Grimoires and Gunsmoke

As Captain Wu pulled his aircraft alongside the rest of his flight, his radio crackled back to life as the Airborne Early Warning and Control (AWACS) transmitted orders to his headset. "All Skunk elements, ascend to angels 25, vector 2-2-0, maintain formation. Vul time, Vul time.”

Wu felt his heartbeat echoed in his ears while gripping his flight stick tighter. Vul time or Vulnerability Time, was such an oddly poetic term for such a lethal context. In its essence, it refers to the period when one's forces were most exposed to adversary action, the window where risk was at its peak.

Even after just taking off, they were already in range to engage these dragons or whatever the hell they were with long-range missiles. The F-16's advanced radar systems and other sensors worked in synchrony, offering a high-resolution view of the airspace ahead. A swirl of colorful indicators and graphics painted his multi-functional displays, each symbol representing a different aircraft or projectile, friend or foe.

The AWACS continued to relay vital information, their overarching view of the battle space invaluable in these trying moments. "Skunk 1, Darkstar, group bearing 2-2-0, 30, 28,000, hot hostile.” The AWACS code named Darkstar relayed the bearing, range, altitude and aspect of the enemy in the sky. “All players, weapons free.”

Wu's eyes snapped to the radar screen as his hand instinctively moved to the weapon control system. He scanned the screen, identifying the group the AWACS referred to. He visualized the skies from the coordinates relayed, knowing the hostile targets were marked and verified by the AWACS in real-time.

“Copy that Darkstar, vector 2-2-0, 28,000, 30, hot hostile.” Wu's voice was firm over the radio. His F-16 banked sharply, aligning its path with the mentioned vector. The other members of Skunk flight followed suit, their jet trails painting intricate patterns in the sky.

“Puke 1, north group, 32,000, 36,000, hot hostile.” The radio crackled to life again as the AWACS unstructured other unseen flights.

Captain Wu and his flight were now fully meshed within the battle's intricate network, the communications channel turned into a flurry of directives, confirmations, and updates, each pilot a node within this complex web of airborne warfare.

From the sound of things it was a complete free for all everywhere from 10,000 to 40,000 feet with every wing on the east coast joining in on the fray. The multitude of AWACS aircraft were trying to maintain control of the situation, but it was more akin to trying to control kites in a storm.

The alien entities, with their agile and unpredictable movements, were defying traditional combat strategies, leaving even the most seasoned pilots baffled. The best solution was to keep their distance and snipe the little shits from the skies, but they had to close in for the merge to keep those bastards off the ground forces.

Captain Wu’s eyes darted back and forth between the radar screen and the screen of the integrated battle network. Everyone and their mom was here or already on their way. The F-35s, embedded in their various roles, were exploiting their advanced sensor suites to act as command and control, providing targeting solutions for everyone while sniping away at these things themselves.

And soon, his own aircraft were provided targeting solutions, all focused on the giant golden fucker twirling in the sky.

“Skunk 1, Fox 3.”

“Skunk 2, Fox 3.”

“Skunk 3, Fox 3.”

“Skunk 4, Fox 3.”

As the callsigns echoed in his ears at the same time, Captain Wu felt the familiar jolt of his F-16 releasing its payload. The advanced AIM-120 AMRAAMs, a quartet of radar-guided death, hurtled into the skies, homing in on the golden beast.

The flights watched as the missiles disappeared in the distance only to have the gargantuan golden monster snap his head and liquify the damn things with its molten breath. This was not unexpected, but it was still frustrating. They had repeated the same song and dance for hours now and it had seemed that every one of these damned things had built in Radar Warning Receivers or RWRs.

But as they flew closer to the fray, Captain Wu and his flight were forced to switch targets. “Skunk 1 north group, maneuver.” He instructed his flight his intentions as he banked right towards a cluster of smaller dragons that were attempting to break through the main formation, desperately trying to break off and provide support for their struggling ground forces.

But the flight of F-16’s weren’t going to allow any of them to do as they pleased as they sped through the turbulent skies, their radar systems locked onto the smaller, serpentine entities below. Captain Wu's eyes were glued to his heads-up display (HUD), watching as the targeting reticles aligned with the swiftly moving opponents. The HUD displayed range, speed, and estimated impact time, constantly adjusting with each minuscule movement of the dragons.

“Skunk 1 Fox 3, northern, north group, 22,000” Captain Wu intoned calmly into his headset, feeling the shudder as another AMRAAM disengaged from the aircraft’s underbelly, hurtling towards its target. The rest of his flight followed suit, their own missiles screaming through the atmosphere, leaving behind trails of white smoke as they rushed towards their targets at slightly different altitudes.

Time seemed to stand still as the missiles streaked through the sky towards the massive monsters as they twisted and turned in an attempt to avoid the oncoming destruction. The pilots watched as the missiles struck true with each of their targets jerking and screeching in pain. One of the dragons went limp and fell from the sky as the others snapped their attention to the oncoming F-16’s.

In the cramped cockpit of his F-16, Skunk 2, also known as Lieutenant Kara “Pampers” Bell, watched her radar screen as the dragons turned to meet their assault.

As the dragons turned to face the oncoming jets, their heat signatures bloomed on his infrared detection system, their immense bodies throwing off heat like volcanic eruptions. They closed in fast, too fast for comfort, and Bell’s hand moved with practiced ease as he prepared to engage. The screen split, one side showing the thermal signatures, the other a more conventional radar view. He noticed the creatures moving in formations that seemed almost strategic, almost military.

“Fox 3, fox 3, northern bound, north group, 24,000!” The woman called out as she let loose another AMRAAM. “Heads up, north group, turning hot!”

“Skunk 1, tally, two dragons, left eleven high!” Wu’s voice crackled over the comms as he alerted his wingman to the incoming threat dropping down from the left. “Skunk 2 anchor, bullseye 2-7-0, 2 miles, 24,000!!”

Captain Wu barked through the radio, his eyes darting between his HUD and his battle management system. “Skunk 1, merge, hostile dragon!!”

The call to ‘merge’ was a cue that they were in the thick of it now. It marked the phase where radar screens turned into a kaleidoscope of swirling icons, a swirl of friends and foes whirling in a chaotic aerial ballet. The skies were alive with the roars of jet engines, the snarl of dragons, and the staccato blasts of cannon fire.

“Skunk 2 break left, flare! Skunk 2 your 6 o’clock, low, 1 mile, bandits on you! Skunk 3 press!” Captain Wu struggled to continue to issue commands as his aircraft banked sharply, trying to keep visual on Bell as she dumped flares in hopes to distract the beast.

“Skunk 3 is engaged!” Skunk 3 replied as they’re F-16 afterburners lit up the night sky and it turned sharply, trying to get a lock on one of the dragons chasing Bell while his wingman slotted in behind the other. “Skunk 3, Fox 2!”

However, noticing it was being targeted, the trailing beast used its incredible agility and acceleration to dodge, leaving the missile to sail off into the void. The dragon then shifted its course with an otherworldly speed, doubling back to charge straight at Skunk 4 as they maneuvered to line up a missile.

“Skunk 4, break! Break right, break right, now!” Lieutenant Bell's urgent shout pierced the radio, a desperate bid to alert the vulnerable pilot.

But it was a fraction of a second too late. Skunk 4’s F-16 banked hard to the right, engines screaming as it tried to escape the incoming wrath. The dragon, a maelstrom of scales and wings, belched a torrent of plasma-like fire. The ethereal blue flame surged through the night air, a streak of deadly brilliance honing in on the scrambling jet.

Skunk 4’s aircraft was engulfed. The plasma fire enveloped the plane, the heat immediately slagging the cockpit. The once sleek and angular jet transformed into a molten wreck in milliseconds. The canopy bubbled and warped, sealing the pilot inside a cauldron of molten metal.

No one had time to mourn the abrupt loss as one errant move could seal the fate of each pilot. The dragon that had incinerated Skunk 4 however, swooped low, savoring its deadly victory and twisted to douse the burning F-16 with another breath.

Which proved a fatal mistake.

Captain Wu was already turning his plane to engage the beast and lifted his head to put the dragon in the holographic head-up display in his helmet. Utilizing the quick, labored and sharp breaths of the anti-G straining maneuver, the man got a lock on the damned monster’s massive thermal signature.

He would see to it that the dragon’s little celebration would be short-lived. “SKUNK 1, FOX 2!”

The missile left the rail with a violent hiss, its motor igniting a split-second later and propelling it towards the serpent-like behemoth in front of him. The advanced infrared seeker of the AIM-9x Sidewinder sailed up for almost a mile and homed in on the dragon’s intense heat signature as it twisted and spiraled in a desperate attempt to evade.

The monster howled in pain as the warhead detonated and scored a lucky hit on its wing. The explosion tore through the sinew and scale with a violent eruption of flame and shrapnel leaving the beast flailing in the air, marred by the smoking and tattered remnants of its once majestic wing. It tumbled through the sky, screeching in agony, struggling to regain control and eventually evened out as it glided away, but clearly crippled.

“Skunk 1, splash 1, left hand turn!” Wu shouted, braking hard left and trying to coordinate to avoid collisions with any of his wingmen as they twisted and turned in the battle space.

But the skies were far from clear. The cacophony of battle was overwhelming, with aircraft and dragons mingled together as far as the eye could see. Captain Wu's Sidewinder had hit its mark, but no one had the time or the opportunity to capitalize on the injured beast as more, even larger massive dragons, surged from the clouds, threatening to overrun their formation.

Before they could be flanked, Captain Wu noticed the dragons suddenly began taking erratic evasive maneuvers. Streaks of white smoke blues blurred overhead as missiles sailed right past the dragons, but a few found their mark, causing the beast to howl in pain and anger.

The exact same tactics he had used before with his flight was being mirrored by several flights of Navy F/A-18E Super Hornets as two of them flew a few hundred meters overhead, hauling ass to get the dragons to chase them while their wingmen sniped the monsters out of the sky.

No matter where he looked, Wu could see the same scene playing out. The sky was an absolute cluster fuck of jets and dragons chasing either other. Missiles darted around, fire, ice and lightning crackled while claws and teeth ripped through the air, swiping at jets.

If it weren’t for the fact that Captain Wu was feeling the intense G-forces forcing the blood from his head as he maneuvered his F-16, he would have considered this a fever dream. The world had turned on its head, and the impossible was now the daily reality. Dragons, creatures of legend and mythology, were not only real but they were fucking engaging them in aerial combat.

Snapping his flight stick to the left, Wu banked left, hard. His head kept track of Skunk two who was acting as the low man, baiting out beasts with a tempting target by firing a missile or two at them and breaking off. The fight took them deeper into the middle of the brawl and there he saw the visage of an F-22 with almost the entirety of its tail liquified by what looked like acid.

Wu watched as the most deadly aircraft in the world corkscrewed and flipped wildly, dipping under the brawl before a bright burst of light illuminated the cockpit. The canopy explosively jettisoned, spinning off into the darkness and a heartbeat later, a figure was catapulted outwards as the pilot ejected.

“Wow, that was actually pretty fuckin’ smart.” Captain Wu said to himself, his strained voice carried a mix of amazement and respect as his F-16 banked to avoid an F-15 that was in the middle of his own evasive maneuvers.

In this chaotic mess they found themselves in, pilots needed to be a step ahead when the sky was full of teeth that would consider you a tasty mid-air snack.

Turning his attention back to his Skunk 2, Wu found a pair of much smaller, but still brutal creatures on her six. Their wings were bat-like and sinuous, more agile than the larger dragons, with streamlined bodies that darted through the air. Their scales, while sturdy, lacked the dense resilience of their larger counterparts, making them MUCH more vulnerable.

“Guns, guns, guns!” The Captain yelled over the Net as he lined his jet up with the two and squeezed the trigger.

The M61 Vulcan cannon attached to his fighter's fuselage roared to life, sending a stream of hot 20mm armor-piercing incendiary rounds tore through their hides, sending splashes of blood spraying into the sky as their bodies jerked under the onslaught. The first beast had its wings shredded and body riddled with bullet holes as it plummeted to the earth below while the other had been cleanly cleaved in half.

Captain Wu didn’t have time to celebrate the two rapid kills. The skies were still swarming with threats and if he wanted to survive then he needed to maintain his edge all night.

And it was going to be a LONG night.

-

Waiting patiently deep with a grove Coleman and his ODA watched as a strange lumbering creature that traipsed clumsily into the forest clearing. Its bulk was immense, similar to that of a dump truck, and it moved on six thick, stubby, spider-like legs.

Despite the fur that covered its body, an unsettling exoskeleton formed a segmented armor over it, gleaming with an alien sheen. Elements of molten plasma or lava roiled beneath its chitinous plates, casting an eerie glow that painted the trees in sinister shades of crimson.

Coleman couldn’t tell whether the damn thing was a crustacean or an arachnid as its large, flat head was reminiscent of both. It bore heavy, frowning mandibles that clicked rhythmically and multiple eyes that glinted with that same otherworldly, molten light. It seemed out of place in the verdant, cool environment of the forest, appearing more as a creature carved from the heart of a volcano or nestled snug in some horrible desert.

“What the fuck am I looking at…?” Schwarz whispered with a troubled look, his eyes narrowed in disbelief as he peered through the foliage.

"A nightmare," Coleman replied impassively.

Even though he didn’t look like it, the man shared Schwarz sentiment as his eyes remained glued to the odd spectacle unfolding in the clearing. Especially when the gigantic creature's tail lifted towards the sky as its body nestled snugly into its dirt cradle.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Elijah muttered with a disgusted and hateful look on his face. “Kill it all with atomic hellfire.”

As the ODA continued to observe the scene, the activity in the clearing intensified. The rabbit-eared beings began to form formations, seemingly preparing for some kind of assault. They moved with a strange synchronicity, as if controlled by a single mind, their movements fluid and precise. The smaller creatures from the beast scurried between the ranks of the rabbit-eared infantry, adding an additional layer of confusion to the bizarre scene.

Elijah couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of it all. "Nah bro, this is some Final Fantasy shit," he whispered with a shake of his head, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. Settling his rifle on a fallen log, he peered through the scope, trying to make out more details of the alien beings.

Coleman, crouched nearby, kept his focus on the unfolding scene. “Fantasy or not, we should probably take that thing out before we figure out what it does.” He turned to one of the marines who just settled in near them. “Can we get ordinance on it? Tell fires it’s a priority target.”

The marine made a difficult face as he turned to Coleman. “I don’t think so, sir. Everyone’s got a priority target.” He said, grabbing a hold of his push to talk. “I’ll try, but last I heard, artillery has been firing non stop. They’ve practically melted their barrels, but I'll try.”

“Worst they can do is tell us to fuck off.” Coleman nodded, appreciating the marine's efforts despite the low odds. “And if so, we’ll hit ‘em ourselves."

While the forward observer worked on getting fire support, Coleman turned to Gunnery Sergeant Riley, the Marine NCO they were embedded with. "They’re probably going to tell us to eat shit, so we’re gonna have to do this the hard way." Coleman’s voice was firm as he looked over to the monster that was starting to nestle in and violently shove dirt out of the way as if it were burrowing the bottom of its body into the ground.

The Staff Sergeant silently motioned for his marines to gather around as he considered their options. His eyes were trained on the gigantic creature in the clearing, its unsettling movements creating an aura of anticipation and anxiety among the men.

With the marines quietly hoarding around him in the thicket, Major Coleman looked at every face and smirked. If they were going to pull this off, he was going to need the most rabid and unhinged group of degenerates he could get his hands on. And luckily… The Marine Corp were just the animal he needed.

“Alright, this is what we’re gonna do…”