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Fresco

Switzerland. What a beautiful fucking country. I'm up here, cruising at approximately 800MPH over the Swiss Alps. Never before have I felt so free. Banking from left to right, feeling the wind upon my wings. Pluto was on my left wing, I turned to look at him. He looked back and waved.

"Having fun Plutey?"

"Indeed I am Fresco, beautiful landscape sir."

"Yes, it is. Set your heading to too-fower-fife degrees and remain steady, over."

"Roger that, heading set, steady, over"

We're headed towards our station for the week, myself and Pluto are on a training exercise, one of his first actually. We're running low on fuel so we're starting to reduce our speed, reducing our fuel flow so we can last longer in the sky.

"Tango Flight to Tower, requesting permission to land runway too-too Lima, over."

"Tower to tango flight, permission is granted, runway too-too Lima, out"

"Tango flight to tower, messaged received, out"

We are on final approach. Flaps, set. Gear, set. Throttle, reduced, and... pulling back, flare, touchdown. Braking, flaps up.

And we're stationary.

"Good run Pluto."

"Thank you sir, excellent flying, that barrel roll must've been fairly intense"

"What barrel roll?"

"Nothing Sir!"

So if you haven't gathered, I am Fresco. Of course that isn't my actual name, Fresco is my callsign, and what I'm known as in the skies, My real name is Squadron Leader Brandon Fare, and I am the flight leader for Tango Flight, a small 4 man specialist Typhoon Flight of the Royal Air Force. Pluto, Flight Lieutenant Yates, is my primary wingman, he's what we like to call a newbie in this job role though, having only passed his training just over a month ago. We also have Poison (Flt Lt Biggins) and Maverick (Flt Lt Powell).

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