Roger saw the signs, he knew this was about to happen. he wrenched his aircraft up to the dooming path of missiles headed for Jakko. His wait time was shorter than he could have imagined, the impact alert screamed at him as he releases all available flares.
"forget ME" Roger screams as he initiates the eject.
The barrage of missiles strikes your already badly-damaged plane, utterly destroying it. You fail to clear the blast entirely and are knocked unconscious. Fortunately your parachute deploys successfully, though you may end up landing in the jungle.
I purse the Morgenstern, hitting my afterburner as well, trying to force him to speed up to dangerous levels while having a damaged engine. I continue with controlled RAC bursts at his engines well as my last HSM.
The HSM and RAC destroy his rear horizontal stabilizer and two of his four engines, sending him on a downward path that looks like it will soon intersect with the ground.
"WHAT THE forget?!"
I have to force myself to look away from Whiskey's Self Delete attempt and maneuver my aircraft as little as necessary to keep Ansell from getting a gun solution or a solid lock, firing my guns every time the Shikra enters my sights.
"Can someone get this starfish off of my tail?"
Ugh, why does that "trick" never work for me?
You land a number of hits on the Shikra, and Ansell lands a number on you, firing off his two JSMs to try to knock you out.
(For the record, that trick never works for you because you attempt to brake to get behind the person currently trying to shoot you down. Ansell hit the brakes while you were focused on Coaxoch.)
There's a flash in my rear mirrors. Time slows to crawl, stereotypical, but true nonetheless. The tracking tone pierces my ears. An aircraft appears from below, spitting flares. It's flightpath crosses the missiles. There's a blinding flash on top of the roosterpit of the aircraft. I look away.
Whoever it is, is trying to save my life. I release my flares, and even some chaff on accident, and jink hard in effort to survive. I cut the throttle to reduce the heat signature, anything to live and not let the pilot's efforts be in vain. My throttle hand prepares to grab the ejection handle if need be.
I scream in the roosterpit. The immediate terror is beyond anything I have ever felt in my life. I hold my breath as I maneuver and jink.
A much more manageable five missiles come streaking past Whiskey's explosion. Three of them are beaten by the flares, and the other two fail to finish you off. The P3 also comes back online, though the rest of your plane seems to be falling apart.
Walter pulls up and deploys four flares
"I don't know how useful I'm going to be now, I'll try to take out the Jaguars on the squad leader though."
Walt bears down on Ansell then prepares to go ham on the LCP but stops himself to test that the gun won't explode or if the heatsinks are damaged by doing a couple short bursts.
Your flares and maneuvering prevent all but two of the missiles from reaching you, but the test of the LCP reveals that they knocked out your heat sinks. Coaxoch gives up attempting to follow you up and slings two AGMs at the ground forces instead.
Poll