Post by Ryu on May 25, 2011 20:50:20 GMT -5
Oneshot I put up a while back on another forum Obviously based off of Ace Combat (omg fighter jets and all that) universe, but I somewhat kept it simplistic. Constructive criticism would be cool and before anyone mentions it, yes, I know it is short even for one shot standards. ;
************************
The pilot focused his sight, but it was difficult dealing with the unclear skies of a heavy storm out at sea. He maneuvered his yellow and gray Su-33, chasing another aircraft. He wasn't sure what it was, but it didn't matter. Every fighter jet out there pretty much blew up the same way.
The plane he pursued certainly had a speed advantage, but his plane trumped it in agility. Every turn seemed almost effortless. I need to get this guy. he thought. The radio sounded frantic as everyone coordinated with each other to defeat the enemy and to get everyone back to base alive. Now and then he heard his callsign over the radio, but his mind seemed strangely numb to almost everything, stuck in a dream like trance or unbreakable concentration.
He followed his foe into a climb higher to the skies. As soon as he heard the distinctive lock on tone that buzzed through the small cramped area he was in and felt he had the proper distance, one missile sped toward the opposing plane, pushing a red button on top of the joystick. He saw a flash from a large explosion and knew what happened. "Asgard 8 here, got a kill." he reported in.
"AWACS confirms kill; good job." The cool, calm voice gave him goosebumps for a bit, still not used to a style of a Task Force that demanded and depended on so much upon an individual.
All of a sudden, it seemed that he could focus on listening again. Another voice crackled over the radio, this time a deep and charismatic one. "Heads up everyone, got a missile truck coming from the east."
He heard the warning of a missile lock on his Flanker. It quickly turned into the shrilling sound of the missile alert. He turned his plane into a dive and dropped some chaff, but the missile was too fast, turning his finely made Yuktobanian aircraft into bits of scrap metal. As he felt the impact of the missile utterly decimated his plane, he gasped in fear and quickly yanked on the eject handle. The glass canopy blew off and he was suddenly propelled upward and winced, almost deafened by rushing air. He could hardly see anything outside of the thick gray clouds.
"Asgard 8 here, plane's wasted, I ejected..." the young pilot feverishly tried his best to hide his fear as parachuted down into the churning, wild waters. Somewhere below him he heard an explosion, more than likely his plane's wreckage. A violent jerk made him feel uneasy as the parachute deployed.
The radio worked, for the last time hearing the AWACS. "Don't worry, there's gonna be a search and rescue. We'll-" It was cut short, for reasons he didn't know. He tried to ease his mind with the idea that the radio failed thanks to a short circuit.
He felt himself sink into the sea, horrified. Instincts took over as he unstrapped himself from his pilot seat and swam up the surface, treading water. He wondered whether he would die here or not as he was tossed about in the waves, hardly able to see anything in front. Should I just stay here? he thought sadly, as he held on to a hunk of steel debris.
********
************************
The pilot focused his sight, but it was difficult dealing with the unclear skies of a heavy storm out at sea. He maneuvered his yellow and gray Su-33, chasing another aircraft. He wasn't sure what it was, but it didn't matter. Every fighter jet out there pretty much blew up the same way.
The plane he pursued certainly had a speed advantage, but his plane trumped it in agility. Every turn seemed almost effortless. I need to get this guy. he thought. The radio sounded frantic as everyone coordinated with each other to defeat the enemy and to get everyone back to base alive. Now and then he heard his callsign over the radio, but his mind seemed strangely numb to almost everything, stuck in a dream like trance or unbreakable concentration.
He followed his foe into a climb higher to the skies. As soon as he heard the distinctive lock on tone that buzzed through the small cramped area he was in and felt he had the proper distance, one missile sped toward the opposing plane, pushing a red button on top of the joystick. He saw a flash from a large explosion and knew what happened. "Asgard 8 here, got a kill." he reported in.
"AWACS confirms kill; good job." The cool, calm voice gave him goosebumps for a bit, still not used to a style of a Task Force that demanded and depended on so much upon an individual.
All of a sudden, it seemed that he could focus on listening again. Another voice crackled over the radio, this time a deep and charismatic one. "Heads up everyone, got a missile truck coming from the east."
He heard the warning of a missile lock on his Flanker. It quickly turned into the shrilling sound of the missile alert. He turned his plane into a dive and dropped some chaff, but the missile was too fast, turning his finely made Yuktobanian aircraft into bits of scrap metal. As he felt the impact of the missile utterly decimated his plane, he gasped in fear and quickly yanked on the eject handle. The glass canopy blew off and he was suddenly propelled upward and winced, almost deafened by rushing air. He could hardly see anything outside of the thick gray clouds.
"Asgard 8 here, plane's wasted, I ejected..." the young pilot feverishly tried his best to hide his fear as parachuted down into the churning, wild waters. Somewhere below him he heard an explosion, more than likely his plane's wreckage. A violent jerk made him feel uneasy as the parachute deployed.
The radio worked, for the last time hearing the AWACS. "Don't worry, there's gonna be a search and rescue. We'll-" It was cut short, for reasons he didn't know. He tried to ease his mind with the idea that the radio failed thanks to a short circuit.
He felt himself sink into the sea, horrified. Instincts took over as he unstrapped himself from his pilot seat and swam up the surface, treading water. He wondered whether he would die here or not as he was tossed about in the waves, hardly able to see anything in front. Should I just stay here? he thought sadly, as he held on to a hunk of steel debris.
********