piano downstairs. My skills on that aren't quite what they used to be, but it'd be good to play again.
[X] Leave it out. No need to give the enemy more help than necessary.
No need to tempt the dice.
[X] Leave it out. No need to give the enemy more help than necessary.
No need to tempt the dice.
FC Error
Missileer
- Location
- Aware of where I am not
MacKenzie, actually.
Also, while I'm here; if you're voting for piano, feel free to make song suggestions. To serenade the Ghost with.
TerraOracle
Endministrator=Oracle=*in spoiler jail*
- Location
- Rhodes Island Landship
New '20s right?
[] Gangnam Style
[
] Gangnam Style
Downtime 4.5
FC Error
Missileer
- Location
- Aware of where I am not
Note: Apologies for the short update, writer's block has been beating me over the head lately.
[X] Music, hm? Saw a piano downstairs. My skills on that aren't quite what they used to be, but it'd be good to play again.
[X] Keep the shark mouth. The dazzle is more for decoration than function.
"Listen to music, huh?" you repeat idly, thinking. "Saw a piano downstairs. Been a while. Wouldn't mind knocking the rust off." You cast a sideways glance at Tabby. "Assuming, of course, you don't mind listening to me fumble until I relearn everything."
She cocks her head to the side, giving you a half-smile. "I'm sure I can manage. Besides, you do seem to have a way with your hands."
You smirk. "I try." Standing, you offer your arm to Ghost with a flourish. "Shall we?"
Giggling, she accepts, and you both proceed downstairs, noting the others have already made themselves scarce. Strolling down the south hall to the lounge there, you spot the aforementioned piano against one wall; looking somewhat worn. Maybe an old one, donated to the base or bought for cheap.
Ghost relinquishes you arm and settles herself on a couch; taking a seat in front of the instrument, you pause for a moment to orient yourself, and decide on an old classic.
The song comes easily; surprisingly so, given that you've not even touched a keyboard in years. Letting the notes ring out, almost as if running on autopilot, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. You'd forgotten how fun this could be.
You glance over at your other half; she's got her eyes closed, smiling, nodding in time to the music. You take this as a good sign.
You suppress a wince as you hit some of the high notes - they're not too badly out of key, but your suspicions of this piano being old and well-worn seem to be bearing out. Still, it's not horrible, so you press on, finishing off the tune with a flourish.
"Very nice." Tabby compliments, nodding. "You know, I've heard that song a few times, but never caught the name. Do you know…?" she trails off, quirking an eyebrow.
"Maple Leaf Rag. Despite the title, was actually written by an American guy, Scott Joplin." you reply. Pondering a moment, you settle on another song, cracking your knuckles. "As for this…"
You strike the keys, starting into the second song with vigour. You don't even notice you're muttering the lyrics under your breath until Ghost joins in - you've always thought she had a lovely voice, but hadn't, as you belatedly realise, ever heard her sing. And wow, can she sing; she's keeping up with the tempo easily, her accent barely even detectable.
"Don't, stop me now…" you mutter, resolving to re-tune this thing ASAP as another off-key note hits you. Ghost doesn't seem to notice, thankfully, still singing quietly. Silently, you tell yourself to find a way to convince her to sing more often.
_____
It's nearly an hour and a half later when you pause, shaking your hands. "Fingers going numb." you note, flexing them. "Probably should take a break."
Tabby shrugs. "You have been going for a while now." She pats the seat next to her, and you take it, letting her claim your lap as a pillow. "Not bad, for someone supposedly rusty at playing."
"Piano needs tuning, though." You glance at the instrument in question. "Wonder how old it is."
"Forty-six." your better half answers, pointing. Looking closer, you spot the small '1974' engraved in the wood.
"Well, that explains that." you note. Leaning back, you reach down and pull Ghost into a hug. "While I remember, by the way." You say, switching mental tracks. "Asked the Chief to do our bird up in dazzle-cam. Figured it'd be fairly distinctive."
She hmms. "Only if it's eye-hurting."
You chuckle. "Fair. Also asked about painting a shark mouth on - traditional, and that - but he asked about it basically rendering the dazzle moot by giving a clear visual reference. So, I put it to you; do we care?"
"Mmm… not really." Ghost responds. "Besides, at that short a range, I'm not sure it would matter."
"S' what I was thinking." you mutter, extracting you phone from your pocket and firing a quick text message off to your crew chief. That done, you settle back, smiling as Ghost flops back against you. "How you doing?"
"Tired. But good tired." she replies simply. You nod - you know the feeling - but any reply is cut off by the phone ringing. Sighing, you reach up and snag it.
"Echo two."
"Manto." the caller identifies himself. "Got four guys here in SK uniforms, saying they're supposed to report to your boss."
"Tell them to report to the barracks here, please. We'll get them sorted." you reply, furrowing your brow. Foxtrot flight, here already?
Manto affirms this and hangs up; you put the handset back in its cradle and let your head fall onto the back of the couch. "Newbies are here. Joy."
"Something, something, Yankee cowboys." Ghost deadpans.
The two of you spend the next few minutes just… cuddling, enjoying each other's company. It is, unfortunately, cut far too short by the door opening, and voices reaching you.
"Best go get them squared away." you note, carefully maneuvering out from under your RIO; standing, you stretch, and meander casually down the hall towards the foyer.
Sure as sunrise, there's four men standing around in Silver Knight uniforms. Bloody hell, none of 'em look more than twenty-five.
"Lads." you call out. Somewhat surprisingly, two of them - the six-foot blonde who looks like he spends far too much time at the gym, and the other, entirely unremarkable, save for his apparent age of Far Too Young - snap to attention. The others merely shiver into a mostly-upright pose.
"We're upstairs. Rooms all free, save two-eighteen through two-twenty, which are occupied. Sort yourselves out, two to a room." you keep your tone light, casual; let Bunny do the disciplinarian thing.
"You don't much look like a Gunbunny." Gym Rat, as you mentally designate him, observes. You crack a grin.
"No, she's prettier than I. Echo One is currently off-base, so for now just settle in. For the record, I'm Echo Two-One, Specter. Two-Two is my RIO, Ghost - Three is Tallboy, Four-One and -Two are Ambassador and Beaker respectively. We'll get you properly introduced when everyone's back."
They nod, gathering up their jackets and kit bags. "What's our alert rotation, sir?" inquires one in the back - a tanned lad with a distinct southern drawl.
"Graveyard shift." you inform him, grinning at the assorted expressions of disgruntlement. "We're on acclimatization until tomorrow night, so be prepared to take some melatonin or something. Dismissed." With a casual salute, you leave them to it and wander back towards the lounge.
>[] Call Bunny, inform her of the new arrivals; she is the boss, she should know these things.
>[] Eh, what the hell. She'll find out when she gets back. No need to rush her.
>[] Just send her a text. It's not that urgent.
>Write-in; what do for the rest of the night?
[X] Music, hm? Saw a piano downstairs. My skills on that aren't quite what they used to be, but it'd be good to play again.
[X] Keep the shark mouth. The dazzle is more for decoration than function.
"Listen to music, huh?" you repeat idly, thinking. "Saw a piano downstairs. Been a while. Wouldn't mind knocking the rust off." You cast a sideways glance at Tabby. "Assuming, of course, you don't mind listening to me fumble until I relearn everything."
She cocks her head to the side, giving you a half-smile. "I'm sure I can manage. Besides, you do seem to have a way with your hands."
You smirk. "I try." Standing, you offer your arm to Ghost with a flourish. "Shall we?"
Giggling, she accepts, and you both proceed downstairs, noting the others have already made themselves scarce. Strolling down the south hall to the lounge there, you spot the aforementioned piano against one wall; looking somewhat worn. Maybe an old one, donated to the base or bought for cheap.
Ghost relinquishes you arm and settles herself on a couch; taking a seat in front of the instrument, you pause for a moment to orient yourself, and decide on an old classic.
The song comes easily; surprisingly so, given that you've not even touched a keyboard in years. Letting the notes ring out, almost as if running on autopilot, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. You'd forgotten how fun this could be.
You glance over at your other half; she's got her eyes closed, smiling, nodding in time to the music. You take this as a good sign.
You suppress a wince as you hit some of the high notes - they're not too badly out of key, but your suspicions of this piano being old and well-worn seem to be bearing out. Still, it's not horrible, so you press on, finishing off the tune with a flourish.
"Very nice." Tabby compliments, nodding. "You know, I've heard that song a few times, but never caught the name. Do you know…?" she trails off, quirking an eyebrow.
"Maple Leaf Rag. Despite the title, was actually written by an American guy, Scott Joplin." you reply. Pondering a moment, you settle on another song, cracking your knuckles. "As for this…"
You strike the keys, starting into the second song with vigour. You don't even notice you're muttering the lyrics under your breath until Ghost joins in - you've always thought she had a lovely voice, but hadn't, as you belatedly realise, ever heard her sing. And wow, can she sing; she's keeping up with the tempo easily, her accent barely even detectable.
"Don't, stop me now…" you mutter, resolving to re-tune this thing ASAP as another off-key note hits you. Ghost doesn't seem to notice, thankfully, still singing quietly. Silently, you tell yourself to find a way to convince her to sing more often.
_____
It's nearly an hour and a half later when you pause, shaking your hands. "Fingers going numb." you note, flexing them. "Probably should take a break."
Tabby shrugs. "You have been going for a while now." She pats the seat next to her, and you take it, letting her claim your lap as a pillow. "Not bad, for someone supposedly rusty at playing."
"Piano needs tuning, though." You glance at the instrument in question. "Wonder how old it is."
"Forty-six." your better half answers, pointing. Looking closer, you spot the small '1974' engraved in the wood.
"Well, that explains that." you note. Leaning back, you reach down and pull Ghost into a hug. "While I remember, by the way." You say, switching mental tracks. "Asked the Chief to do our bird up in dazzle-cam. Figured it'd be fairly distinctive."
She hmms. "Only if it's eye-hurting."
You chuckle. "Fair. Also asked about painting a shark mouth on - traditional, and that - but he asked about it basically rendering the dazzle moot by giving a clear visual reference. So, I put it to you; do we care?"
"Mmm… not really." Ghost responds. "Besides, at that short a range, I'm not sure it would matter."
"S' what I was thinking." you mutter, extracting you phone from your pocket and firing a quick text message off to your crew chief. That done, you settle back, smiling as Ghost flops back against you. "How you doing?"
"Tired. But good tired." she replies simply. You nod - you know the feeling - but any reply is cut off by the phone ringing. Sighing, you reach up and snag it.
"Echo two."
"Manto." the caller identifies himself. "Got four guys here in SK uniforms, saying they're supposed to report to your boss."
"Tell them to report to the barracks here, please. We'll get them sorted." you reply, furrowing your brow. Foxtrot flight, here already?
Manto affirms this and hangs up; you put the handset back in its cradle and let your head fall onto the back of the couch. "Newbies are here. Joy."
"Something, something, Yankee cowboys." Ghost deadpans.
The two of you spend the next few minutes just… cuddling, enjoying each other's company. It is, unfortunately, cut far too short by the door opening, and voices reaching you.
"Best go get them squared away." you note, carefully maneuvering out from under your RIO; standing, you stretch, and meander casually down the hall towards the foyer.
Sure as sunrise, there's four men standing around in Silver Knight uniforms. Bloody hell, none of 'em look more than twenty-five.
"Lads." you call out. Somewhat surprisingly, two of them - the six-foot blonde who looks like he spends far too much time at the gym, and the other, entirely unremarkable, save for his apparent age of Far Too Young - snap to attention. The others merely shiver into a mostly-upright pose.
"We're upstairs. Rooms all free, save two-eighteen through two-twenty, which are occupied. Sort yourselves out, two to a room." you keep your tone light, casual; let Bunny do the disciplinarian thing.
"You don't much look like a Gunbunny." Gym Rat, as you mentally designate him, observes. You crack a grin.
"No, she's prettier than I. Echo One is currently off-base, so for now just settle in. For the record, I'm Echo Two-One, Specter. Two-Two is my RIO, Ghost - Three is Tallboy, Four-One and -Two are Ambassador and Beaker respectively. We'll get you properly introduced when everyone's back."
They nod, gathering up their jackets and kit bags. "What's our alert rotation, sir?" inquires one in the back - a tanned lad with a distinct southern drawl.
"Graveyard shift." you inform him, grinning at the assorted expressions of disgruntlement. "We're on acclimatization until tomorrow night, so be prepared to take some melatonin or something. Dismissed." With a casual salute, you leave them to it and wander back towards the lounge.
>[] Call Bunny, inform her of the new arrivals; she is the boss, she should know these things.
>[] Eh, what the hell. She'll find out when she gets back. No need to rush her.
>[] Just send her a text. It's not that urgent.
>Write-in; what do for the rest of the night?
- Location
- singapore
[X]Just send her a text. It's not that urgent.
Axslashel
I am a pessimist not a realist.
- Location
- Land of the Midnight Sun
[X] Call Bunny, inform her of the new arrivals; she is the boss, she should know these things.
Let's do this properly. There might be something important she needs to take care of. And if we are lucky we might catch her at an awkward moment
[Not] Oversee the paintjob. We need to inform them that we have decided to stick with the sharkmouth.
Edit:
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
I did not know it was the middle of night. Thanks Strypgia.
Let's do this properly. There might be something important she needs to take care of. And if we are lucky we might catch her at an awkward moment
[Not] Oversee the paintjob. We need to inform them that we have decided to stick with the sharkmouth.
Edit:
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
I did not know it was the middle of night. Thanks Strypgia.
Last edited:
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
Suggested alternative piece:
[X]Just send her a text. It's not that urgent.
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
[X]Just send her a text. It's not that urgent.
In the middle of the night?
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
TerraOracle
Endministrator=Oracle=*in spoiler jail*
- Location
- Rhodes Island Landship
[X]Just send her a text. It's not that urgent.
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
VileScurvy
Verified Pirate
- Location
- Malaysia
[X]Just send her a text. It's not that urgent.
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
Downtime 4.6
FC Error
Missileer
- Location
- Aware of where I am not
Really sorry for the lack of updates recently; first I had to fight to get my laptop working, then my tablet decided to get weird, then @7734 got me hooked on Katawa Shoujo… augh. Sorry, guys. (I still blame 7734 for that last one, though.)
[X]Just send her a text. It's not that urgent.
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
Fishing your phone from your pocket, you fire off a quick text to Bunny, and turn to reacquire your RIO. Leaning on the wall, you jerk your head towards the door. "Newbies are settling in. Want to go for a walk?"
She nods, rising, and you head out, pausing to listen to the guys upstairs - who, true to expectation, are laughing and chattering away. You shake your head; damn kids. Swinging your coat over your shoulders, you hold open the door your your diminutive girlfriend and follow her out into the night.
Glancing up at the quarter-moon, you button up the coat; March in Massachusetts may be relatively mild, but the wind has picked up a bit. Incidentally, you think, March in Massachusetts might be a good name for a band.
You follow Ghost's lead, setting a relaxed pace; neither of you are in a hurry, particularly. Your ambling takes you towards the flightline; quiet, save for a group of Falcons loading up at the far end of the tarmac. Meandering towards the hangars, you pass one of the man-doors, muttering a curse and snapping an eye closed as a motion-activated light snaps on, handily spoiling your night vision.
"You alright?" Ghost squints at you.
"Just offended by all the -sixteens. Single-engine a shit." you deadpan, waving a hand towards the activity further down. She half-smiles, opens her mouth to reply, when a voice rings out from around the corner.
"Not a Viper fan, huh?"
A man in NEAF cold-weather gear rounds the corner, helmet under his arm, smoke in his other hand. You do a double-take; smoking? What was this, the nineties?
"Reeee, single-engine get out." Ghost monotones. You suppress a snicker at the expression on the young man's fce, opting to lean against the hangar wall and observe.
"No sense of style." he mutters in a stage whisper, shaking his head sadly. You chuckle, leaning forwards.
"Kid, I've got four Yankee aerojocks in my barracks raising an unholy clatter. Don't need any of your cheek." you affect a British accent, adding a disdainful sniff. "Run along back to your little toys, now."
"Kid?" he asks incredulously, dropping his smoke and putting it out with a bootheel. You nod, to affirm.
"Kid. You look young enough to be in high school. I was around when people didn't even know what an internet was." A slight exaggeration, but not much of one. Letting the accent drop, you step forward, holding out a hand. "Marcus Kallon. Silver Knight Security."
Gears turn behind the pilot's eyes, and he blinks. "Oh, the guys who came in a day or so ago?" He steps forward and clasps your hand, with a firm shake. "Leftenant Morgan Brand, NEAF."
"Good to meet you. Your plane's still shit, though." you grin at him. Ghost coughs lightly, stepping forward.
"Tabitha Behrendt." she says simply, extending a hand. Brand accepts it, smiling.
"His wingmate?" he queries, indicating you. Ghost shakes her head.
"RIO."
"Ah. Twin-seat and twin-engine? Tsk tsk tsk." Brand shakes his head in mock disappointment. "You're getting old, man."
"Mumble mumble gerroff my lawn." you deadpan. You nod towards the far end of the flightline. "Those your lot?"
"Ayep." he agrees. "Can't talk about it much, naturally, but we're set to leave sometime in the next hour or so."
You're about to reply when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Pulling it out and flipping it open - and ignoring Brand's double-take at the sight of such stone-age technology - you read Bunny's reply to your earlier message.
Gunbunny [00:02:32]: What, here already? Tell 'em to sort themselves out, I guess.
Specter [00:02:50]: Already covered. Figured I'd let you do the welcome-to-the-company speech, though.
Gunbunny [00:03:03]: Yaaaaaaaay.
Flipping your phone closed, you pocket it and stare levelly at Brand's exaggerated look of horror.
"A… a… flip-phone?!" he exclaims, leaning backwards. "I… I think I ended up in the wrong century! Quick, what year is it?"
"Nineteen ninety-five." You 'answer', smirking. "Laugh it up, son, just because some of us were born in the last century…"
He snickers at this. "Well, fun talkin' to you, gramps, but I gotta boogie. See you." with a brief salute, he amscrays, vanishing around the corner and towards the planes lined up on the tarmac.
"It's okay." Ghost pats you on the arm, a smirk plastered across her features. "You're not that old."
"Gee, that makes me feel so much better." you reply dryly.
_____
Your watch is showing 02:10 by the time you and Ghost return to the flights' building, shedding your coats quietly - and pausing at the lack of sound from upstairs.
You arch an eyebrow at Ghost, who shrugs, and you lead the way upstairs, moving silently on the carpeted floor. Making your way down the hall, you pause at the sight of Tallboy, leaning on the wall and looking into the lounge with a tremendously amused look on his face. Meandering forwards, you lean on the wall yourself, looking towards the source of the un-commotion.
There stands Foxtrot flight, three of their members looking both amused and mildly concerned, and the fourth - a short, slightly scrawny one - clearly wanting to hide behind Gym Rat, but pinned in place by Bunny's glare.
You can feel the heat radiating off said glare from here, and idly wonder what exactly he said.
"Dismissed." Bunny bites out, the glare tracking the scrawny one towards his room as the other three drift towards the kitchen, apparently not the source of your flight lead's ire.
"Boss." you call out, getting her attention. The glare softens into an irritated look, and she sighs.
"Specter. What's up?"
"I should ask you same." you note. "Looked like you were about to punt the guy out the nearest window."
"He-"
"Implied she was a low-class call girl," Tallboy interrupts smoothly, "Questioned her command skills, tried to brush her off. Suffice to say, he ended up on the receiving end of The Bunny."
You nod sagely. The only time you've seen your lead cut loose - on a hapless ordnance handler who'd managed to wrongly attach a bomb to her bird, which had dropped loose and bounced down the runway on landing - it had been entirely deserving of the capital letters.
"You gonna kick it up the chain and see about a replacement?" you query. Ghost simply walks over to Angela and wraps her in a hug.
"Don't think so." she replies, putting an arm around Tabby's shoulders; Tallboy, for his part, seems nonplussed by the sudden display of affection.
"Want me to ask with the other three about it? Seems like the kind of thing they'd catch in intake, but…" you pause, and glance at Tallboy, who's got an arm across your shoulders. "Ey?"
"What, this isn't a thing we're doing now?" he grins, gesturing to Bunny and Ghost. You arch an eyebrow.
"I may swing both ways, but I am a bit taken." you point out, indicating Ghost. He opens his mouth to respond when she pipes up.
"I'm willing to share." You shoot her a 'wait what' look, noting that Bunny seems to be paying exceptionally close attention at this juncture.
"...I'll have to take a pass on that for now." you respond, at length. "No offense."
"None taken." he shrugs, dropping his arm and proceeding towards the coffeemaker. "Besides, you three already have your thing, don'tcha? I can see that keeping you busy."
You just chuckle, but Bunny goes wide-eyed. "Wait, three? I'm not- we don't- wuh?"
Brent laughs, almost dropping his mug. "Come on, boss. Not hard to figure out if you're looking."
"Not like we've been all that subtle." you point out mildly. Ghost maneuvers the red-faced Angela over to a couch and plonks her down, sitting down beside her and keeping her arms wrapped around the flight lead.
"We can't- I mean, with Foxtrot here now-"
You pause. That… you hadn't actually considered that.
>[] She has a point. Probably should hold off on the whole affection-with-the-boss thing for now.
>[] Who said we had to restrict it to the barracks? I'm sure we can find somewhere with no newbies to observe us.
>[] Write-in!
[X]Just send her a text. It's not that urgent.
[X] Take a walk around with Ghost while they noobs pick out rooms. They'll probably be noisy. Check out the flightline?
Fishing your phone from your pocket, you fire off a quick text to Bunny, and turn to reacquire your RIO. Leaning on the wall, you jerk your head towards the door. "Newbies are settling in. Want to go for a walk?"
She nods, rising, and you head out, pausing to listen to the guys upstairs - who, true to expectation, are laughing and chattering away. You shake your head; damn kids. Swinging your coat over your shoulders, you hold open the door your your diminutive girlfriend and follow her out into the night.
Glancing up at the quarter-moon, you button up the coat; March in Massachusetts may be relatively mild, but the wind has picked up a bit. Incidentally, you think, March in Massachusetts might be a good name for a band.
You follow Ghost's lead, setting a relaxed pace; neither of you are in a hurry, particularly. Your ambling takes you towards the flightline; quiet, save for a group of Falcons loading up at the far end of the tarmac. Meandering towards the hangars, you pass one of the man-doors, muttering a curse and snapping an eye closed as a motion-activated light snaps on, handily spoiling your night vision.
"You alright?" Ghost squints at you.
"Just offended by all the -sixteens. Single-engine a shit." you deadpan, waving a hand towards the activity further down. She half-smiles, opens her mouth to reply, when a voice rings out from around the corner.
"Not a Viper fan, huh?"
A man in NEAF cold-weather gear rounds the corner, helmet under his arm, smoke in his other hand. You do a double-take; smoking? What was this, the nineties?
"Reeee, single-engine get out." Ghost monotones. You suppress a snicker at the expression on the young man's fce, opting to lean against the hangar wall and observe.
"No sense of style." he mutters in a stage whisper, shaking his head sadly. You chuckle, leaning forwards.
"Kid, I've got four Yankee aerojocks in my barracks raising an unholy clatter. Don't need any of your cheek." you affect a British accent, adding a disdainful sniff. "Run along back to your little toys, now."
"Kid?" he asks incredulously, dropping his smoke and putting it out with a bootheel. You nod, to affirm.
"Kid. You look young enough to be in high school. I was around when people didn't even know what an internet was." A slight exaggeration, but not much of one. Letting the accent drop, you step forward, holding out a hand. "Marcus Kallon. Silver Knight Security."
Gears turn behind the pilot's eyes, and he blinks. "Oh, the guys who came in a day or so ago?" He steps forward and clasps your hand, with a firm shake. "Leftenant Morgan Brand, NEAF."
"Good to meet you. Your plane's still shit, though." you grin at him. Ghost coughs lightly, stepping forward.
"Tabitha Behrendt." she says simply, extending a hand. Brand accepts it, smiling.
"His wingmate?" he queries, indicating you. Ghost shakes her head.
"RIO."
"Ah. Twin-seat and twin-engine? Tsk tsk tsk." Brand shakes his head in mock disappointment. "You're getting old, man."
"Mumble mumble gerroff my lawn." you deadpan. You nod towards the far end of the flightline. "Those your lot?"
"Ayep." he agrees. "Can't talk about it much, naturally, but we're set to leave sometime in the next hour or so."
You're about to reply when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Pulling it out and flipping it open - and ignoring Brand's double-take at the sight of such stone-age technology - you read Bunny's reply to your earlier message.
Gunbunny [00:02:32]: What, here already? Tell 'em to sort themselves out, I guess.
Specter [00:02:50]: Already covered. Figured I'd let you do the welcome-to-the-company speech, though.
Gunbunny [00:03:03]: Yaaaaaaaay.
Flipping your phone closed, you pocket it and stare levelly at Brand's exaggerated look of horror.
"A… a… flip-phone?!" he exclaims, leaning backwards. "I… I think I ended up in the wrong century! Quick, what year is it?"
"Nineteen ninety-five." You 'answer', smirking. "Laugh it up, son, just because some of us were born in the last century…"
He snickers at this. "Well, fun talkin' to you, gramps, but I gotta boogie. See you." with a brief salute, he amscrays, vanishing around the corner and towards the planes lined up on the tarmac.
"It's okay." Ghost pats you on the arm, a smirk plastered across her features. "You're not that old."
"Gee, that makes me feel so much better." you reply dryly.
_____
Your watch is showing 02:10 by the time you and Ghost return to the flights' building, shedding your coats quietly - and pausing at the lack of sound from upstairs.
You arch an eyebrow at Ghost, who shrugs, and you lead the way upstairs, moving silently on the carpeted floor. Making your way down the hall, you pause at the sight of Tallboy, leaning on the wall and looking into the lounge with a tremendously amused look on his face. Meandering forwards, you lean on the wall yourself, looking towards the source of the un-commotion.
There stands Foxtrot flight, three of their members looking both amused and mildly concerned, and the fourth - a short, slightly scrawny one - clearly wanting to hide behind Gym Rat, but pinned in place by Bunny's glare.
You can feel the heat radiating off said glare from here, and idly wonder what exactly he said.
"Dismissed." Bunny bites out, the glare tracking the scrawny one towards his room as the other three drift towards the kitchen, apparently not the source of your flight lead's ire.
"Boss." you call out, getting her attention. The glare softens into an irritated look, and she sighs.
"Specter. What's up?"
"I should ask you same." you note. "Looked like you were about to punt the guy out the nearest window."
"He-"
"Implied she was a low-class call girl," Tallboy interrupts smoothly, "Questioned her command skills, tried to brush her off. Suffice to say, he ended up on the receiving end of The Bunny."
You nod sagely. The only time you've seen your lead cut loose - on a hapless ordnance handler who'd managed to wrongly attach a bomb to her bird, which had dropped loose and bounced down the runway on landing - it had been entirely deserving of the capital letters.
"You gonna kick it up the chain and see about a replacement?" you query. Ghost simply walks over to Angela and wraps her in a hug.
"Don't think so." she replies, putting an arm around Tabby's shoulders; Tallboy, for his part, seems nonplussed by the sudden display of affection.
"Want me to ask with the other three about it? Seems like the kind of thing they'd catch in intake, but…" you pause, and glance at Tallboy, who's got an arm across your shoulders. "Ey?"
"What, this isn't a thing we're doing now?" he grins, gesturing to Bunny and Ghost. You arch an eyebrow.
"I may swing both ways, but I am a bit taken." you point out, indicating Ghost. He opens his mouth to respond when she pipes up.
"I'm willing to share." You shoot her a 'wait what' look, noting that Bunny seems to be paying exceptionally close attention at this juncture.
"...I'll have to take a pass on that for now." you respond, at length. "No offense."
"None taken." he shrugs, dropping his arm and proceeding towards the coffeemaker. "Besides, you three already have your thing, don'tcha? I can see that keeping you busy."
You just chuckle, but Bunny goes wide-eyed. "Wait, three? I'm not- we don't- wuh?"
Brent laughs, almost dropping his mug. "Come on, boss. Not hard to figure out if you're looking."
"Not like we've been all that subtle." you point out mildly. Ghost maneuvers the red-faced Angela over to a couch and plonks her down, sitting down beside her and keeping her arms wrapped around the flight lead.
"We can't- I mean, with Foxtrot here now-"
You pause. That… you hadn't actually considered that.
>[] She has a point. Probably should hold off on the whole affection-with-the-boss thing for now.
>[] Who said we had to restrict it to the barracks? I'm sure we can find somewhere with no newbies to observe us.
>[] Write-in!
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
[X] You are going to boldly sacrifice yourself for the sake of getting Ghost to lay the groundwork of this menage a troís by ramming those noobs straight into the ordy bunker so hard they can't tell a Scorpion from a Starfighter.
EDIT: FASTEST THING ON NO LEGS WHEN?
EDIT: FASTEST THING ON NO LEGS WHEN?
Last edited:
- Location
- Somewhere on the flat earth
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
My chill is only when we're over angels fifteen and have a full internal tank. Waifu are serious buisness.
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
Oh Jeebus.... bet that earned a few white hairs!
lols
Whuh oh. Ghost is a closet pervert. Who knew?
[X] You are going to boldly sacrifice yourself for the sake of getting Ghost to lay the groundwork of this menage a troís by ramming those noobs straight into the ordy bunker so hard they can't tell a Scorpion from a Starfighter.
TerraOracle
Endministrator=Oracle=*in spoiler jail*
- Location
- Rhodes Island Landship
[x] 7734
Because this can't go wrong in the slightest.
Because this can't go wrong in the slightest.
BAAHAHAHA--
VileScurvy
Verified Pirate
- Location
- Malaysia
[X] You are going to boldly sacrifice yourself for the sake of getting Ghost to lay the groundwork of this menage a troís by ramming those noobs straight into the ordy bunker so hard they can't tell a Scorpion from a Starfighter.
This looks fun.
This looks fun.
- Location
- va
[X] Who said we had to restrict it to the barracks? I'm sure we can find somewhere with no newbies to observe us.
Downtime 4.7
FC Error
Missileer
- Location
- Aware of where I am not
[X] You are going to boldly sacrifice yourself for the sake of getting Ghost to lay the groundwork of this menage a troís by ramming those noobs straight into the ordy bunker so hard they can't tell a Scorpion from a Starfighter.
"Well." you note. "I might have a solution for that. Tallboy, I'mma need the projector set up in the other lounge-" you gesture down the hall "-and I'll IM you the link-"
"I think I know what you mean. I'll get it set up." he grins. It is not a friendly grin; nay, 'tis the grin of an assassin sighting his target, undefended.
"Ta for that. Ghost?"
She looks over at you, still wrapped around Bunny. "Hm?"
"Geh mal die Flugleiterin ficken." you state bluntly, drawing a surprised blink from her (and a clueless look from Angela). "I'll round up the noobs and keep them busy elsewhere. Have fun."
Wearing a frankly concerning smirk, your partner gently leads your boss into your room, closing the door behind them with a click. Wandering over to the door opposite - where the rather rude new guy disappeared to - you tap on the door. "Foxtrot flight meeting in the north lounge, five minutes." you inform the door - ignoring the wordless call of acknowledgement - and proceed towards the kitchen.
Sticking your head in the door, you find the three others - Gym Rat, One-Man Crowd, and Steers, as you temporarily designate them, and tap on the countertop to get their attention.
"Sir." Gym Rat nods at you politely.
"Heyo. Meeting in five minutes, north lounge-" you point "-for your flight. Just got some stuff to go over."
They nod, so you amscray and join Brent in aforementioned lounge, as he finishes plugging in the projector and laptop he seems to drag everywhere with him.
"Just about ready. You got the video you wanted?"
"Ayup." you confirm. "The missile knows where it is at all times…" you trail off, grinning. He snickers, booting up the laptop.
"You're mean, you know that?"
"I'm technically and officially the flight's exec," you point out. "Supposed to be a bastard, aren't I?"
He shrugs. "Probably. Just a sec, I'll get this up."
You idly hope Ghost heard your five-minutes warning before she starts in on Bunny.
_____
The four pilots of Foxtrot flight file into the lounge, taking seats and trying to look attentive (save the rude one, naturally). You nod at them, shifting into Official Business mode.
"Alright, gentlemen. As I'm sure you're aware, you've been assigned to Echo Flight as a form of on-the-job training. I'm Echo's XO, Pilot Marcus Kallon, callsign Specter. I fly the F-model Superbug. This is Pilot Brent Menscha, callsign Tallboy. Our Fulcrum driver." You direct an expecting look at the newbies.
One apparently takes the hint. "Junior Pilot Peter Nand." Gym Rat offers. "Superbug."
"J.P. Julian Heather. Flying a Viper." The scrawny one chimes in.
"Keith McDowell. I prefer a Gripen." the Texan calls out.
You direct a look at the last one, but he simply stares back mutely. Nand sighs. "That's J.P. Thomas Ferrier. He drives the Mirage."
You nod. "We'll see about your callsigns later. For the record, we're on alert ten, from twenty-two hundred to oh-four hundred every night, plus on twenty-minute alert and general duties until oh-eight or oh-nine, depending on workload. No upcoming ops that we know of yet. Questions so far?"
Seeing the shaking heads, you nod. "Alright. Now we get to the traditional part of this little meet-and-greet. Tallboy?" you nod to the projector. He taps something on his laptop's keyboard and enabled the projector, letting the video start playing.
You keep your face carefully blank, observing the newbies' expressions as the video plays out. Nand's genial friendliness melts into confusion; Heather's expression remains unchanged, but he slowly leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the side; McDowell looks almost haunted, eyes widening slowly, and Asshole-In-Chief's expression seems to ice over, freezing in place.
The narration ceases, leaving you - and, you suspect, Tallboy - fighting to keep straight faces. "Questions so far?"
The four just stare at you. "Is this a test, or something?" Maximum Asshole queries you. You nod.
"Aye, it is. Speaking of: how does the missile know where it is?"
McDowell leans forward, poorly-concealed smirk on his face. "That's easy. See, it knows where it isn't."
"How?" Heather asks blankly.
"Simple. It's moving, see, so in a few second it'll be where it wasn't, and then that's where it is."
Nand narrows his eyes. "You're fucking with us, aren't you."
"Just a little." Tallboy cuts in, chuckling. "Traditional hazing, you know."
"To get back to actual official stuff, though." You snicker. "Tallboy and myself will be riding herd on your sorry hides until it's decided you're in fit shape to do your own thing, at which point one of you will be bumped up to Pilot and take command of Foxtrot flight. Word of warning; the others might not looks like much, but fear them."
"He's right." Brent notes at their skeptical expressions. "Ghost especially. That woman is a terror. It's less stressful having a Falcon socked in on my six than facing down an irate Ghost."
For a moment, you swear you hear a muffled yelp from the other end of the hall. Nobody else seems to have heard anything, though. Steady, Specter. Focus. "Assuming we have the spare time, one of us two will bring you to meet our local NEAF liason tomorrow. For now…"
You pull out a sheaf of assorted paperwork grinning ferally at the chorus of groans. "Oh, yes. You all get to suffer this, too."
Handing out the mass of 'welcome to Silver Knight, here's your complimentary Death by Paper', you take a seat on one of the armchairs and draw your phone. "Have at it."
______
Glancing up at the clock, you wince. "Alright, that's later than I had figured. Tallboy, want to take this lot into town and caffeinate them?"
Apparently catching your meaning, he nods. "Let's go, guys. You look dead on your feet already."
Standing, you make tracks for your room, waiting until the mutters and murmurs of conversation from Foxtrot are cut off by the front door before knocking quietly. "Da ich bin, Geist."
"Come in." the response is quiet.
Doing so, you close the door silently behind you and grin at the sight within; Angela is hiding under a blanket on Ghost's bed, cheeks aglow, and Tabby herself (sans clothing, and apparently, shame) grins at you from atop her. "Have fun with the newbies?"
"Trolled them with The Missile Knows, so I'd say yes. Have fun with the Bunny?"
Her only response is a languid smile. "Naturally. She may even be able to walk again, by tonight."
You snicker. "She still conscious?"
"Yes, she is." Bunny mutters. "No thanks to Fingers McGee here."
"Be glad she can't do the thing to you." You advise. "If applied wrongly, I am entirely convinced it can be lethal."
"You know you enjoy it, so quit whinging." Tabby replies cheerfully, flopping down beside Angela. You collapse onto your own bed, glancing at the clock.
"Bit early, but bugger, I'm tired." you mutter to the room at large, letting yourself fall limp.
There's a shuffling on the other side of the room; your only warning is a "Wait, wha-" before Bunny lands on you.
Or 'was deposited', rather.
Cracking open an eye, you direct a baleful look at Ghost. "Was that entirely necessary?"
"Yes." she deadpans, crawling into bed beside you. "Now move over, or I'll steal the blankets."
"You do that anyway." you point out, but do move over, letting your RIO position Bunny (once more bearing a luminescent blush) between you.
"Less talk, more snooze."
With that, at least, you can agree.
_____
The quiet music from your phone rouses you gently; pawing you it, you bring it up to your face, idly noting the "20:00" on the screen before killing the alarm.
You'd be amazed by your ability to feel exhausted after a solid ten hours of sleep, if you weren't too tired to muster the effort.
>[] You're not on duty for two hours. It's comfy here. Stay in bed for a bit.
>[] Fuck it. Best stay in the habit of getting up on time. Coffee awaits.
>[] Write-in; anything you want to do before you go on-shift at 22:00?
"Well." you note. "I might have a solution for that. Tallboy, I'mma need the projector set up in the other lounge-" you gesture down the hall "-and I'll IM you the link-"
"I think I know what you mean. I'll get it set up." he grins. It is not a friendly grin; nay, 'tis the grin of an assassin sighting his target, undefended.
"Ta for that. Ghost?"
She looks over at you, still wrapped around Bunny. "Hm?"
"Geh mal die Flugleiterin ficken." you state bluntly, drawing a surprised blink from her (and a clueless look from Angela). "I'll round up the noobs and keep them busy elsewhere. Have fun."
Wearing a frankly concerning smirk, your partner gently leads your boss into your room, closing the door behind them with a click. Wandering over to the door opposite - where the rather rude new guy disappeared to - you tap on the door. "Foxtrot flight meeting in the north lounge, five minutes." you inform the door - ignoring the wordless call of acknowledgement - and proceed towards the kitchen.
Sticking your head in the door, you find the three others - Gym Rat, One-Man Crowd, and Steers, as you temporarily designate them, and tap on the countertop to get their attention.
"Sir." Gym Rat nods at you politely.
"Heyo. Meeting in five minutes, north lounge-" you point "-for your flight. Just got some stuff to go over."
They nod, so you amscray and join Brent in aforementioned lounge, as he finishes plugging in the projector and laptop he seems to drag everywhere with him.
"Just about ready. You got the video you wanted?"
"Ayup." you confirm. "The missile knows where it is at all times…" you trail off, grinning. He snickers, booting up the laptop.
"You're mean, you know that?"
"I'm technically and officially the flight's exec," you point out. "Supposed to be a bastard, aren't I?"
He shrugs. "Probably. Just a sec, I'll get this up."
You idly hope Ghost heard your five-minutes warning before she starts in on Bunny.
_____
The four pilots of Foxtrot flight file into the lounge, taking seats and trying to look attentive (save the rude one, naturally). You nod at them, shifting into Official Business mode.
"Alright, gentlemen. As I'm sure you're aware, you've been assigned to Echo Flight as a form of on-the-job training. I'm Echo's XO, Pilot Marcus Kallon, callsign Specter. I fly the F-model Superbug. This is Pilot Brent Menscha, callsign Tallboy. Our Fulcrum driver." You direct an expecting look at the newbies.
One apparently takes the hint. "Junior Pilot Peter Nand." Gym Rat offers. "Superbug."
"J.P. Julian Heather. Flying a Viper." The scrawny one chimes in.
"Keith McDowell. I prefer a Gripen." the Texan calls out.
You direct a look at the last one, but he simply stares back mutely. Nand sighs. "That's J.P. Thomas Ferrier. He drives the Mirage."
You nod. "We'll see about your callsigns later. For the record, we're on alert ten, from twenty-two hundred to oh-four hundred every night, plus on twenty-minute alert and general duties until oh-eight or oh-nine, depending on workload. No upcoming ops that we know of yet. Questions so far?"
Seeing the shaking heads, you nod. "Alright. Now we get to the traditional part of this little meet-and-greet. Tallboy?" you nod to the projector. He taps something on his laptop's keyboard and enabled the projector, letting the video start playing.
You keep your face carefully blank, observing the newbies' expressions as the video plays out. Nand's genial friendliness melts into confusion; Heather's expression remains unchanged, but he slowly leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the side; McDowell looks almost haunted, eyes widening slowly, and Asshole-In-Chief's expression seems to ice over, freezing in place.
The narration ceases, leaving you - and, you suspect, Tallboy - fighting to keep straight faces. "Questions so far?"
The four just stare at you. "Is this a test, or something?" Maximum Asshole queries you. You nod.
"Aye, it is. Speaking of: how does the missile know where it is?"
McDowell leans forward, poorly-concealed smirk on his face. "That's easy. See, it knows where it isn't."
"How?" Heather asks blankly.
"Simple. It's moving, see, so in a few second it'll be where it wasn't, and then that's where it is."
Nand narrows his eyes. "You're fucking with us, aren't you."
"Just a little." Tallboy cuts in, chuckling. "Traditional hazing, you know."
"To get back to actual official stuff, though." You snicker. "Tallboy and myself will be riding herd on your sorry hides until it's decided you're in fit shape to do your own thing, at which point one of you will be bumped up to Pilot and take command of Foxtrot flight. Word of warning; the others might not looks like much, but fear them."
"He's right." Brent notes at their skeptical expressions. "Ghost especially. That woman is a terror. It's less stressful having a Falcon socked in on my six than facing down an irate Ghost."
For a moment, you swear you hear a muffled yelp from the other end of the hall. Nobody else seems to have heard anything, though. Steady, Specter. Focus. "Assuming we have the spare time, one of us two will bring you to meet our local NEAF liason tomorrow. For now…"
You pull out a sheaf of assorted paperwork grinning ferally at the chorus of groans. "Oh, yes. You all get to suffer this, too."
Handing out the mass of 'welcome to Silver Knight, here's your complimentary Death by Paper', you take a seat on one of the armchairs and draw your phone. "Have at it."
______
Glancing up at the clock, you wince. "Alright, that's later than I had figured. Tallboy, want to take this lot into town and caffeinate them?"
Apparently catching your meaning, he nods. "Let's go, guys. You look dead on your feet already."
Standing, you make tracks for your room, waiting until the mutters and murmurs of conversation from Foxtrot are cut off by the front door before knocking quietly. "Da ich bin, Geist."
"Come in." the response is quiet.
Doing so, you close the door silently behind you and grin at the sight within; Angela is hiding under a blanket on Ghost's bed, cheeks aglow, and Tabby herself (sans clothing, and apparently, shame) grins at you from atop her. "Have fun with the newbies?"
"Trolled them with The Missile Knows, so I'd say yes. Have fun with the Bunny?"
Her only response is a languid smile. "Naturally. She may even be able to walk again, by tonight."
You snicker. "She still conscious?"
"Yes, she is." Bunny mutters. "No thanks to Fingers McGee here."
"Be glad she can't do the thing to you." You advise. "If applied wrongly, I am entirely convinced it can be lethal."
"You know you enjoy it, so quit whinging." Tabby replies cheerfully, flopping down beside Angela. You collapse onto your own bed, glancing at the clock.
"Bit early, but bugger, I'm tired." you mutter to the room at large, letting yourself fall limp.
There's a shuffling on the other side of the room; your only warning is a "Wait, wha-" before Bunny lands on you.
Or 'was deposited', rather.
Cracking open an eye, you direct a baleful look at Ghost. "Was that entirely necessary?"
"Yes." she deadpans, crawling into bed beside you. "Now move over, or I'll steal the blankets."
"You do that anyway." you point out, but do move over, letting your RIO position Bunny (once more bearing a luminescent blush) between you.
"Less talk, more snooze."
With that, at least, you can agree.
_____
The quiet music from your phone rouses you gently; pawing you it, you bring it up to your face, idly noting the "20:00" on the screen before killing the alarm.
You'd be amazed by your ability to feel exhausted after a solid ten hours of sleep, if you weren't too tired to muster the effort.
>[] You're not on duty for two hours. It's comfy here. Stay in bed for a bit.
>[] Fuck it. Best stay in the habit of getting up on time. Coffee awaits.
>[] Write-in; anything you want to do before you go on-shift at 22:00?