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“Missile incoming, five o’clock!”
“I know. I see it.”
“Roll right! RIGHT damnit!”
“I know, I know, I know….”
“Jesus Redwing, could you have waited any longer?!”
“Shut up, Tazer, you’re still breathing aren’t you.”
“Not for long if you let them get another lock on us!”
“They won’t.”
“Shit I can’t see them! Where the fuck-?”
“He’s still there.”
“You see ‘em? I can’t see shit with all this cloud cover. Talk to me Red.”
“Eight o’clock, low. About two hundred meters.”
“Yeah but where’s the other cocksuck–”
“Twelve high! Sonovabitch is on right top of us!”
“I thought you said you saw him!”
“I did! I just have a more detailed view now!”
“He’s dropping on us. He’s slowing down. What is he doing…I don’t wanna die, Redwing….my wife will kill me if I come home in a box…”
“We’re not going home in a box!”
“Then get us out of here, Red. Bogey-2 is coming up on our tail now. He looks hungry, man. I don’t like it.”
“I got this, Tazer, just shut the hell up and let me fly.”
---TalentShow this is NestMother, be advised we have a third bogey on radar, fifteen miles East of your location, coming in fast. ---
“Jesus fuck. There’s three of them.”
“They’re trying to box me in.”
“Lower your nose, man. Get some speed. Bogey-2 is trying for a lock-on. He’s coming up on our six real fast…”
“Copy, NestMother. Third bogey incoming. Radar contact at fourteen miles. Tracking North at airspeed 900 knots. We could really use some assistance up here…”
—We’re scrambling two fighters, TalentShow. Chicklet and Stinger are sweet. Five minutes South West of your position. Stay alive, Redwing. —
“Copy that!”
“Five minutes?! We’ll be dead by then!”
“Shut up, Tazer!”
“Lock’s on, lock’s on! We’re lit up!”
“He’s not going to hit us, we’re too close. He’d be putting his wingman in danger. He’s just having fun with us.”
“Shit, shit, shit–“
— Third bogey is eleven miles East and slowing down. Do you read? —
“Third bogey incoming. Eleven miles East at seven hundred knots. Copy.”
“What are you doing?!”
“I’m staying put.”
“I’ve got kids, man.”
“Trust me.”
“They’ve still got a lock on us. Fuck, I’m gonna have nightmares with that sound….”
“Third bogey. Sixty seconds. You feel’n that, Tazer?”
“I feel the piss in my Jeans.”
“They’re trying to escort us. Not kill us.”
“Tell that to the missile we just dodged a minute ago!”
“We’re just going to sit here and behave like good boys…”
“I’ve never been a good boy, Red.”
“Oh I know. I remember that time in the steam room—“
“You shut the fuck up with that–!”
“WOoOOoOoo–!”
— Say your state, TalentShow. —
“Uh…oh shit. We are four-zero to splash.”
“Jesus Christ, we’re cutting it close this time.”
— Chicklet and Stinger are in the wind. ETA your position in two minutes. Hang in there TalentShow. —
“I see bogey-3. Three o’clock. It’s a good thing we’ve got wet feet….”
“If we live through this, Red. I’m going to make out with you in front of the whole squadron.”
“Tazer, you’ve been in love with me since the day I violated your cockpit.”
“That’s true, my man. Now just get me out of this alive and I’ll take you to the stars.”
“Now what are these assholes doing way out here in the first place?”
“Killing time? Planning a flyby just to piss off the US Navy for shits and giggles?”
“I’ve never seen that decal before….”
“Yeah, it’s real fucking beautiful. Why don’t you take a picture.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“I know it is. I came up with it.”
“NestMother, we have contact with all three bogeys–”
“–And we are fucking Tumbleweed out here!”
“–We are one-on-three. Repeat, one-on-three. They’re escorting us North, North West. At six hundred knots. Please advise.”
— Wingmen are supersonic. Coming up on you now….Clear the way and come home. —
“Thank fucking–“
“Negative, NestMother. Permission to engage.”
— Permission denied! Get your ass back to base, RedWing. This is not a joyride. —
“Are you fucking out of your mind?! We don’t have the fuel for another fucking dogfight!”
“NestMother we are fangs out. Requesting permission to assist Chicklet and Stinger.”
“RedWing….”
“If we stay in it’s three-on-three. Even if two Bogeys are downed the third could take off. Either way we cut the time and get them out of our airspa–“
— That is a negative, TalentShow. You have your orders. Return to base immediately. —
“Why does no one listen to me?”
“Oh god, we’re not going back to base are we….”
“I didn’t find my credentials in a goddamn cereal box—“
“…Bogey-1 and 2 are still on us….”
“–Which tells me they trust us to make the right call when it’s crunch time—“
“Stinger’s on our wing. Four o’clock high. He’s trying to shake Bogey-2.”
“Alright. Hang on, Tazer. Stinger’s got our back. I’m going after Bogey-1.”
”I adore you, Red. But you’re going to get us killed.”
“You mean suspended.”
“If we aren’t at the bottom of the ocean in thirty minutes, fired is more li–FLARES!”
“I see it. Hold on!”
— Tazer, you get your wingman to pilot that plane back to base NOW. That is an ORDER! —
“Oh god…”
“Apologies, NestMother. Tazer is unavailable for comment at this time. There …eems t… be …ome inter…fer…ence…”
“You’ve got some serious balls man.”
“I’ll get you home safe, buddy. I promise. When this is over I’ll take the heat.”
“Just like last time, huh, Red?”
“What?”
“Nothing. Don’t get distracted. Jesus.”
“Right.”
— TalentShow, this is Lieutenant General Carrington. You have been instructed to return to base, do you copy? —
“Holy shit it’s Carrington.”
“You sent us up here to do our job, Sir. We will return to base once our target is downed–Where the hell is he going…?”
“Two hundred feet to deck. Don’t follow this guy, Red.”
— You play a dangerous game, pilot. —
“Yes, Sir.”
“If you’re going to take him out, take the shot. Switch to guns. We don’t have time for this shit!”
“He’s playing with me.”
“He’s flying dangerous, is what he’s doing and you’re falling for it.”
“I know what I’m doing goddamnit!”
“One fifty feet. Watch your belly.”
— RedWing, you have two minutes to knock that Bogey out of the sky before I flag you as rogue. Do you understand me. TWO MINUTES. —
“I got this.”
“Yeah, Red. You got this….”