Beauty to Beast [Open]

[Deleted]

Beautiful red rays of light cascaded down from the setting sun, and reflected off the low clouds that hung lazily over a small airfield in France. Trees on a small hill where silhouetted against the failing light, giving the area a pleasant and peaceful view of the dieing day. It would have a been a perfect sunset where it not interrupted by the clanging and cursing echoing out of the hanger on the end of the runway. The hanger was filled with aircraft, mostly P 40E’s and P 47’s. They where sitting quietly and calmly, their guns and engines silent as they slept. But from under the nose of one P 47 came a clang and a stream of very colourful curses, most of it cursing the German who had put a round into the engine of the P 47.

Sam Coller swore again as he gripped his spanner, giving it a hard push to try and loosen a bolt.
“Damn these Germans!” He shouted as he gave one last push, with a scream of twisting metal the bolt came loose, and he managed to remove it from the housing. He threw it into a small bin along with a few other bent and broken bolts, they where useless now. With a grunt he lifted a section of fuselage free, the centre of witch had a large hole punched though it. He threw the sheet of scrap aside and examined the damage. Before him was a Pratt and Whitney R-2800 Double Wasp two-row, 18 cylinder, air cooled radial engine with a displacement of 2,804 in³. A truly inovative work of art and as far as Sam was concerend, twice as beautiful as any old sunset.

That’s why Sam let out a small sob when his eyes fell on the damage that had been done to his beauty. The bullet had smashed the carburettor, witch reduced the amount of air and fuel the engine was able to intake, this caused the engine to overheat quickly and lose power. Thankfuly the aircraft was on its way back when it was ambushed, and the fighers wingmen where able to deal with the pesky German Messerschmitt’s. If the airfield was any further or the pilot had tried to join the fight this plane would not have made it back, luckily the pilot was able to practically glide the fighter in.

Looking over the damage Sam was surprised that the fuel line hadn’t ignited and sent flames into the tanks, the pilot was extremely lucky. Sam was actually quiet shocked at how little damage there was, he climbed up a service ladder and examined the carburettor. The bullet was still jammed in the metal, which would have acted as a plug, slowing the leak of fuel. He removed the hoses and fuel lines, and put a tag on each so he could refit them properly to the new carburettor when he put it in. Then by releasing the nuts that held it to the intake manifold he lifted it clear of the engine. So simple, so easy.

He took the device over to his workbench and flicked on an overhead light. Now he would need to find a replacement, he set it down on the bench and started walking along the shelves lining the walls, he found spare gaskets and pistons, engine cylinders, spark plugs, crankshafts and a whole assortment of odds and ends that fit together to give man flight. He eventually found a new carburettor and took it back to the bench, comparing the two only to discover they where two very different models. He left both on the bench and continued his search, if he couldn’t find the proper one he might be able to fit the new one in anyway.

[Nathan Whyte]

With a light crosswind, left to right, the P-40E shook slightly as the pilot brought it on to finals. Inside the cockpit, Kiwi held the joystick firmly with one hand, and gave the left rudder-pedal occasional kicks, keeping the aircraft in a relatively straight line. He was the first person in his flight coming down for the landing. Machine guns, bombs and fuel all depleted, the combat sortie had been a success, with what must have been an entire company of German tanks out of action.

The ground rushed up, and Kiwi quickly shook the wings – if the landing gear hadn’t fallen out of position he wouldn’t know, so this ensured it deployed. Holding the nose a few degrees in the air, the two main wheels touched the ground, squealing in protest quickly before turning fast enough to support the fighter. Kiwi pushed the throttle so it was almost closed as the back wheel touched the ground, and directed himself off the tarmac, over the grass and towards the hangars.

He turned around next to the hangar, nose pointing towards the runway. He pulled the fuel mix all the way to empty, and after a few moments the engine choked to death. He flicked off the dynamos and slid the canopy open. Removing the flight-cap which was connected to the radio and unbuckling his seatbelt, he let out a long, low whistle. That had been a ride and a half, no doubt. German anti-aircraft fire was heavy at the moment, and despite persistent high-altitude bombings, there had been little effect in silencing it. Whilst Kiwi hadn’t been hit, he had had a few close calls, and the rest of the flight hadn’t been so lucky.

He climbed out, stepping on the wing then on to the ground, glad to not have his entire body being shaken by an engine. A Corporal was dashing about, throwing chocks under the wheels and organising a fuel bowser to make the aircraft ready to fly. He began walking towards the hangar, removing leather gloves and unzipping the leather flight jacket. It had to be said, this American uniform wasn’t half bad. The jacket certainly looked good and it went quite far in local bars.

It took him a few moments to adjust the dim conditions of the hangar, the brilliant sunlight from outside not entirely making their way in to the large room. Cursing and clanging filled the air, and Kiwi smiled, making his way over to a workbench. He raised his voice, and used the pilots call sign as a greeting.”Hello there, Kookaburra!”

[Matthew Graham]

Another night that Matthew would have to spend staying awake waiting for more planes to drop down on the airstrip. You see his job, when he wasn’t in the sky, was to watch over his bunk until all of the people form that area were in the sleeping shack themselves. Tonight, though, there was one person Matthew was waiting for in particular. A man that wasn’t in his sleeping quarters or anything but a pilot that was of the same rank and relatively the same age and had just gone of onto a mission. Matthew had just met him before he had left and was curious to learn a bit more about him. The way he saw it, every pilot should get to know each other a bit because you never know who is going to be your wingman come time for missions.

Matthew looked out of the doorway and into the horizon where he began to watch the sun set. It was a very dark shade of orange and red those made the whole sky look beautiful. Not only was that but there little to no cloud cover above him which just made Matthew think about the clear night that would follow the sun setting. He let out a breath and thought to himself Going to get a good nights sleep tonight.

Though Matthew was in mid thought he was suddenly interrupted by the low roar of an aircraft engine. He listened to it for a little bit before finally figuring out it was a P40E Warhawk. Matthew knew there wasn’t too many of them around the flight base so therefore he automatically assumed it was Kiwi. Just the fighter pilot he was looking for.

Matthew proceeded to the Hanger that it began to make it’s way into with a bit of a hop in his step. He had some excitement to meet a new pilot and be able to hold a conversation with him that wouldn’t be interrupted by a mission of some sort. Matthew had no night raids, bombings, or even any scouting missions for tonight. Tonight was a time for him to hang out around the base and get some paperwork done also. But like always that was pushed off to the side for “a later time”.

Matthew had finally made it into the Hangar when he looked around and saw some pilots working on planes and such. It was mainly ground crew that had taken part in these aircraft checkups but there were a few pilots in there. One that had caught his attention though was a man he had gone onto an evening drop with a few days back, Sam Coller. From what he had with him Matthew thought of him as a pretty decent guy.

As Matthew Approached Sam he noticed the new pilot to him walk up and say something to Sam. He couldn’t make out what he said so he just proceeded towards the two men. Laying a hand on Sam’s shoulder Matthew spoke up Damn you handed in your wings and joined the ground crew already? Matthew chuckled a bit and looked up to the new face. He stuck out his hand and greeted the man Matthew Graham, Nice to meet you.

[Deleted]

Sam was finding it difficult to find the parts he needed in the fading light of the sun. He walked over to a wall and found a torch, flicking it on and sending the beam of light over the shelves. The light reflected off the assortment of parts and equipment. He picked up a piston and examined it, wiping its smooth surface clean of dirt and shining the light on it. He always got sidetracked whenever he was looking for parts, things caught his attention and instead of searching for what he needed he ended up sifting though piles of odds and ends and just examining things, taking them apart and putting them back together. He was a born grease monkey. He put the piston in his pocket as he continued his search, but picked up an alternator for a jeep and rolled it around in his hands, checking the fans and connecters. He could see no reason to pull it to bits so he disappointedly put it back on the shelf.

A voice cut though his tinkering, and a man stood silhouetted in the large entrance to the hanger. Sam walked forward and put the piston on his workbench, he recognised the voice and brought his touch up, the light fell over a set of flight boots and trailed up a pair standard issue pants before reflecting off a very handsome flight jacket and coming to rest on features of Nathan Whyte. With a smile Sam lowered the torch.
”G’day Kiwi.” Sam said, also calling the pilot by his call sign. “How was the flight of the flightless bird?”
Sam said as he turned back to his workbench, he picked up the piston and looked at it again, he had no clue as to why he brought it back to the bench; he shrugged and put it to one side before picking up the new carburettor and examining it more closely to see if he could fit it to the R-2800.

A hand on his shoulder caught his attention and he fumbled the carburettor, almost dropping it. Where it not for his quick reflexes he would have been searching the shelves again. He turned to the owner of the hand and grinned at Matthew Graham, call sign Ikura.
“You know, sometimes I prefer the company of the ground crew to the pilots, they don’t have their head in the clouds.” He joked, it was good to see Matthew again, since the night drop a few days back he hadn’t seen much of the fighter pilot. He turned his attention back to his prize, even though the carburettor was a different model to the one he needed, it wouldn’t be too difficult to make a few adjustments and the new part would slot in quite easily. He picked up a cloth and began cleaning the dust from it as Ikura introduced himself to Kiwi.

[Nathan Whyte]

Kiwi turned, lifting himself up to sit on the bench beside where Sam was working. He picked up the carburettor to the let, twisting it so he could see what was wrong with it. The large bullet hole in the side of it was rather obvious, an ugly scar in the metal destroying the otherwise flawless precision of the machine. "Now there's your problem," he muttered, placing it back on the bench, making sure it was far enough away so no oil or grime got on his uniform. Major Patterson would murder him if he besmirched the uniform of the United States Army.

"Wasn't too bad up there," he said, watching as Sam walked between the rows of spare parts, "I reckon I nailed a tank, but the entire Flight did some good damage. End of the day, job well done. We couldn't do anything about that Ack-Ack, though." Nathan rolled his eyes, without thinking he'd slipt back in to using RAF slang, Ack-Ack being the accepted term for Anti-Aircraft fire. Watching as a piston was discretly hidden in Coller's pocket, he laughed, calling out "I hope you're going to pay for that, bloody Australian thief."

Another pilot entered, cutting short the banter of the two Southern pilots. It was somebody that Nathan knew only from passing, Matthew "Ikura" Graham. Nathan dropped a hand, tightly gripping Ikura's and shaking it. "Nathan Knight, Kiwi. How've you been doing, Graham?" He ran his eyes up and down the newcomer. Dressed in the uniform, it made a job of trying to hide some rather well defined upper-body muscles. With wide shoulders and a flat nose, it was obvious that he'd played some sort of contact sport rather competitively, maybe Boxing, or more likely American Football. It was a sport Americans had something of an obsession with, but Nathan could only laugh at it. Spending five minutes preparing for thirty seconds of play was a waste of time, Rugby by on the other hand, was so much faster, aggressive and fun to play.

Noticing the uniform cap on Graham's head, Nathan grudgingly reached to his belt and sat his own on, now he was in a hangar there was no excuse not to wear the soft cover. And if an officer walked in and he was obliged to salute, there would be no way for him to complete the manouvre - nobody saluted without headgear. It was no different than the RAF or the fledgling RNZAF, but it was an irk all the same. He looked between the two pilots before hi, before kicking up some conversation with the ever-faithful, "So how much action have you two seen around here, then?"

[Matthew Graham]

There was a much defined smell to the hanger as grease and many aircraft parts were letting off some fumes. Matthew loved being able to watch the work In process by the other pilots and ground crew as they would always take much care of their planes. He knew that the aircraft kept them in the air and also saved the lives of pilots all the time. Treat you plane like it is you girl at home.

Matthew nodded to what the young pilot had said about the Carburetor. A bullet hole to one of them and your going to be spitting out fluids like crazy. It was simple what the piece did. It added the air from outside of the gas flow into the gas that was flowing through the pipes. When it was finished mixing together it would make a very flammable mixture. When this is burned it creates the energy to keep the engine running. Without one you’re going to just be sitting around on the airstrip not moving at all, and also looking like a fool.

Matthew looked at the new and very young pilot and answered him back Amen to that. Have you gotten a new one? I sure could lend you a hand. Matthew smiled and let out a bit of a chuckle. Matthew knew when to have fun and joke around a bit, especially since he hadn’t seen action in a few days. Turning back to Nathan he nodded and answered his question. Well you tell me, I haven’t been in the air in almost three days. Marvelous mood I have. He laughed at his sarcasm and continued to look at him.

It turned out his call sign was Kiwi. Matthew was unsure on how in the world someone would get the call sign of Kiwi but he stuck with it. For all he knew Nathan could think that the call sign of Matthew, Ikura, was a bit odd. Therefore Matthew kept his mouth shut about the call sign and continued on with the conversation.

Next Matthew heard the question of Nathan “Kiwi” White. Matthew let out a bit of a chuckle and then looked down at Sam to see if he would say anything first. Noticing that he didn’t Matthew went on to answer Nathan. Well a few days ago, Coller and I went on a lil night raid. He paused to clear his throat before finishing his sentence Other then that, I myself haven’t been in the sky for a few days. Eager to get back up there.

[Deleted]

Sam nodded as Kiwi told him about his flight, he was always happy to hear of successful attacks. Especially when his mates made it home in one piece. He let out a small chuckle at Kiwi’s comment of the anti-air, bloody Kiwi’s, and for comment on paying for the piston, he replied with a sly smile.
“What can I say, born of a convict island.” He said, refereeing to Australia’s founding by convict colonists. The whole country had been built around the outcasts of the world, and now they where a major part of it, especially after the gold rush.

He continued cleaning the new part, he only wished he could have found the correct model as it would have made installing it much easier. As Ikura told him of their paratrooper drop a few nights ago Kookaburra climbed once again up to the engine of the P47. It was not his aircraft, but he was friends with the pilot and he wanted to make sure that it was restored back to its top performance. He examined the fuel pipe and sat the new carburettor in it place, testing to see it all the pipes would reach. He needed to extend the fuel line but everything else would fit in almost perfectly. He dropped down and searched the shelves again. He could hear that Ikura had stopped telling Kiwi about the late night flight and spoke up from behind the shelves, the light from his touch showing his location.

“I had a scouting mission a short while ago, flew over the town of Amiens and took a few photos. A Wirbelind almost swatted my little Grasshopper from the skies, but we managed to get the photos back to a ground commander. He wants me to lead a bombing run on the town but has yet to give me a call.” He examined a section of tubing under the light, then threw it back and continued his search. He found the piece he was after and came back from the shelves into the better light. He checked the tube for any damage before climbing back up to the engine, easily removing the old one and fitting the longer one on.

“Oh, and Matthew’s being a bit modest by simplifying the ‘night raid’ the other night. He and his squad managed to bomb a section of the German front lines.” He looked down at the pilots below him, and his thoughts from that mission came back to him, these men where fighter pilots, they aimed their guns at those they intended to kill. They took life deliberately, while Sam had mostly flown bombers and transports. Oh what a great addition to the war effort he was, he almost felt ashamed in their presence. But that would change soon; Sam’s Kookaburra was ready and waiting for its first mission. No more would he sit in massive flying birds with targets painted on them, his next flight would be in the cockpit of a fighter with its sights glued to the tail of a German.

He shook his dreams from mind and reached for his tool belt that hung from his waist. Gripping a sharp scraper he removed the old gasket material and cleaned the area to a nice shine. Both the carburettor and its new housing were clean and ready to be fixed together, he applied the new gasket and coated it in sealant. He put the new part in placed and tightened it into the intake manifold. It had a perfect seal and would serve the aircraft well.

“Other then the flight you just came in from Kiwi, what else has the flightless bird been up too?”

[Nathan Whyte]

Nathan just shook his head at the mention of the Grasshopper. ”Why would you willingly fly that thing over enemy territory? Fight Li- Captain Norris has an observation Spitfire somewhere. Twice the speed and it can actually move when the Krauts start trying to whack you out the sky. Hell, even a Thunderbolt would have been nicer to fly in.” If Kookaburra hadn’t have climbed on top of a Thunderbolt, Nathan would have quiet happily reached up and whacked him around the top of the head. Instead, he satisfied by grabbing a stool from under the mechanics desk and dragging it over to the plane, settling himself down to continue the conversation.

Turning his attention to Graham, he raised his eyebrows. ”What did they have you flying over the lines? Flying Fortresses? I’ve never been put in one of those before.” He trailed off, thinking about his experience. Tiger Moths, through to Hurricanes. Then Spitfires and now to Warhawks. He’d done a brief stint flying Albemarles, but that wasn’t his thing, he was a natural fighter pilot, and, at the risk of sounding big headed, he knew it was something that he was good at.

Realising the warmth in the hangar, Kiwi removed his heavy sheepskin flying jacket, hanging it off the chair and climbing on to the Thunderbolt’s wing, to look at what Kookaburra was doing. By now, he was scraping the gasket clean, but without any tools Kiwi just stood there and watched. ”What have I been up to? Nothing much, really, they’ve had me doing a load of paperwork recently, now we’re overseas it should change, though. But yeah, training flights, paperwork, and making sure the new pilots know which end’s there arse and which end is their head.”

[Matthew Graham]

The sun was beginning to make its mid Evening cast down on the hangers causing the metal walls and roof to bake the insides like an oven. No one really thought of it to be too hot in Europe but it was and it did. It wasn’t exactly something everyone was too fond of but they dealt with it. Nothing major but some sweat and grease to grow some hair on your chest.

Matthew watched as the two other pilots began to conversant a bit. Sam had told Kiwi what had really happened with him and his flight crew which made him feels a bit better. A half of a smile flew quickly across Matthew’s face before Kiwi began to talk about his recent activity. It must have been nice to fly the planes that he did. It must have been nice to be in the Air Force for as long as he was. Matthew dreamed of being a pilot like him for Kiwi was well respected around the hangars and if you ever had any trouble with your flying abilities or need a quick training flight he was the man for you.

Shaking those thoughts from his head Matthew made his way over towards the rack of spare parts and tools. Fumbling around with a few things he waited for Kiwi to stop talking so that Matthew had his turn to speak. That’s how things worked around here. It was something called respect for your elders that was hard for the new guys to learn. ”Hey Kiwi, have you seen those missiles that have been come in for the P-47’s? I haven’t had the chance to use them but have not ‘eard of anyone that has.” Matthew knew if someone around here had used them it would’ve been Nathan as he was the most well rounded pilot in the base. He flew just about nearly anything.

[Deleted]

Sam shook his head at Kiwi’s question. ‘I was ordered to fly it, some higher power thought it would be nice and inconspicuous and due to its light engine wouldn’t be heard at a good altitude. Even then I couldn’t understand why they wanted me to fly the clacker of a hopper over a town suspected of having heavy anti-air defences, and no matter how much I spit the dummy they wouldn’t have it. We where almost cactus when we landed, damn anti-air nearly got us, I’m surprised the hopper made it back to the dirt actually.’ He stopped what he doing and pointed the scraper at Kiwi, ‘But if I ever have to do it again, I’m giving you a call first to see if I get my mitts on one of those spitfires you mentioned.’

As Kiwi asked Ikura about what he flew, the mention of the Boeing B-17 “Flying Fortress” sent his imagination off, as blueprints and images of the four Pratt & Whitney R-1609 “Hornet” radial engines raced though his mind. He had never gotten his hands on a hornet before, but he had studied the prints and maps of the engines. He would love to be in control of the 750 horsepower that each engine put out, but as Ikura spoke his trance was broken, and he shook his head clear. When Ikura didn’t answer Sam answered for him. ‘Nothing like that Kiwi, Mat and his squad where flying escort for me in P-47’s. I had the honour of flying a C-47 for a drop of paratroopers.’

He went back to his work, ensuring all the bolts where as tight as could be; he connected the remaining gas lines and vacuum tubes before giving everything another wipe down. He grinned as his friend climbed up to watch him work, Sam loved tinkering with engines. All his life he’d had his hands buried in the mechanical workings of one engine or another, and only actually flying the aircrafts he worked on gave him the thrill he got from working under them. His grin broke into a wide smile as Kiwi told him about his boring assignments. ‘Paper work and training drongos? Your pulling my leg, they’ve got one of the most experienced pilots behind a desk and holding the hands of some bloody galahs who haven’t learnt to fly yet. They could have found someone else for that couldn’t they?’

At the mention of the new HVAR rockets for the P-47’s Sam smiled, he loved new upgrades and when ever he learned of one he made it a personal mission to find out everything he could about them. The older FFAR rockets where fine for hitting still or slow moving targets, but for smacking out a tank or something that was actually moving they just didn’t cut it. The FFAR’s where too slow and didn’t have the kick they needed. The new HVAR’s on the other hand where a different story all together. Carrying 21 kg of a high explosive warhead and with a top speed of 410 meters a second, the new rockets could catch up with anything, plus it also meant the pilot didn’t have to lead the target so much and the target had less time to predict the path of the rocket and move out of the way. Sam loved his job.

[Nathan Whyte]

"Most experienced pilot? Don't complement me, it goes straight to my head!" He gave a small laugh, only half joking. It was a tad ridiculous, bearing in mind the severity of the combat having one of the more experienced "front line" pilots doing paperwork and teaching the new guys, but there was some sense in having the newbies taught by an experienced hand. Might actually give them a fighting chance.

Kiwi had had a long RNZAF career, enlisting first as an engineer, before taking the chance to be taken up as a Sergeant Pilot. He was then transferred to No. 485 (NZ) Squadron, RAF, as a Spitfire pilot, where his first foray of combat was found in the Battle of Britain. Once American joined the war, he was sent 'on loan' to the 3ID, which was where he still was now. This meant he had a far share of experience, and was regarded by others as a very knowledgable airman. So, at the end of the day, he could see the logic of being put in charge of the "flight" of basics. The term was used loosely, whilst there was some competent ones, others would stand no chance against the Luftwaffe.

"Yeah, I've heard all about these HVAR's, haven't had chance to use them yet. It's something I want to look in to, actually, they would be quite useful, maybe a bit easier for tank kills than the bombs. But then again, I'm starting to get used to these things now. I dunno." He trailed off, thinking to himself how perverted it was that the best minds in the world now were currently working on new and better ways to kill each other. It was a slightly scary technology, being able to destroy a heavily armoured tank by firing what was basically a glorified firework at it. But then again, he had to do that to stop the tank going and destroying his friends and the other millions of people relying on the war in Europe to be an Allied victory.

[Matthew Graham]

[[OOC: Sorry about the short length, i just wanted to get it up and have used up damn near all my muse for today.]]

Matthew listened to the pilots speak back and forth, of course Sam came out with a compliment. He was a kind guy like that, no matter what you did or who you were he would always compliment you. Though Matthew never understood this because it wasn’t exactly the best of things to compliment someone on killing another man. It was actually a bit disturbing to hear stories of people being excited and glad to kill people.

Matthew shook these ideas as Kiwi began to speak up again. As he was talking Matthew walked over to the rack of parts and found a wooden stool sitting on the floor. He grabbed a hold of it and dragged it towards the two other men and sat down listening to Kiwi finish. Matthew smiled a bit as he said he was used to using bombs. Matthew let out a chuckle and spoke up ”I think I’d rather use a rocket that is propelled to the target and not just dropping down due to gravity. Makes no since that you should rely on gravity to hit the target or not.”

Matthew paused a bit and let that soak into the two men before speaking up again ”Although whatever you prefer, go ahead and use it. Don’t listen to me. After all I’m just a new guy compared to your self” Matthew said referring to Kiwi. He had been around for years now as Matthew had only been flying for about seven months. He was apart of the ground crew when he was first in the Military, never even thinking he would get the chance to fly an Aircraft in the air yet.

[Deleted]

(OOC: Sorry for the late reply, been busy and unmotivated)

Sam smiled at Kiwi’s attempt at humility; he knew the man enjoyed the compliments. But Sam didn’t give them just to be a nice guy, he gave compliments where they where deserved and should someone make a stupid mistake he wouldn’t let them forget about it anytime soon. The way Sam looked at it was if someone did their job well you let them know it, he practiced this because far too many people only commented on the mistakes. Sure Kiwi was only doing his job in bombing a few tanks but he completed his mission and made it back without a casualty, as far as Sam was concerned that deserved some positive feedback. Same with Ikura, he opened a hole in the German front lines without taking a single round of enemy flak; that too deserved a compliment. Mistakes happen in battle and most of the time its just bad luck, but if something goes wrong that someone could have easily avoided then they deserved to be chewed out. Punish mistakes, reward success, that was Sam’s way.

He continued smiling at Kiwi. ‘You’re right, a head that big doesn’t need to be any bigger, you’ll fall over.’ He smiled some more but didn’t laugh. He hated people who laughed at their own jokes. Sam just listened as the two pilots started talking about rockets and bombs and what was the better of the two. The advantages of the new rockets where they could be aimed easier, travel faster and they packed enough of a punch that if they hit the side or even a thin section of front armour on tank it would do enough damage to eliminate the threat. A bomb on the other hand, could easily carry a larger explosive payload, and even an indirect hit could damage and potentially immobilize a tank. Of course the downside of the bombs where they relied on a precise drop to be of any real use.

At Mathews comment Sam stopped what he was doing and looked down at him from his perch on the fighter. ‘You shouldn’t be so straight edge Ikura, after all, variety is the spice of death.’ Sam grinned down at him before turning back to the engine and inspecting his work over, unlike almost everyone one else Sam had met, he didn’t worry too much about the fact that humanities greatest minds where hard at work creating devilish devices that could kill other humans with only the twitch of a finger. That’s why Sam wanted to get behind the stick of a fighter rather then in a bomber, that way he would be the one not only lining up the targets, but taking the shot as well, and he wouldn’t just be dropping a bomb. His bullets would rip though the air with murderous intent and Sam would watch as his targets where shredded, Sam knew that mankind was violent, it was who they where. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the peaceful and pleasant things in life, and he lived by an honour code all of his own. Show respect, know your friends, and don’t gamble with other people’s money.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Coller - 8CP

Whyte - 6CP

Graham - 6CP

-JT