Location: Somewhere above Central California

Unit: The Winged Hussars

Date: July 19th, 2021 CE

"All pilots report in, over" A voice called over the radio.

A man known as the Artic Ghost, or more simply just Ghost, tapped his communication device, "Hello, hello, Ghost here, how are the rest of you doing."

A disgruntled American muttered into his microphone, "Ghost be serious, Wolf tell him, over."

The man nicknamed Wolf spoke in a heavy Polish accent, "Ghost..." he trailed off, unsure what to say.

"Yes," Ghost smiled in his cockpit, "I'm listening."

Wolf exhaled, "Can you stop being a pest for five seconds?"

Ghost smirked before raising his aircraft a few metres and doing an inverted turn putting himself above the F16 cockpit Wolf inhabited.

The cockpits were facing each other, each pilot no more than ten metres away from each other.

"This is gonna end horribly," A voice chuckled through the radio, the second Ukrainian accent, the Smoking Witch; Kalinichenko.

"Yeah I know," Wolf said before moving away from Ghost's aircraft and doing an aileron roll.

"To be fair, the Ukrainian makes patrol slightly more eventful, even if he has nearly caused a crash several times, over," Another American pilot butted in.

"It was once, and I was the one who nearly crashed thanks to Mclaw's shitty CAS call, thank you very much, Firework," Ghost retorted to the American pilot nicknamed firework.

"What about that time in China --" Wolf was suddenly cut off.

Ghost cut in, "We don't talk about that incident."

"Fine, fine," Wolf smiled knowing there was no part in arguing with the Ghost. Being the most decorated pilot in the war and all; along with the only known member of the Winged Hussars to the public. The civilian population loved his MiG 29 more than anything, even though most of the stories are somewhat exaggerated as well as most of the modifications on his aircraft that he is accused of having. Like the gravity increaser machine. Ghost spent several days laughing with Kalinichenko when he heard that rumour from other people working on the base. The idea came from when an enemy pilot flew through his engine trail and lost control in the heat of the moment slamming into the cold Russian waters.

Firework spoke again, "We have a bogey to the east, seems to be coming from the south, near NZA lines."

Ghost immediately got serious flicking several switches, "I know. It's closer than it was earlier, seems to be tailing."

Firework was shocked, "EARLIER, YOU SAW IT?!"

"Yes," Ghost said, "I've been watching the dot for about thirty minutes now, also I'm pretty sure it might be three of them. But I can't confirm as my tech is inaccurate at this range."

Kalinichenko finally spoke, "Ghost, I'm with Firework on this one, even if he was just patrolling you should have let us know. I want a few more kills!" she cackled.

Wolf spoke, "C'mon Smoke, you know Ghost will devour all of them before you even arrive!"

Ghost gave a small chuckle, "Ironic, a wolf talking about someone else devouring the prey."

Wolf spoke again, "I got this call sign from tearing a wolf's skull off; not being like a wolf, you know."

"Yeah, you've told us this story a hundred times, can we just go kill the bastards already?" Firework asked.

Wolf rubbed his eyes before pulling his visor down, "Fine! Break into two's and we'll hit them from all sides."

The six pilots split into three groups, Smoking Witch and Ghost descended while Firework and his wingman ascended, and Wolf, along with his wingman went to the centre.

After no more than a few minutes of somewhat slow, for a fighter jet, travel; the six aviators arrived.

"They're in visual range, over," Ghost called out.

"Four Flashhogs, all light-armed, over," Wolf spoke through the radio.

Flashhog was the NATO nickname for the main fighter jet, armed with an unidentified rotary gun.

The three groups were all over a hundred metres from each other, awaiting the charging of machine guns.

"Get ready we'll draw them to us, you two take them out," Wolf commanded.

Suddenly the enemies' guns started to spin.

BRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTT!

"BREAK!" Wolf shouted as both he and his partner rolled out of the way of the machine gun fire, letting off several unguided rockets.

BOOM!

One made contact shredding through one of the Flashhog's. Causing it to fall into a downwards descent and explode before it even hit the ground.

"Going in," Smoke yelled, before flying straight in front of one of the NZA pilots leaving a huge trail of thick grey smoke.

Immediately, Ghost followed, letting his machine guns rip; instantaneously two more explosions filled the smoke as he whooshed past. Under his cockpit, he'd fitted heat sensors to detect and display what they predict to be the enemy to be by using a vastly over complicated algorithm.

"Final one, he's all yours, Shrapnel," Ghost said.

Another American voice spoke over the radio, "Yeah thanks," it was Fireworks wingman, the youngest ace in the Winged Hussars, Shrapnel.

Rolling he fired off one precise shot and the final aircraft was blown into a deep red fireball instantly.

"Holy shit, that was brutal," Ghost said, "Good shot."

All of Shrapnel's machine gun bullets are made in his weapons factory by his own hands. Inside each round is fitted with several pieces of extremely sharp metal implanted with a small lighter. When the bullet lands, it explodes into several pieces, shredding throughout the aircraft and causing either the ammunition or fuel to explode.

"Did we get them all?" Firework asked hesitantly.

Ghost looked to his sensors, "I think... so."

Blip.

Something popped up on his scanner, "Oh shit... it's an ambush," A black shadow appeared on the sun, "1km above, another six, maybe seven, aircraft, to the east."

BRRRRTTTT!

The rotary guns opened fire, piercing Ghost's wings. Rolling he quickly dodged the missile fire, "Three seem to be targeting me, any help would be appreciated."

Wolf spoke, "Take them low at high speeds, I'll meet you there."

Wolf broke off leaving the rest of the squadron.

Now in pursuit of Ghost, NZA pilots were nearly hitting their targets, "They're trying to get missile lock!"

BOOM!

A loud explosion went off behind Ghost and one of the enemy aircraft partly evaporated in mid-air, before letting the rest go into a death spiral.

"I'll start clearing them as Wolf is taking too long," Shrapnel spoke in his deep voice.

Wolf called out, "No don't I have a plan, that is an order," he paused, "Pull away."

Shrapnel went to speak, but Ghost spoke first, "Do what he says, hang back and help the rest clean up; Wolf my life is in your hands."

Ghost put his nose into a full dive, gritting his teeth, he kept himself pinned to the chair.

The ground was approaching fast, ten thousand, nine thousand, eight thousand, seven thousand, six thousand. He sped closer and closer, the sand came into view.

One thousand.

Immediately hitting the stick forward his MiG29 looped. Instantly tilting right he dodged one enemy aircraft by a fraction of an inch and it slammed into the sand.

"WOOHOO!" Ghost shouted, "One left!"

Evening his aircraft out, Ghost raised no more than a few metres above the sandy dunes, the enemy however was unstable, constantly changing their position to attempt to open fire, but every time they had a clear shot, Ghost would quickly barrel roll.

"I can't keep this up forever!" Ghost said into his radio, "Where are you, Wolf?"

He got a reply, "Pull up and prepare to stall on my mark, 3, 2, 1."

"Mark."

Ghost immediately pulled back on his stick as hard as he could. Going straight into a vertical climb, the enemy attempted to follow.

BAAAAAARRRRRRR!

Several rounds shredded through the wings and the engine causing it to seize all functions.

Slowly it started to glide to the ground before its cockpit slid across the dunes bringing it to a total stop.

"That was close..." Ghost said.

Wolf smiled under his helmet, "Indeed it was," still staring at the crashed enemy aircraft, "No sign of life, everyone else good?"

"Yeah, we just shot down the last fighter, over," Firework spoke.

Wolf flicked a switch, concealing his machine guns, "Good, let's RTB then, over."

"Finally," Ghost remarked, "I'm nearly bingo fuel, over."

Turning for home, the squadron retreated to their airfield.

***
Location: Idaho, USA

"So what do you think the next missions gonna be?" Ghost asked Kalinichenko.

The female Ukrainian replied, "How should I know, probably gonna get one of us killed though!"

"It's about one of the fighters that crashed yesterday," A voice said from a man leaning against the white stone wall, "He's gonna have us escort a convoy of scientists while providing close air support."

This person was Ryszard Surma, another Polish pilot who fought in the battle for the Arctic. Callsign: Rockslide.

"How the hell do you know that, Rockslide?" Kalinichenko asked.

Rockslide responded, "I overheard a convo on the radio, apparently it's gonna be a night mission as well."

Ghost rolled his eyes, "Oh great, this is just getting better and better," quickly checking his watch, his eyes widened, "Oh shit, we're late."

Quickly turning around the three aces trotted down the hallway at a leisurely pace. Entering the nearest door a briefing room came into view.

"Oh look who finally decided to join us," Wolf remarked, "What's your excuse today?"

Ghost started to think hard, "Uh... me and Smoke were talking with the tech guys about potential systems and strategies for air combat. No idea what Rockslide was doing though."

Wolf cracked a small smile before turning to Rockslide, "And you?"

"I was only informed no more than five minutes ago about this meeting," Rockslide remarked.

Wolf chuckled, "Bullshit," he paused, "Later you owe me press ups... all of you," he looked around the classroom, realising the shock and horror pasted on the faces of his subordinates.

Firework called out, "Thanks a lot, dickheads, be on time next time," before he turned back to the front of the room, "Can we get this meeting started now, I've been waiting for over half an hour?"

Wolf turned to the huge screen before revealing a map, "Our mission is to provide support for a group of A10 thunderbolts," he paused, "Yes, we will be supporting the gun fitted with a plane."

Wolf informed the rest of the pilots exactly what Rockslide had told them about earlier, they would escort a convoy of scientists and salvage workers and be responsible for protecting the heavily armed A10s from air to air weapons.

It would be a relatively short mission, scientists would identify anything of value and mark it for the salvage team to bring back to base.

"Who will be the ground team then?" Kalinichenko asked.

Wolf stroked his chin, "I'm not sure, but it's someone good, they'll be arriving in a few hours with the A10s. From there we will launch the escort mission. We will have two aerial tankers ready to refuel our fighters mid-air upon request, but we will have to go to them. Their position will be marked on your maps, get going and good luck boys and girls."

Ghost stood up and nodded, "Right I'm gonna get my aircraft readied for air to air."

Kalinichenko followed, "Guess it's time to stack it with missiles and enough smoke to block out the sun."

"Yeah, yeah," Wolf muttered to himself, "You'll need it."