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A meeting of the Aces
Apr. 3rd, 2012 01:01 amThe Black Eagle's feeble craft careened through the night sky, diving between lights hastily aimed upward. Flashes from muzzles welcomed his appearance below as he felt the plane buck as a larger round landed home. He heard bullets whacking into the hastily added metal plate to the floor of the cockpit as he forced the plane into what should have been a deadly dive. He'd done this maneuver before, scouting a flight line and then letting the enemy believe they had shot him down, leaving him free to roam behind enemy lines until he had learned what he desired and then returned home to begin again.
A loud boom from below forced the yoke to buck unexpectedly in his hands, not by a failure of his nerves, but part of his plane was now missing. The brief had not included canons in the list of armaments to concern him, and if he survived the crash, he was certain that intelligence officer who assured him the report was complete would require a day in hospital upon his return. As it was, he could only brace himself, sliding the plate from its spot below him and using it like a shield as the trees smacked into the plane.
The plate saved his life, but in the process had injured his arm. It wasn't broken, but the swelling told him it had nearly been so. Regardless, he dragged his bruised body from the wreckage, taking a small survival kit with him and then set the engine on fire. It would rage long before anyone could come to put it out, destroying any evidence there might have been a body lacking within.
On his crashing path, he had spotted a road nearby, and would make his way toward it. He would have to be careful, but it would ease his navigation until he could find out the exact bearing his plane had taken him on its unexpected divergence from flight on this moonless night.
A loud boom from below forced the yoke to buck unexpectedly in his hands, not by a failure of his nerves, but part of his plane was now missing. The brief had not included canons in the list of armaments to concern him, and if he survived the crash, he was certain that intelligence officer who assured him the report was complete would require a day in hospital upon his return. As it was, he could only brace himself, sliding the plate from its spot below him and using it like a shield as the trees smacked into the plane.
The plate saved his life, but in the process had injured his arm. It wasn't broken, but the swelling told him it had nearly been so. Regardless, he dragged his bruised body from the wreckage, taking a small survival kit with him and then set the engine on fire. It would rage long before anyone could come to put it out, destroying any evidence there might have been a body lacking within.
On his crashing path, he had spotted a road nearby, and would make his way toward it. He would have to be careful, but it would ease his navigation until he could find out the exact bearing his plane had taken him on its unexpected divergence from flight on this moonless night.
