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Oryeol Mountains, Democratic People's Republic of Clavis.
1435 hours.
26th October 2016
It had been six months since the Republic of Clavis, aided by a coalition from Osea and the Anean countries springboarded their summer offensive into their Eastern neighbour under the name Operation Warhammer, pushing back the armies of the DPRC from the west along with a rapid landing operation following by a massive air and land offensive into the mainland of the DPRC itself. However, the mountains of the central region proved quite the challenge for the advancing Allied forces and Operation Warhammer ground to a slow halt by the time Autumn came around in September. While the generals and top brass gathered to plan a restart of the offensive (which in and of itself was to stop once they reached the capital city of Sucheong), most engagements that took place by October consisted of mostly air patrols taking potshots at each other and small raids by commando teams on each side.
Already in the mountains below Blizzard Squadron's patrol area, the grey fog of winter was beginning to rise, a contrast to the blue skies above in which their flight of six Su-35S Flankers circled like hawks while an allied U-2 hovered far above them, its cameras transmitting a live feed back to their AWACS plane, a dark grey E-767 who went by the callsign Silvereye.
"Silvereye to Blizzard team. We have bogeys on radar. Your patrol orders have been rescinded and you lot are to intercept. Ghoul team is already en route too."
Hangman rolled his eyes but then brushed away his thoughts. He and his squadron hadn't seen any real action in weeks after all.
"Roger Silvereye. Heading there now."
He turned towards the mountains, his plane flying straight at the flashing blip on his radar screen. The rest of his flight followed. All six Flankers cutting a swathe through the blue skies with their white contrails.
-
Hangman looked out his windscreen. The bogey was headed straight at them. Just less than five minutes ago, Ghoul squadron had engaged and then suddenly disappeared from radar. The last thing everyone heard was that there were only three planes before the transmission was cut off with static.
"...equest..ing b...k ..up." A faint voice crackled through the static. Hangman pushed the throttles forward, his Flanker already streaking through the thin mountain air at Mach 2.
"Ghoul 7 t.. ..ny ...endly a..rcr..ft.." A survivor. Surely there had to be at least one or two more?
"This is Blizzard 1 to Ghoul 7. If you can hear me, get what's left of your flight together and bug out now!" Hangman watched his radar screen. His IFF showed only two planes from Ghoul flight turning back west. True to the reports, there was only three bandits on radar. The warnings in his HUD and visor started flashing.
Hangman's IFF picked up the lead bandit. His display pegged it as an F-15C. The Reds as far as he knew rarely if ever used Osean or Usean designs, instead preferring Yuktobanian or Verusan craft. These had to be mercs. Really skilled ones too, judging from how quickly they ripped up six out of eight Strike Eagles. Looking down at his radar, he nodded as he saw the blue blips of the survivors of Ghoul team headed west.
"Hangman to all Blizzard aircraft. We will engage at will once the bandits are in visual range. Engage in pairs, no single ship attacks. We may outnumber them two to one but don't get too confident or you'll end up like Ghoul team."
-
The lead F-15C was closing fast. Hangman squinted, his vision fixed on it's silhouette. He could now make out the colors. Light grey, dark blue wings along with the DPRC's red star on a blue circle. So familiar. And then it hit him. He knew where he had seen those blue wings. Back when the news was all fixated on the Belkan War, there was an Eagle, a blue winged one that was often in the skies whenever new updates on that war came in. That could only mean one thing...
"Silvereye to Blizzard team. We've gotten an ID on the bandits.."
Silvereye's words faded away as he brushed it off his attention. There was no need for official confirmation.
His opponent today was the dreaded mercenary ace pilot that the Belkans called the Demon Lord Of The Round Table. But Major Kim Jooyoung wasn't fazed. Not one bit. In the past year of fighting, none of the Red pilots he had fought had ever given him or his squadron a good enough fight and the appearance of the legendary merc pilot meant today was going to be a good day. Even if he somehow ended up losing.
"Hangman to all planes. It appears we are up against the Demon Lord himself. Stick with the rules of engagement and don't get too cocky."
His flight split into three pairs as the first salvo of missiles streaked above and below his Flanker. He and Razor sped on, both letting loose with their radar guided missiles. Ricochet and Storm dived down while Superfly and Cosmic streaked up into the clouds.
They merged with the bandits, Hangman rolling his plane at the same time the Demon Lord did, their canopies facing each other. Both pilots looking each other in the eye through their visors. They passed just feet from each other, close enough for each pilot to make out the uniform of the other. Hangman and Razor pulled their Flankers into a loop, the thrust-vectoring nozzles of their jets' exhausts allowing them to turn tighter and latched on to the blue-winged Eagle's rear, their craft spitting out burst after burst of 30mm rounds.
The blue-winged Eagle dived and rolled right, catching Cosmic's Flanker and shredding it in a long burst of gunfire while Superfly looped up, pushing the throttles as he then chased after the Eagle's number three wingman, keeping his distance so that the heatseaker missiles had a chance to lock.
"Blizzard 6. Fox two!" He loosed off an R-73 missile. The missile dropped, then roared to life a split second later, flying right above the Eagle and then detonating, catching its quarry in a flaming shower of shrapnel. As he leveled off, he managed to catch sight of a parachute. Cosmic had bailed out successfully. Looking upwards, he watched as the lead Eagle loop in an aerial imitation of a drift and let loose two missles, one clipping Razor's wing while the other went for a flare that Hangman managed to pop in time. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his nose up and sped right into the middle of the furball.
-
With two of his wingmen down, Hangman turned in the direction of the blue-winged Eagle, his finger mashing at the trigger, firing burst after burst of cannon rounds. Right above his canopy, Storm and Ricochet chased after the Eagle's remaining wingman, only for his quarry to then pull up to start pursuing them both and then effortlessly shoot down both their Flankers right as the second Eagle barrel-rolled- straight into Superfly's sights as he then peeled off and chased after him, leaving Hangman to deal with its flight lead.
The blue-winged Eagle flicked left, then right, his pursuer in the white-grey Flanker staying locked on to him, mirroring his every move while shooting off missile after missile that failed to track him properly with the high-G manuvers he was pulling. The missile alert blared non-stop in his helmet. The mercenary then flicked the stick, sending his jet into a near horizontal loop as the Flanker shot past, ending up with him on his tail as he then lined the hunted up for a missile shot.
Hangman slammed his fist on the side console, dumping out flares until an empty click told him that he was fresh out. Another missile sped at him and he pushed the nose down, diving into a cloud as the Eagle overshot him. He then turned hard, left then right, then pulled up as the missile's motor burned out.
He paused to regain his bearings. He caught sight of Superfly, still caught up on pursuing the mercenary's wingman and then he spotted his quarry, instinctively diving after said quarry like a hawk.
The Eagle turned through the clouds and Hangman followed, his Flanker's thrust vectoring capability letting him bank into the Eagle's turning radius. The Eagle flicked around and went nose up, pulling into a loop.
Hangman by now was operating on near auto-pilot. Turning off his G and angle of attack limiters, he pulled back on the stick hard while pushing the throttle forward, raising his Flanker's nose up while its tail practically skidded. His fingers pulled on the trigger. The last of the Flanker's high explosive 30mm bullets soared up, their arc making the shells slam into the airframe of the Eagle, punching through the aluminium skin and detonating, ripping the Eagle's back and wings off right as its pilot loosed off one last missile.
The burning remnants of the F-15 disintegrated right as the pilot ejected. Its missile hitting home on Hangman's Flanker, turning the sleek jet's spine and tail into twisted bits of titanium and aluminium.
Hangman didn't hear the explosion, rather he felt it as his Flanker jolted, his instruments all exploding in showers of sparks. Reaching between his legs, he pulled on the cord and was propelled out of his flaming jet as everything around him started to blur.
He opened his eyes. A cursory look at his watch told him that it had been less than a minute since he ejected. As he and his parachute drifted in the wind, he caught sight of his remaining wingman blow up the last Eagle with two well placed missile shots.
-
"Blizzard 6 to Silvereye, requesting CSAR. Looks like I'm the only one left. Everyone's managed to bail out, thank God." Superfly circled the battleground, counting the parachutes. Looking down at his instruments, he then turned around, pushing the throttle as he prepared to evacuate the battlefield, looking over his shoulder one last time as he watched his flight lead and squadron mates fall to earth.