Daily Archives: October 28, 2010


Soon the sky was a cluster of warbirds and jagged projectiles.
“Drake, give me some cover!” shouted Jansen, trying to shake an enemy pilot.
“I can’t, I can’t!” responded Drake.
“Why the hell not?”
As if on queue, Drake’s plane sped by Jansen’s in a horrible nosedive followed by a cloud of black deathly smoke. Drake could be heard screaming on the way down, a horrible fade.
“You party-poopers!” shouted Jansen. He whirled around in the plane and found himself behind the enemy. He let loose a barrage of bullets and he soon flew through a cloud of flames and twisted metal.
The large blimp was in sight. “Cover me, guys.” said Jansen. 10 other ERA planes came to his aid. The blimp fired flak and .50 caliber bullets at the planes. “Spread out,” shouted Jansen. “Distract the turrets! I’ll take care of this.”

Captain Mooreson hit the ground, spraining his ankle. He shouted out a swear in pain and soon got up, removing his parachute. He limped across the Bonivian countryside, watching the battle from above. “Don’t let me down, Jansen.” His wrecked plane crashed behind him.

The fuel tank was in clear sight. After destroying all the defenses surrounding the zeppelin’s weak point, it could be done. He tried firing his missiles. They were jammed. Jansen soon flew around and then came in again at the exposed fuel tank. His missiles were still jammed.
He had no other choice. He flew around one last time and flew directly into the fuel tank. A large explosion sent shock waves throughout the sky.
“Where the hell’s Jansen?” asked a pilot.
“He… he did it.” responded another.
“I guess we should return to base now.”

Mooreson watched as the flaming frame of the blimp touched down in front of him, shattering like glass. A large flame burned as a result of the explosion in the treacherous skies above. Mooreson grinned, pumped his fist into the air, and collapsed.


It took many weeks of discipline, but after much patience, bloodshed, and punishment, Flight Wing Beta had gone from a juvenile, childish group of kidders and whippersnappers to a group of hardened fighter pilots.

The rotors spun on the planes. Flight Captain Greg Mooreson put on his headset. “Ok, let’s see what this baby can do.”

The planes took off in a massive formation; at least one hundred. “Our mission is to attack the WRA mothership; it is attacking ERA strongholds and will be a major blow to the WRA forces. Use everything you’ve got; if the worst comes to the worst, use your planes. Target distance: 40 miles. Get ready.”

Soon, a large round, egg-shaped object loomed in the distance.
“Arm your missiles,” said Mooreson.
“Roger, missiles armed. Attack formation, set! Break formation on my command!”

Bright projectiles illuminated the dusk sky. “Break formation! Break formation!” shouted Mooreson, as the planes flew around and battled with enemy planes deployed by the WRA mothership.