Quoted By:
>[FIRE MISSILES]
<span class="mu-g">MISSILE 1: 7, 2, 8 [SUCCESS]</span>
<span class="mu-g">MISSILE 2: 2, 6, 8 [SUCCESS]</span>
<span class="mu-g"><< Zvezda 1 | Zenit >></span>
"FOX-2, FOX-2!"
Your grip tightened around the flight stick, and in rapid succession, you pressed the weapons release trigger twice. Two R-60 <span class="mu-i">Aphid</span> missiles ignited their rockets with a shrill whine and roared free from the Fulcrum's pylons. The bandit attempted to jink away, but he was too slow. The first missile struck his left wing, tearing it apart from the fuselage cleanly, followed by a hit on the fuselage itself. The Flanker was then engulfed in flames as it began spiraling down. There was no ejection, no parachute, and no sign that the pilot had made it out.
One final threat, erased.
You sank back into your seat and let out a sigh of relief. It was time to call it a day here. You then looked at your radar and saw a friendly IFF signature approaching five o'clock - <span class="mu-i">Medved</span>. His Fulcrum cruised next to you, its gray paint was sleek and pristine, as if it had just rolled off the factory floor, while yours looked like it had barely survived an artillery barrage. Scarred panels, scorched paint, creaking control surfaces. It's a miracle you've lived this far; your aircraft was practically held together by prayers and duct tape.
<span class="mu-g"><< Zvezda 2 | Medved >></span>
"Sorry I'm late, Captain. But man, look at you! You've seen better days."
<span class="mu-g"><< Zvezda 1 | Zenit >></span>
"I would have been a lot prettier if you arrived on time."
<span class="mu-g"><< Zvezda 2 | Medved >></span>
"I said sorry, didn't I?"
The two of you shared a hearty laugh over the comms. The tension that's been in every fiber of your muscle bled out in waves. The adrenaline had worn off. And the weight that's been on your shoulders began peeling away. Just for a second, it all felt light again.
Then, the radio crackled, and a voice not so forgiving in tone, came along.
<span class="mu-b"><< AWACS | Smersh >></span>
"Zenit, that was goddamn reckless! Entering combat with your aircraft in such a condition—what the hell were you thinking!? Were you asking to get killed!?"
The channel went silent. Medved didn't dare speak up and neither did you. But then, you hear something unexpected. A light scoff from Smersh. Not cold nor mocking, but cheeky. You could almost picture Smersh leaning back into his seat with a smile.
<span class="mu-b"><< AWACS | Smersh >></span>
"...But. That was some solid work. Even when the odds were stacked against you, you still pulled through."
A beat. Long enough to let the words settle.
<span class="mu-b"><< [!] AWACS | Smersh [!] >></span>
<span class="mu-b">"Great work, Zvezda Squadron. Now come on, let's go home. Your comrades are waiting for you."</span>
<span class="mu-g"><< Zvezda Squadron | Unison >></span>
"Roger!"
You and Medved flew side-by-side with your return courses set to Kiev. Though the war is not over yet, our home city's skies were finally yours. And for you, that was good enough for now.
<span class="mu-b">|| MISSION ACCOMPLISHED ||</span>
