Three Strikes [✓]

Sighthounds

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sighthounds

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Artiglio Port, Usea.
September 4th, 2019.
1455hrs.

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Strider Squadron soared over the fleet, the familiar roaring of their four engines felt in their own chests as they neared the port. It was a cloudy day, and the port didn't look at all like how Naomi remembered. When they'd been there with Spare Squadron it had been a bright, sunny day for the most part. Well, except for that sandstorm that got in the way. But the past was in the past, now, and they had a new battle to deal with today. At least now they were free. Naomi quickly radioed the captain of the fleet's flagship — the Puffin — and announced that Strider Squadron was entering the AO before she addressed her own squadron. Count and Tabloid flanked her in the formation, with Húxiān covering Tabloid's wing, and they were close enough together that Naomi could see all of them if she craned her neck. "Alright, we're gonna be outnumbered even with the allied squadron that they're sending in. We're gonna hit 'em hard and fast. Got it?"

"Righto!" Count confirmed, and the others sounded off after him. After a pause, he asked his wingmates, "Before we get started, anyone up for some friendly competition? I'll even throw in a prize." He paused to see if anyone would object. No one did, and they all waited for him to tell them what the prize was. He quickly continued, "I've got about two hundred zollars in cash. One with the highest score, gets the money. Plus fifty bucks from everyone. So, that means that the overall prize amounts to about three-fifty. Y'all in?"

Tabloid chuckled as he replied with, "Eh, why not? I could use the money."

Naomi paused for a moment, considering the offer. It had been a while since she'd taken part in a kill competition. She remembered taking part in them with Boggard and Footpad, but in Spare Squadron there wasn't ever much of a reward. But it would make an otherwise stressful situation a little more positive, and there wasn't any harm in it the more she thought about it. Although Wiseman didn't agree with the idea of competing for the highest number of 'kills', Wiseman wasn't here. She was going for it. "It'll certainly spice things up for a change. You're on, Count, although I think that it's a little unfair at this point, since we all know who's gonna be getting the top score."

"Huh, someone's awfully cocky today. Starting to sound too much like me," Count replied with a chuckle. "You're lucky I'm letting you compete, Trigger. Just don't cheat and we'll be cool."

"Ha! Righto!" Naomi teased, stealing his own, favorite catchphrase, glancing towards her wing and at his plane. Húxiān didn't answer, but something close to a low, irritated growl could be heard over the radio. Somebody doesn't approve. For the first time ever, she found herself somewhat annoyed with the only other woman in the squadron. They weren't particularly close, but she could still trust Húxiān to follow orders regardless. Maybe she should make an effort to get to know the others better. But now wasn't the time to do it. They were closing in fast. Several enemy squadrons appeared on radar and on their HUDs. Naomi took a deep breath and called out, "Alright everyone, looks like we've got a furball on our hands. Get ready."

"Here we go!" Count said through what sounded like a grin. This was supposed to be an easy, straightforward mission after all. Much better than the ones they'd had recently. He called out to the other former Spare member as they all raised their noses and hit the afterburners, gaining altitude. "Yo! Tabloid! How ya feelin' buddy?"

"Glad to be back in the air!" Tabloid replied, sounding just as pumped up as Count did. Naomi's adrenaline was starting to kick in too as her 'battle instincts' started to kick in. Their friend suddenly let out a laugh and added, "Let's see how this thing handles in a fight. Do it with a bang, right?"