2nd Lieutenant Lakewell (Paul Lakewell) (Callsign DUI) (Human)
6/14/2031,
(???)
(???)
“A-Altitude! Pull up! Pu-u-ull up!” Lakewell awoke to a cacophony of noises as his aircraft steadily fell from the sky. The F-18 Hornet screaming at him only made him more disoriented as he tried to come to his senses. “Altitude! Pu-Pull Up! Pull up!” The system flickered as if it had just gotten water splashed on its motherboard, his heads-up display showed this as well, its indicators glitched about like a videogame.
He quickly pulled back on the stick, causing the F-18 to nearly go vertical as it climbed in altitude. His vision blurred as the Gs he pulled began to take their effect, the F-18’s airframe stressed as he made sure to dodge…a mountain? In the middle of the Pacific? Well, it's a Mountain island—a very tall one at that. As he stabilized the jet, he got a good look of his surroundings. Looking to the west, there seemed to be hundreds of mountains similar to the one he had narrowly crashed into, but soon enough, his attention was directed back to the issue at hand.
“Petterson?...SNAKE, are you there?” Lakewell said over the radio, but there was no reply; his Weapon System Officer must have also been knocked out by…whatever did this. But better yet, where was his wingman? Flipping on his transmitter, he spoke once more over the net. “LACK, Report...LACK are you there?” No response came from the net. Thankfully, he was close as he spotted his aircraft, he maneuvered above him and then to his side, thankfully, his F-18 drifted away just enough to clear the mountain Island. But yet LACK, no Richard’s altitude was dangerously low.
“LACK, wake up!” Lakewell yelled over the radio, but to no avail. All he could do was stare at his wingman, just watching the slumped-over forms of both Richard and his WSO Mike as they approached the ocean at high speed. “WAKE UP DAMNIT.”
But it was too late, as soon as the F-18 skimmed the water, it came to an abrupt halt as it plunged into the Ocean. Its mangled airframe somehow still floating on the water, but it wouldn't be like that for long. “LACK!!!!.” Still no response, yet he refused to accept that. Lakewell watched helplessly as his own F-18 circled LACK’s Aircraft as it began to sink into the depths. A terrifying way to die for any person, Aviator or not. but that didn't stop him from calling for help.
“Anybody on this net. This is Huntsman-1, Huntsman-2 is down, I need search and rescue at my position!” Lakewell said through gritted teeth. But all he heard over long range was static. LACK’s F-18 should have automatically course corrected but he guessed the EMP or whatever did this fucked with that as well. At least his F-18 seemed to be getting itself together, its system was no longer glitching as it was a minute ago. After a quick check of his instruments, it was as if his Hornet didn't just have an aneurysm, it just flicked back to normal.
“Ah my head.”
“Petterson!!!” Lakewell said his voice showed how happy he was to hear him speak.
“What happened? Did I pass out.” he said, his mind still processing where he is.
“Yeah, everyone did.”
“Where's our Wingma-”
“They're gone, crashed into the ocean, I...I didn't see anybody bail out before it sank.” Lakewell quickly said, A quiver in his voice, showing just the whirlwind of emotions he was going through. A long silence followed before Peterson finally responded.
“I see, How long was I out.”
“About 2 minutes and a half…It all happened so fast.” Lakewell responded after a moment of hesitation.
“Jesus.”
“fuck...FUCK.” Lakewell yelled. Emotion dripped from his voice as he slammed his left fist on the side of the cockpit repeatedly, over and over. Soon, all he could feel was the warmth of his blood coating his gloved hand as he brought it back to his instruments. Taking a moment to collect himself, he finally broke the silence that followed his outburst. “Is there anything on radar?”
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“No, not even an airliner. Hold on, I'm going to reset it.” Petterson said, but Lakewell’s mind was drawn to something else.
“Petterson”
“Hold on, give me a sec.”
“Petterson!”
“What?!”
“Look up.”
He could practically hear his astonishment as they both sat in silence, the soft humming in the cockpit being the only thing keeping them in reality. All they could see was a massive form hanging in the sky, it was cloaked in darkness, its form blocking out the sky itself. A vibrant blue of many shades peeked out from the side like a crescent moon. Its sight was captivating…and horrifying at the implications it held for them. The silence was only broken when Peterson finally spoke.
“What the fu-”
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Melka Luns (Princess of the Kingdom of Wintkin) (Animalistic Humanoid)
6/14/2031,
(Eastern Territory, Kingdom of Wintkin)
(Chesk Village)
The Ocean view was stunning. Its blue color fell in line with the blue marble in the sky, creating a perfect art piece if it were a painting. They say that's where the gods live, on Lira beneath its many shades of blue. They say the forge fathers crafted the spear of Pleti within its core. Yet, these Marines' power rivals what she has seen from the gods.
Studying their behavior from the day before, they are as strong as they seem, but by how they act, it's as if they are running or lost. One doesn't just enter another nation's territory without violent intentions unless it is done out of necessity or by mistake. That seems to match their behavior so far, especially after interviewing the people of Chesk village.
“What decisions are you making now?”
“I am getting tired of your disrespect Cousin.” She shot back, Icar Nerl may be favored by the queen herself, but that does not mean he can just talk to her in such a manner. One of the many things that infuriated her about the man. “But I guess I will enlighten you, I want to give them sanctuary.”
“SANCTUARY!!! You can't be serious, they attacked us.” Icar Said
“Unlike you, Commander, I do not see everything black and white; there may be a hidden gem here for us. These people only attacked when one of theirs was threatened, some would say they had every right to destroy us. They had more than the means to achieve it if they wished. And yet they kept their word, they backed off, they have honor.”
“They are outsiders! Remember when we trusted the Ocllmar Sea folk. We are still recovering from the loss of ships, and that was nearly 20 years ago!”
“So what? Imagine if the beast they have were to be turned against the Selvis, imagine all the people we could free, and all those scum we could kill.”
“You think I don't want that. To free our people.”
“Our goals are the same, but our methods are different. Understand this: if it means sacrificing my life to save this kingdom, I would gladly do it. Don't think I would put us into possible danger just because I want to.”
“So you say.” Icar Nerl said, glaring at her before walking off. She looked down at her garments, dirty and disheveled from all that's been going on. Being too busy, she hasn't had a chance to bathe or even a change of clothes.
The fresh air of the Ocean once again washed over her, bringing her attention back up to the horizon. That large grey ship floated there, unbothered by the waves around it. She grabbed one of the small tan colored packs that sat by the port, left behind by its creators. One thing she noticed is the expert craftsmanship for such a small bag. On it was a faded red cross symbol.
“Shadow, Report.” As she said those words, 2 shadows appeared, kneeling before her like clockwork. “How goes the search for those lost Marines?” she asked. If she were to get her hands on those men and turn them over to their people, she could use that as leverage to build some proper diplomacy down the road. Mend the bad blood that she had made upon her arrival.
“Nothing yet, your highness.”
“That's your top priority: get me something on them.”
“Yes, your highness.” They once again disappeared like smoke in the wind. Tomorrow may decide the future for her people as a whole, they have always been on the backfoot for the last 60 years. And maybe, just maybe, that might change…with these Marines, from the United States of America.
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