"forget!"
Spikes from the annular blast-frag warhead tear into the Talon's fuselage. Dozens of warnings light up all over the dashboard, accompanied by the dire voice of a Mercanan woman. Grating noises reverberate across the aircraft as the intakes swallow shrapnel. Louder than any of those things, however, was the wail of the missile approach warning tone.
Two missile trails materialize out of the gunship's weapons bay, forming the sharp curves that only a thrust-vectoring all-aspect missile could draw. Richard could clearly see that one of those missiles was meant for him. At this distance, there's no doubt that the rocket motor will still be burning. The Talon's fate is sealed.
Richard could only watch as the final instrument of his demise races towards his craft, waiting what seems to be an eternity for the inevitable to occur. A slow, inevitable death. Tlacelel could have won this fight ages ago. He was merely toying with them. The thought of that made Richard burn on the inside. Tears stream down his face. He had failed. He failed in killing him then, and he has failed in killing him now. He'd gone about everything all wrong, all because he tried to cater to his own selfish needs.
Gods damn! What I'd give to see that forgetface suffer! But how? With the squadron exhausted as it is now, it'll be virtually impossible to defeat him. There's nothing left...
The critical reaction temperature lights silently flash on the annunciator panel.
No. There's one more thing.
"... Crash," Richard calls out with an eerie calmness, "I'm going to appoint you the new actual." He pushes the lever forward past the overdrive detent. "Before I do, I have one last order for all of you." The Talon groans as it weaves around on its path to the Sky Marshall's roosterpit.
"Get as far away from the gunship as you can."
Poll