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.