Project Top Gunman: Ace Combat

Chapter 2: Get Fooled again (Mission 5)

(A/N) play the music

With the fake runway burning, guards and ground crew were running around, trying to get the other prisoners in their planes and in line.

Trigger looked at the chaos with a raised eyebrow and a judging stare. Then when back to applying duct tape to secure his dad's radio of to the side of his seat. They were already in line, he was just waiting for orders.

Prez spoke up. ("The hell is this! We're under attack assholes! Get a move on!") She shook her fist at the nearest plane. The SU-33 from before, with the tophat painted on the tail. The pilot had finally sat down and closed his canopy.

Trigger's helmet radio crackled to life. He double checked the volume and waited.

ATC: "Follow orders Trigger! Taxi to the runway now."

He frowned, The ATC was gruff and rude as hell. But what could he expect? A change in the norm? Maybe, maybe not. He just got the F-16XL moving forward, usually this would be in sync with other squad members....But, this was a penal unit. No one was in sync. He went to check the altimeter as just ordered.

Prez: Altimeters checked, all showing seventy-five feet of elevation and altitude indicator holding stable."

Trigger turned and looked behind him.

She turned and tapped at a few other instruments. ("Compass, check." She nods to Trigger. "Airspeed indicator...slightly fluctuating. But we're moving already because we have to follow orders.") She glared at the Control tower. Then looked back to Trigger.

Prez:"We're all set."

Trigger gave a thumbs up, then turned back. Switching the radio so they were on the squad frequency.

Count: Control, would you kindly send me up first."

The squad radio marked the speaker as Count, Spare 2. He sounded tired and bored.

Trigger guessed it was because he'd done this many times before. He turned onto the runway and kept in line. He frowned when he saw that chaos had returned. Then his head snapped left. ("SHIT!") He changed direction fast.

Prez squawked in surprise behind him.

Champ had muscled his way onto the runway, completely out of line, almost hitting a squad member's plane.

ATC:"Spare Eight! Champ! This is the control tower." "You are not cleared for take off! Obey orders!"

Champ: Go to hell!

ATC: "All Aircraft preparing for take off, watch for Spare Eight! He's forcing a takeoff!"

Prez just huffed. ("Oh now you tell us! Could have mentioned that earlier!")

("I'll take up command. Any objections?") Count spoke up once more.

Trigger just looked hopelessly at the blue camo SU-33. There wasn't a chain of command.

Trigger's Mind: No actual flight lead, and no formation. Also, no one to tell him what to do.

Prez tilted her head at him. ("Whats up Trigger? Did I miss something?") She started looking around the cockpit, checking the instruments once more.

Then the radio crackled to life once more, Spare 11, Tabloid. ("That'll get decided in the skies.")

Count: Touché.