<...take it down to the bottom, near the manipulation bed.> Dr. Wackett's chipper voice once again instructs you over your headset. Obliging, you apply some magic and turn the propellers on your legs. Once again in the test pool, Dr. Wackett has you testing the ability of a Subwitch to withstand quick changes in depth and manipulate fine items and objects. Submerged in the deepest part of the pool (some 30m or so, an impressive depth for a pool) is a rectangular 'box,' much wider and deeper than it is tall, on which numerous switches, buttons, dials, and other precision objects are attached. They don't control anything, but the test is about whether or not you're able to adjust them at all. <I'm heading down now,> you respond, carefully adjusting your limbs to orient your face downward. You could simply let gravity drag you to the bottom of the pool, but you're feeling a little impatient today. Besides, you're here to test rapid pressure changes, too. A gentle thrust from your leg units propels you quickly to the bottom, the gentle light of your shield surrounding you as the pressure grows. As you approach, you reach back to the main unit of the Substriker and draw out the handlebar-like controls. Manipulating them carefully, you use it and your leg units to kill your downward momentum and re-orient yourself horizontally.
<Alright, you should see some panels with a bunch of controls,> says the Doctor. <Yeah, a bunch of them.> <Can you set them the same way as on your clipboard?> You take out the waterproof board with a crude drawing on it. It's a rough representation of the panels in front of you, with each switch, button, and dial set a certain way. <I can try.> The words hadn't left your mind for more than a second before you hear a sharp crack coming from the unit on your back. Maintaining your pressure shield suddenly becomes very difficult.[ ] Doc, I've got a problem.[ ] Emergency Surface.[ ] Set the switches.[ ] Other.
[ ] Doc, I've got a problem.Let's not fuck around with our lungs.
[x] Doc, I've got a problem.
[x] Doc, I've got a problem.SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT NOT AGAIN WHY DO WE KEEP GOING UNDERWATER THIS IS CLEARLY A BAD THING
>>20321932[x] Doc, I've got a problem.She's the expert on this unit, she should be informed of what happened.
<Uh, Doc? I think I've got a problem...> Silence. <Doc, can you hear me?> Again, no response. This is worrying. Though you're using a radio set, as a Radio Witch you have a natural propensity for transmitting and receiving radio waves. Even if the set was damaged, you should still be sending out some sort of signal and be able to hear any response. The air in your helmet feels hotter.[ ] Keep trying.[ ] Emergency Surface.[ ] Set the switches.[ ] Other.
>>20322107[x] Emergency Surface.This is still experimental technology. No need to get ourselves killed during testing with a prototype.
[ ] Emergency Surface.
[x] Emergency Surface.Fuck it, we're outta here.
>>20322107[x] Set the switches.Das muss das Mädel abkönnen, Frau KaLeu.
There's no time to mess around. Maintaining your pressure shield is draining you quickly, and you're at the bottom of the pool. Again reaching for the handle-bar controls, you attempt to command the unit upward. There's no response from the backpack. Frustrated, you try to pump some juice into the leg units. They start turning, propelling you upward about 3 meters...and then jam, leaving you drifting slowly towards the surface. [ ] Signal the rescue divers.[ ] Rip this shit off and get to the surface.[ ] Other.
>>20322215Somehow lost my trip
>>20322215[x] Signal the rescue divers.We've still got air, and we've still got a pressure shield.
>>20322215Wait, how deep are we?
[ ] Signal the rescue divers.Let us not drown encumbered, hmm?
>>20322241You were at the bottom of a 30m deep pool.
[x] Signal the rescue divers.We'd probably lose more air trying to reach the surface than calmly waiting for several divers to help us up.
>>20322262So we should be fine if we take the gear off, only problem is holding our breath till we reach the surface. Eh, fuck it.[x] Signal the rescue divers.
You gesture wildly at the rescue divers, the two of them watching you from the lip of the deep pit of the pool, some 5m from the surface. You point at yourself then point upwards, trying to ask them to help you get up. When they don't get it, you do your best to indicate that everything has broken and you need help, but your movements seem more like random chaos than an intelligent message. Either way, the divers seem to think that getting you to the surface is a good idea. They dive downward in excruciating slowness, eventually taking you by your arms and lifting you up and out of the pool. They rip your helmet off so you won't suffocate and the cool air of the pool room gives you some sense of safety. They ask a practiced list of questions about how you're doing and what was wrong. "Everything fucking jammed is what!" you say. "Something cracked or popped or whatever and it all stopped working." Dr. Wackett listens intently, scribbling some notes. "Mmhmm. What was it like?" "What was it like!? Like suddenly having a brick hanging over your head and the string holding it up's about to snap is what!" you reply angrily. "It's hell holding back all that pressure without a working focus!" She again jots down some notes. "And what was it like trying to move with everything disabled?" "Like trying to swim in molasses! The Substriker generates so much drag when you try to swim normally that you'd wear yourself out before you got anywhere." "Uhuh. You couldn't get the unit off?" "I didn't try, but-" Wait a second.[ ] You seem rather intent on learning what it was like down there.[ ] Whatever. Let her keep questioning you.[ ] Other.
[ ] Whatever. Let her keep questioning you.We can return the interrogation favor later.
>>20322422>[ ] You seem rather intent on learning what it was like down there."Whatever" is probably more reasonable, but, whatever.
>>20322422Doc did NOT just fucking break it on purpose without telling us, did she?
>>20322422[x] Other."This was planned, wasn't it? Fuck you guys!"
>>20322464Is that a vote or just idle speculation?
>>20322479That's a vote for questioning.
>>20322422[x] Whatever. Let her keep questioning you.Emergency release is another item on the checklist, but that doesn't mean it was meant to be tested THIS time.
>>20322422>[X] You seem rather intent on learning what it was like down there.They do say the best test of something is to push it until it breaks. That said, they should at least warn the person inside first.
[ ] You seem rather intent on learning what it was like down there.
"You seem rather intent on learning what it was like down there," you note. "Well of course, Cleo! Everything that happens on a test is important, especially when something goes wrong! You might say that the most valuable data comes from failure!" "Like the failure of the Substrikers?" "Yes! And the reaction of the diver. It's very important to understand what broke, but we can do that back in the shop. It's just as important to get the impressions of the person using it when it broke." Dr. Wackett's eyes are gleaming as she hugs her clipboard. "And you're the person that was using it, so tell me everything!"[ ] Oh, well, uh...[ ] You didn't set up that failure on purpose, did you?[ ] Other.
>>20322584>[ ] Oh, well, uh...
>>20322584[x] You didn't set up that failure on purpose, did you?
Let's only ask if she had a hand in it later. We can just answer her questions now.
>>20322584[x] Oh, well, uh...
[x] You didn't set up that failure on purpose, did you?
Subwitches is a lot like terror from the deep.It's worse than the original and your character will die even quicker!do ho ho ho ho ho
"Oh, well, uh..." you say sheepishly. "I guess you're right." Dr. Wackett smiles enthusiastically, barraging you with a new list of questions. The pace at which she asks makes you wonder how she's getting this all down, but her pen is flying across the pages at an astounding rate. If there's anyone that could get everything, it's Dr. Alice Wackett. As she starts wrapping up the questioning, you both walk towards the door. Just as you grab the jacket you use to help cover yourself up, Rae busts in. "ARE YOU READY, CLEO?" she bellows, her voice echoing in the pool room. "Please don't yell, Ms. Caulders," Dr. Wackett asks in a flat tone. "I'm a Lieutenant, Doc." "Then Lt. Caulders, please don't yell." "Sure thing, Doc. Hey, Cleo, are you ready?" You look at Dr. Wackett but the puzzled look on her face tells you it's nothing she knows about.[ ] Sure am.[ ] Ready for what?[ ] Other.
[ ] Ready for what?
>>20322731[x] Party time?
>>20322753PARTY TIMETO HELL WITH YOUR RAILS KOTTERS
>>20322731>[ ] Other."Damnit, Rae, I told you you didn't need to make a big deal about it."
>>20322731[x] Ready for what?
>>20322731Plot?
>Ready for what?>PARTY TIME You turn back to Rae. "...This doesn't have anything to do with my birthday, does it?" Dr. Wackett's eyes widen. "It's your birthday, Cleo!? Why didn't you tell me?" "Well, technically it was yesterday. And yes, it does. I told you I'd find something to do, right?" Rae smiles a dangerous smile. "I've arranged a ride out into town. We're gonna have a blast, Cleo! Eat at some restaurant, hit some bars...C'mon, it'll be fun!" "I don't know, Rae. I don't think we should just up and leave out of nowhere." "You're not worried about our orders, are you? I checked the wording. We're to assist in the research effort using our first hand experience and our abilities while also resting and recovering from our ordeal. I'd say a night on the town counts as resting and recovering." "Oh, I want to come too!" Dr. Wackett exclaims. For someone with so much...education, she's awfully animated and eager.[ ] Alright, let's go.[ ] We have testing to do.[ ] Other.
Where are the Tanks?
>>20322901[x] Alright, let's go.Let out a long-suffering sigh.Looks like Rae is determined to have us experience "fun".
[ ] We have testing to do.There's a five-star officer on base. Let's not be seen leaving our duty station.We can go get smashed later.
>>20322924In TWQ.
>>20322901[x] Let's go.>>20322731Hey man. Go be boring somewhere else.
"Alright," you say, "let's go." "Yes!" Dr. Wackett nearly jumps for joy, but manages to remain planted on the ground. A Doctor has to appear composed at all times, you suppose. Rae looks as if she wants to say something about Dr. Wackett, but doesn't. With a sigh, she leads you out of the pool. Several hours later, you, Rae, Miranda, Yetta, and Dr. Wackett walk out onto the airstrip, heading for a cargo plane. Your civilian clothing is a welcome respite from the constant work and danger you've been dealing with for weeks. It really emphasizes the nature of your visit. "So what's the deal?" you ask. "Why'd we have to wait so long?" Rae shrugs. "Tom said we could hitch a ride on the supply flight out of here. They're headed for an installation in Toowoomba to stock up before heading back. It's a supply run for CAC, so they're more lenient on what gets to fly and what doesn't." Miranda taps her foot nervously. "Are you sure about this, Rae? How are we getting back?" Rae smiles. "Well, they're planning on loading up during the night. Conveniently they're waiting for a package that should arrive in the morning, so they'll stick around for awhile. We just have to get back before they leave." "And if we miss it?" Rae shrugs. "We'll figure something out." How reassuring.[ ] We need a return plan.[ ] Board the plane.[ ] Other.
>>20322924Somewhere in the European countryside, I think.>>20322901>[ ] We have testing to do.I wholly expect the Doc to use "but they're broken" as an excuse to go to whatever Rae's cooked up.
[x] Let's go.[generic statement of love to party]
>>20323164>[ ] We need a return plan.
>>20323164[x] We need a return plan.We're the responsible Warrant Officer here. At the least swipe a plane schedule and some requisition forms that we can fill out that'll get us on those planes.
[ ] Alright, let's go.
>>20323164[x] We need a return plan.Maybe it won't turn into Hangover Witches Quest. Maybe.
>>20323272Oh god, Dr. Wackett is Alan. Search her for roofies.
Let's go... Think up of a return plan. Then PARTY HARD.
>>20323311No don't! It's more fun that way!Actually, that gives me an idea for some fapfic...I've been looking for an angle on some DocxCookie
>>20323311>implying that's a bad thingThis is gonna be the best night ever.
"We need a way back, Rae. Don't you have a deadline for the Striker testing?" Rae shrugs and looks away. "Yeah, but..." Dr. Wackett speaks up. "Well, I'm in charge of the facility." Everyone looks at her curiously, yourself included. "So?" "Well, I can just tell them I need to head to town. They'll have to wait for me if I'm using them to fly out to Toowoomba." Rae smiles. "There, you see? Even the Doc can be useful sometimes. It's no problem! Let's head on out." She starts heading for the plane, Dr. Wackett following her. To be honest, you're not quite sure how you feel about this. You, Miranda, and Yetta glance at each other nervously. It feels like you're about to play hooky and the military's a bit different from school. Still, you do have the overseer of the facility backing you and your orders do mention resting and recuperating. You're not on combat duty or anything. [ ] Board the plane[ ] Don't board the plane[ ] Other
>>20323367>[ ] Board the planeDo it, but express reservations.
>>20323367[x] BOARD THE PLANE[x] TO PARTY
>>20323367[x] GET IN THE FUCKING PLANE, CLEO
>>20323367[x] Board the planeMaybe we should have signed some passes at least...
Get in the plane losers, we're going partying.
YOU WAKE UP WITH NO MEMORY OF LAST NIGHT. YOU'RE COVERED IN SCRAPES AND BRUISES. AS YOU LOOK AROUND, YOU SEE THAT MIRANDA AND RAE ARE UNCONSCIOUS NEXT TO YOU, LYING NEXT TO A CAR. YOU'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DESERT. WHAT DO YOU DO?
>>20323433>no kangarooExpress disappointment.
>>20323367>[x] Board the plane>make reassuring ping noises
[x] Just get In the plane
You're worried, but you've technically got some sort of permission. Probably the highest form of permission, given that this is still technically a civilian facility. Besides, it's for your birthday. Sighing, you turn and head for the plane. After a few moments, Miranda and Yetta follow you. After the plane takes flight, you all find yourselves in the back of the cargo plane. Dr. Wackett's broken out a bunch of blankets from a crate for all of you to sit and rest on, backs to crates and the sides of the plane. The propellers are a bit loud, but with a bit of effort you can understand each other. "So," Rae asks, "how old are you now?" "Rae!" Miranda exlaims. "What?" "That's rather rude." "Oh come on. What if I've got a cake somewhere and I want to know how many candles to put on it?" Miranda just glares at her.[ ] Tell her.[ ] Agree with Miranda.[ ] Other.
>>20323511[x] Tell her.
>>20323511[x] How old do you think I am, Rae?THE MOST DANGEROUS QUESTION.
[x] Tell her.
>>20323550This.
>>20323550[x] LET US PLAY THE MOST DANGEROUS OF GAMES.
>>20323550That's just too cruel. Do it anyway.
You grin at the opening. "How old do you think I am, Rae?" "W-what?" Rae appears to be taken off guard. "What do you mean?" "Exactly what I asked, Rae. How old do you think I am?" Both you and Miranda smile as Rae squirms. She's rushed out without thinking and only now seen the minefield. Even Yetta giggles a bit as she watches. "Well, I, uh..." Rae mumbles. She studies you carefully before finally saying "You're older than me, right?" Even that question, though, was rather hesitant. You make an exaggerated show of thinking, twisting and contorting your face in thought. "Hmmm....yes, I am." Rae smiles. "Yes, alright, um..." Again, she studies you. "Uh...27?" she guesses nervously. That's two years too old.[ ] Berate her.[ ] Chide her.[ ] Other.
>>20323550Definitely.
>>20323715[x] Chide her.Nothing too much.
[ ] Chide herLet's not be cruel.
>>20323715http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRVUOGUmxJI
>>20323715>[ ] other"Oh... So close, but... so far."Take that as whatever you think best fits, I guess.
>>20323715[x] ChideAlso, we're 25? Whelp. Looks like we're nearly Christmas cake now.
>>20323715[x] Chide her.We now have LEVERAGE."Bzzzt. First two rounds are on you. One for each year you're off."
>>20323715OH BOY KOTTERS DO I HAVE A FAPFICTION FOR YOU. YOU BETTER STAY TUNED
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," you scold. "You owe me two drinks, young lady." "Whaaaat?" Rae complains. "You're over by two! I'm not that old, thank you very much," you say as you cross your arms. Dr. Wackett twitches as you say that and a melancholy air surrounds her. "Well, if you're done poking around things you shouldn't be," Miranda says, "then perhaps we should talk about how we've been? It's only been a few days, but I'm sure we've all been busy. What have we all been up to?" Rae rolls her eyes. "I've been flying those Mars Strikers, trying to get their flight characteristics down for the brass and whoever they deem worthy. They're driving me crazy with all the stupid little things they want tested." You shrug. "Been working with Dr. Wackett on testing the Substrikers. Had an equipment malfunction today, too. What a great birthday present, huh?" Dr. Wackett looks away and the melancholy feeling intensifies. Miranda expresses some concern. "You're alright then, Cleo? You didn't...you know, start...drowning?" "No, it's fine, but it could have gone South real quick." "Well, I'm glad you're alright. As for me, I've been busy testing some radio equipment. The techs are going all over that helmet you brought back, running all sorts of tests. It doesn't seem to block much in the way of radio, but they're still working it all out."
>>20324007 Everyone turns to Yetta, except Dr. Wackett; she's still moping in the corner. "M-me? Well, um...I've been watching Socks." "Oh, come on!" Rae complains. "You've got the easiest job! How'd that happen? Shouldn't Cleo be the one watching Socks?" You think back to when you first arrived. Rae's right; you really should be the one watching Socks. It's just that, well... Yetta didn't quite seem ready to hop back in a Substriker. You pushed for a swap in "duties," something Yetta was quite grateful for. As she remains silent, you can tell she doesn't really want to let anyone know how badly she's been affected by the Tullibee. "Oh, shut up. You're just mad about how much flying you have to do. Didn't you tell me just yesterday about how flying is always fun?" you deflect carefully. "Hey! I didn't say it wasn't fun anymore, just..." You all continue in merry conversation until the plane lands. It's early evening, and the town is lively.[ ] Bars, bars, bars![ ] Get some food at a nice restaurant – Rae's buying.[ ] Other.
>>20324016>[ ] Get some food at a nice restaurant – Rae's buying.
>>20324016[x] Get some food at a nice restaurant – Rae's buying.No drinking on an empty stomach.
>>20324016>All the bars.>Bars>ALL THE BARS
>>20324016Food first. Need something to vomit later.
fooooood
"Alright, let's grab some food," you say, stretching as you exit the plane. "I guess that's fine," Rae agrees. "Doc, you've been here before, right? What's a good place to get some food?" Dr. Wackett raises her pen to her mouth. "Actually, I've never flown into town before. Not for pleasure, anyway. I have no clue." "What? Oh, come on. You need to get out more," Rae says. "Well, what's the plan, then?" "Hmm," you say as you all get out of the way of unloading.[ ] Head into town proper and find a restaurant.[ ] Ask someone handy at the air strip for a recommendation.[ ] Stop someone in town for a recommendation.
>>20324167>[ ] Ask someone handy at the air strip for a recommendation.
>>20324167[x] Ask someone handy at the air strip for a recommendation.They'll know the places that are accommodating to military types.
It's safe to make non-issue decisions like this on your own, Kota.
You grab one of the men heading to the plane by the shoulder. Startled, he turns to you. "Y-yes, Ma'am?" "You know any place good to eat around here?" "O-oh. You could try, um..." He spits out a list of a few restaurants, all located at the south side of town, rather close to the air strip. Thanking him, you head back to the group. "Well, there's a few we could try not too far from here. You guys up for a walk?" you ask. Your only answers are groans. "What, you got a better idea?" A whistle comes from behind you. Spinning around, you spot Dr. Wackett standing next to a car. "Need a lift?" You roll your eyes. After a short drive, you all arrive at a place called "Jamie's" and head inside. It has a friendly atmosphere, something between that of a family kitchen and a high-class establishment. Being seated by a friendly waiter, you look around at the clientele. A few people are dressed in formal wear, but the majority are wearing more casual clothing like yourselves: button-up shirts, blouses, plain pants, the like.
>>20324480 "...competent. Just the other day Jack lost his son over in Brisbane. Poor kid was still in training. How do people miss something like that?" "Look, I understand how painful it is losing a son, but let's be serious. We're fighting literal men from Mars. I think I can forgive them for not being perfect. Overall we've been doing quite well!" "Yeah, if you only watch the newsreels. Maybe they're right and we are winning. How many men are we losing?" "You shouldn't say that! What kind of leader would want more dead soldiers?" "Incompetent ones, like I said. And what's the deal with some of the special treatment those Witches have been get-" "Orders, ladies?" Your eavesdropping is interrupted by a waitress. Distracted by a pair of diners a few tables over, you didn't even notice the menu placed in front of you.[ ] I'll have what Rae's having.[ ] Oh, sorry. One moment please.[ ] Other.
>>20324395No. YOU MUST DECIDE EVERYTHING.
>>20324492>[ ] Oh, sorry. One moment pleaseLet's try to not blow up at the pair having their chat.
>>20324492[x] Oh, sorry. One moment please.
>>20324492[x] Oh, sorry. One moment please.And of course we're ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, since this is on Rae's dime. Or at least toy around with the idea rather vocally.
[x] Oh, sorry. One moment please.
>>20324545This.Also, do we like sweets? We should definitely get some dessert afterwards.
>>20324492This >>20324545>>20324639What a coincidence I have just the image.
>>20324683>>20324639Oh fuck yes.
"Oh, sorry. I was, um...one moment, please." You flip over the menu, glancing at various dishes. Much of the offerings are familiar, things like various steaks, chicken and pork dishes, the like. However, one catches your eye. Crocodile. The price tag is also high enough that you'd never pay for it yourself. Still, seeing as it is your birthday...and Rae should be paying for it..."I'll have this Crocodile dish," you tell the waitress."W-wait, let me see that," says Rae. Her eyes widen as she reads the price. "Are you serious?""What, can't treat a girl on her birthday?"Rae merely grumbles in reply. Taking the menus away, the waitress heads back to put in your orders. The others strike up some conversation, but you're still focused on the pair a few tables over."...believe you! How can you be so pessimistic about the whole thing? You're not still mad that you didn't pass the medical examination, are you?" "That has nothing to do with it. I just don't like how much special treatment these girls are getting while our boys have to deal with jack shit!" "I really don't believe this, John. Those ladies are out there on the front lines, bearing so much more of the burden than any individual soldier. If you can't appreciate them with all they've given, then you must not appreciate someone like me who's stuck at home, turning the occasional wrench in a factory." At that, John's lady friend gets up and storms out. When your food arrives, you notice John leave as well.
>>20324843 "So how is it, Cleo?" Miranda asks. "I'm sorry, what?" "Your damned expensive meal, Cleo. Your crocodile. What's it taste like?" complains Rae. "Hmm..." you say, taking a bite of the meticulously prepared meal. It has a wonderful taste and texture, falling apart in your mouth. It's perhaps a bit cliché, but it does taste a bit like chicken. There's a hint of something more aquatic in there as well, perhaps crab. It's very exotic, something you've never had before. "Well, I guess there's our answer," Rae comments as you can't help but smile at the taste. Finished with your main courses, the waitress returns. "Would any of you like some desert?"[ ] Yes, I'd like...<what would you like?>[ ] No, thanks.
>>20324849>[ ] Yes, I'd like...<local fruit based ice cream dish>
>>20324849>[*] Yes, I'd like...See >>20324683
>>20324849[x] Yes I'd like >>20324683
"Oh god, someone stop her," moans Rae as she watches your cogs turn. Her pleas are futile. You order the most extravagant parfait on their desert menu, a delicious concoction of ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, wafers, and various fruits. "I want one too," Dr. Wackett says as the waitress brings you yours. As you dig in, you note the delicious sweetness of the desert. It's devilishly creamy, with a smoothness that's countered only slightly by some of the toppings. As you bite into a juicy piece of strawberry, your face contorts, trying to fight off the slight tartness of the fruit. A vanilla wafer finds its way onto your spoon as you take another bite, providing a wonderful crunch to your ice cream. As you consume it, you fear that you might have died and gone to heaven. Rae's occasional THUMP as she bangs her head on the table is the only assurance you have of your continued survival.Finished with that dish, you all head out into town, trying to find a bar to hang out in.[ ] Toowoomba Tavern calls you.[ ] Drunk Down Under is more your style.[ ] Jacob's Bar and Grill might be more accomodating.
>>20325051Can we pick all of the above?
>>20325051>As you consume it, you fear that you might have died and gone to heaven. Rae's occasional THUMP as she bangs her head on the table is the only assurance you have of your continued survival.Toowoomba Tavern sounds interesting.
>>20325051Lets go for the most upscale place possible, just to make Rae suffer some more.
>>20325104You can only be in one bar at a time.
>>20325051[x] Toowoomba Tavern calls you.Because we want to get smashed, but not TOO smashed.
>>20325051[x] Toowoomba Tavern calls you.And I think Rae's suffered enough. But only help her out financially after the night is over.
Toowoomba Tavern looks about right. It's not so brazenly trashy, nor is it really high-class. It's more of an in-between bar, the kind of place where you could get drunk if you wanted to, but also where you can sip a drink all night if you wanted to. At least, that's the impression you get from the name and front of the place. "Well, shall we enter?" Miranda asks. "I guess," you answer and push open the door. As you look around, you notice a decent amount of people inside. There's several of what you guess are off-duty military personnel, a few women, and a lot of guys that, if they aren't washed up, are well on their way there. Rae surveys the room, then nods. "Yeah, this will do. WATCH IT BOYS, WITCHES IN THE HOUSE!" Miranda cradles her forehead in her hands as she shakes her head at this outburst. "What are you trying to do, Rae?" "Isn't it obvious? Guys love Witches," she says with a grin. Indeed, the majority of the bar's occupants have brightened up at the new arrivals. Of course, that doesn't mean everyone; the bartender is indifferent and most of the women look annoyed...as does one familiar face. Sitting in front of several empty glasses is a very haggard-looking man you recognize from the restaurant: John.NEXT TIME ON SUBWITCHES: THE HANGOVERTuesday 8PM EST 7PM CST
Tonight on Corsair Witches:REV UP THAT ACE COMBAT BECAUSE WE'RE KILLING SHIThttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wiskH1UE4c&feature=BFa&list=PL603B95A0585BE24A
>>20325331
>>20325275Excellent as always Kotters. Glad I managed to catch the end of a thread for once.
His gaze whipped over to the Leviathans, who didn’t seem to be able to track them this low. “All right, you sons of bitches,” he snarled. “Your fucking space wizard machines don’t work so hot a hundred feet over salt water. Come on down and dance!”The Witches, far above and vastly more maneuverable, were soaring between the masers, their shields sparking when a rocket or bullet got too close. As the sleds and needles dove to engage their human targets, the Witches were right behind them. The waters filled with alien aircraft as the agile little girls hammered away at them. The few Martian craft that stayed high swooped low over the Leviathans, scraping their pursuers loose on the floating islands of guns.Chrichton twitched the stick up and left, listening to the Martians angrily yammering at each other. Did they not have radio security or something?Behind him, the water kicked up plumes of white and purple. He slammed the aerial rudder to the right, staying as level as he could, as Heidmack angled his plane up a hair to spook off the Martian with some Browning fire. “Thanks, Major!” Chrichton said, his eyes scanning the air for more targets. There were a lot of them. The sleds were sinking towards the water, the needles breaking off to engage the nimbler Witches. The Paladins, the female ones anyway, were firing their silver-chased fifty caliber guns at the sleds that lingered. Their numbers were still disconcertingly large.
>>20325359You flatter me with undeserved praise. Perhaps if I felt as good about this thread as the previous one...Alas, writing is not so simple! Thanks for the encouragement either way, I'm still trying to figure out how to best improve my quest writing.
One of the American pilots screamed as a maser beam cooked him, and he plunged into the water. Heidmack barked his orders. “Pilots, break and engage again, but watch those altimeters!” Chrichton pulled back on the stick, praying to God that the Leviathans wouldn’t be able to track them that low. Sure enough, the masers weren’t firing. He narrowed his eyes as a thought struck him.“Duberstein, Garms, Blair, get back down to the deck and head for the Leviathans. Their guns can’t track at the same elevation as the guns themselves, they can only fire up and at angles,” Chrichton said on the flight channel. “We’ll keep you covered.“Got it, boss,” Duberstein said for the three of them. The three grey Mustangs broke from their formation and arrowed for the nearest Leviathan.“Beyside, watch my ass, I’m going to watch theirs.” He followed the three at as high an altitude as he dared, hoping against hope…“Contacts! Human ones! We have the first flight of Italians from Civitavecchia!” someone said over the radio.“Italian pilots, listen to me! The Leviathans have MASSIVE triple A, so stay low! Their guns can automatically track! They shredded us before!” Chrichton said over the broad band, in Italian.“Acknowledged, American,” a pilot’s voice said. In the far distance, a few blurs above the horizon dipped down to where the majority of the Americans were now flying.“Good…” Chrichton whispered. The Witches, he noticed, were now flying much lower, too. The air was getting a little thick.“I’m on the Leviathan!” Duberstein said, firing his Brownings at the ship at maximum range. To Chrichton’s vindictive joy, the ship didn’t react at all. Of course, that meant the Brownings weren’t penetrating the armor, either.
“Wally, dive to the wavetops!” Letty’s voice suddenly yelled.Chrichton reacted, pushing the stick forward until all he could see was blue water. He pulled up at the last moment, then pulled pack even farther, burning his smash in a loop. A stream of maser fire arced past him, from a sled that was now wallowing, trying to evade. Chrichton managed a burst into his side as he screamed past it, but Letty finished it off with a salvo from her Breda.“Thanks, Letty!” Chrichton gasped. He forced air back into his lungs.“Forget that, get your pilots back here!” she yelled.“What?”“Your flight!” Chrichton whipped around in horror as nearly ten sleds descended towards the three pilots he had sent towards the Leviathan.“NO! FOURTH FLIGHT, BREAK!” he screamed over the flight’s channel. It was too late.
Blair’s Mustang exploded as a sled got a lucky rocket into its topside. Chrichton grimaced, adrenaline flooding out the anguish. “Boss! Get us the hell out of here!” Duberstein yelled.“We’re coming!” Chrichton slapped the throttle to the top of the slot, lurching back in his seat. He held the triggers down, sending a sheet of bullets after the sleds. One lurched and lost altitude, clipping the water and shattering. The others kept it up, some firing their purple tracers and invisible maser beams at the two surviving pilots.“You two Yanks! Break right, immediately!” an authoritarian new voice said. Both Paladins obeyed, banking as low over the water as they could. As the Martians turned to follow, Luisa soared over Chrichton’s head, firing a stream of burning bullets at the alien craft. Letty and Beyside followed suit, while Chrichton nudged his stick right and kept firing.The alien squadron erupted in purple smoke, and no fewer than five of the remaining nine sleds dropped. Beyside whooped. “YES! Holy hell, they’re falling apart!”“Burn!” Luisa snarled. She dropped the empty magazine from her gun and reloaded, igniting and accelerating the bullets with her mind. “Get the hell away from Rome!”Another sled exploded. Chrichton released the triggers as the other four sleds scattered. The alien chatter was panicked and loud, now…“Letty! Fire straight up!” Chrichton instructed. The perky girl shrugged and fired her Breda above her head. The sled that had been lining up a shot on Luisa shuddered and banked off as the big bullets tore into its airframe.
“Thanks, Wally!” Luisa gasped, belatedly aware of the danger. “How did you see him?”“No time! Get on that Leviathan!” Chrichton barked, thumbing his selector over to rockets. The surviving three pilots of his wing tucked in behind him, launching their payload at the now-defenseless Martian warship.The impact-fuse rockets slammed into the hull, painting it black and lighting it ablaze. The ship’s weapon ring sloughed off into the water, leaking purple smoke. Garms laughed. “FUCK YOU, SQUID! GO FOR A GODDAMNED SWIM!”The ship exploded, casting debris in every direction, as a plume of water the size of a cathedral erupted from the sea. Letty and Luisa opened their shields, protecting the four Mustangs from the falling Martian slag and saltwater.“Wally, you and your boys got it! You must have hit something soft, because that ship’s history!” Letty exclaimed.“Great, now get up here!” one of the other Paladins growled. Chrichton looked up at the fight still raging overhead. The surviving needles were tearing into the human pilots with a vengeance. Even as he watched, Garibaldi swooped down to the waves, trying to juke a pair of needles. Fisher sidled up behind his pursuers, but it was too late. A rasping alien sound came from Chrichton’s radio. Garibaldi’s plane started to pull up, but the needle nearest him fired, sending a rocket into the water ahead of the plane. Garibaldi tried to fly through the ball of fire and steam, but didn’t emerge.The alien voice laughed.
Chrichton snarled. “We’re coming,” he called. Garibaldi’s killer and its wingman split in different directions, and Fisher followed one. Chrichton settled in behind another, spitting lead. The needle reacted, rolling to the side. The radio chatter turned curt. Chrichton watched from the corner of his eye as Beyside slid in behind him. Fisher’s target broke hard, heading for the one Chrichton was chasing. The two needles were pointed almost directly at each other. Chrichton’s eyes narrowed as the alien chatter started making that counting sound again.“Fisher, break left and prepare to fire in seven…six…five…four…three…two…one!”Just as he reached the end of his countdown, the needles split left and right. Chrichton jerked his stick to the left and found his sights pointed straight at the needle Fisher had been chasing. Fisher opened fire and tore apart the one Chrichton had been dogging. Chrichton fired too, and his target disintegrated.“I got him!” Fisher hollered. “How the fuck did you know when to do that?”“I just knew,” Chrichton muttered.
A fireball to his left announced the death of another sled under Smith’s fire. Chrichton tilted his plane back down to wave height. “Paladin Leader, this is Skybird Leader. Request permission to dance, Major?” a new voice said.“Permission granted, and it’s about fucking time! Stay low, those masers are AA!” Heidmack snarled.“Roger that, Major, diving to the deck. ETA is three minutes,” the voice said. Chrichton groaned. That was forever in a furball.“Acknowledged. Be advised that the Leviathans are carriers, not battleships. Keep an eye on their escort of needles,” Heidmack said over the radio.“You bet, sir. Skybird Leader out.”Chrichton wrenched his plane to the side as a sled shot past. Letty was on its tail, machine gun blasting away. Chrichton glanced at his fuel gauges and groaned. All auxiliaries drained. Fifteen minutes of combat, maybe five minutes of flight…twenty minutes left. He would have to land in Italy somewhere.“Boss, eyes on Heidmack!” Beyside said. Chrichton scanned the skies frantically for the Major, but couldn’t see him. “Behind us, boss, he’s got three needles up his ass!”Chrichton spun his plane about, staring in horror. The Major was frantically ducking and weaving his plane, leaking smoke from one engine the whole time. His wingman, Baysinger, was nowhere to be seen.“We’re coming, Major!” Chrichton snarled. He pivoted his plane to pursue the needles that were glued to his backside. He opened the throttle to Wartime Emergency Power, and engines hummed in his ears.“Meeker! Look out!” someone screamed. Chrichton looked to his side and saw Meeker locked in an evasive turn, with a sled tucked in behind him.
“I’m coming!” Smith said, pulling out of the furball with Eastmond on his wing. Chrichton turned his attention back to his squad leader, who was now almost within range.Heidmack was dancing. The old pilot had his machine turning so fast that for an instant, Chrichton wondered if he was actually looking at an oversized Striker. The needles behind him were juking and firing their rockets as fast as they could, but they couldn’t touch him. His Mustang was soaring over the wavetops like a bird. Chrichton mentally withdrew every objection he had ever had to a man at his age being an air superiority pilot.“Major, we’re on the needles! Hang on!” Beyside called. He switched back to guns from rockets, with the rest of Fourth doing the same.“I took a hit in the tanks, Beyside, just get me clear enough to cut out for Rome!” Heidmack said, his voice pained.“We’re coming!” Beyside opened fire on the rearmost needle, but it rolled out of the line of fire and spun back to fight the Mustangs. Duberstein and Garms peeled off to engage it as Beyside and Chrichton stuck on the other two. Chrichton fired, but after only a few bullets, his outer guns clicked dry.“Fucking hell, all I have left is the inner Fifties!” Chrichton snarled.“Same here,” Duberstein reported. “I still have six rockets, though.”“I’ve got two rockets,” Beyside reported.“Dry on rockets,” Garms said. “Hold STILL, you fucking squid!” he snarled as he closed on the needle.
“FUCK!” Heidmack’s left engine exploded under sustained fire from the needles. Chrichton gasped. His Mustang shuddered and spiraled down to the waves.“NO!” Chrichton slammed his stick down, trying to get closer, but it was too late. At that altitude, bailing was an impossibility. Heidmack’s Mustang slammed into the water, fuel tanks ablaze. “MAJOR!” Chrichton stared, a hole like a gunshot wound opening in his stomach.“CHRICHTON, WAKE THE FUCK UP!” Beyside screamed. The other two needles, Heidmack’s murderers, were wheeling up, firing on him and his wingman.Wallace slapped himself mentally. “All right, you fucks, taste lead,” he whispered bitterly. He cranked his stick hard to the left, Beyside still tucked in behind him. The needles turned to follow. Purple tracers zipped past Chrichton’s windscreen, clean misses. His blood pounded in his ears as he wrenched the stick left again and yanked it up, soaring back towards them, and rolled his wings a fraction to evade their shots.Beyside didn’t, and waited another few seconds before turning to follow, much slower and farther out. A burst of fire from behind him indicated that the needle that Duberstein had been dancing with had fallen to Garms, at last. The other two pilots moved to follow him in chasing after the needles that Chrichton had lured into following him.
Suddenly the hunted, both needles accelerated, closing the gap between themselves and Chrichton, who had started weaving side-to-side, as broad as he could contrive it, and brought his throttle down to seventy five percent. He was losing smash, but then, he was trying to. At the apex of one wide sideslip, he suddenly rolled onto his right side and punched the throttle up, pulling the stick back, hard. He shot at a lateral angle to his previous course, and as one of the needles broke to follow, its long profile made the perfect target for Beyside’s punitive lead hailstorm.“Gotcha, fucker,” Beyside said coldly.The other needle clawed its way up into the sky, where the Mustangs couldn’t follow for fear of the Leviathan’s masers. Now, the battle was looking more even, as the grossly diminished Paladins found allies in the Skybirds and other planes that were arriving one-by-one. The other planes from Vadina were all gone, dead or bingoed out on fuel and withdrawn. The Witches were still reaping a massive tally of kills. Even as Chrichton watched, the brightly-colored Witches were tearing into the glider bombs, shredding them to fall into the Med.His plane suddenly lurched. Chrichton glanced down at his instruments in a panic. His fuel gauge was doing something terrifying. “Beyside! What the fuck just happened?” he asked.“I don’t know! I didn’t see you get hit, you just started leaking fuel! You had better head for dry land, boss, land at one of the Roman airbases!” his wingman reported.“I saw! Piece of shrapnel got you!” Letty suddenly broke in. The teenaged Witch flew over Chrichton’s plane, pointing. “A glider bomb cooked off overhead.”“Fuck.” Chrichton slammed his fist down on the instrument panel. “All right, I’m off.”
His plane shuddered again. The fuel gauge lurched. To his horror, the needle actually started falling as he watched.“Wally! Your plane is leaking! Roll onto your left side!” Letty said. Chrichton obliged, rolling so that the hole was above the fuel line. He sighed as the needle stopped dropping. Still, his board was telling a scary story. He wasn’t even sure he had enough fuel to land, now.Someone gasped over the radio. “Meeker, dive!” Chrichton looked up as Meeker’s plane soared overhead, falling apart at the welds. The cagey pilot was clearly trying to get a bit higher before bailing. Smith was tucked in behind the sled that had shot him, blasting away at its engine, but it was too late for Meeker. As the stricken Mustang raced overhead, Meeker strained the engine, trying to get enough altitude to jump.Letty lifted herself up a bit, straining her eyes. “The rest of the American and Italian planes will be here soon,” she said. “Sounds like the Leviathans are picking up the pace.”“They won’t survive long once they get within range of the shore,” Duberstein said. “The coastal defenses and the Marina will put paid to them.”“Don’t be so sure,” Letty muttered. Her sullen comment turned into a scream as a rocket slammed into her shield.“Letty, pull up now!” someone said. Letty lurched upwards, her shield flickering as bullets skipped off of it. A sled was moving up behind them, firing down at the quartet of Mustangs and the Witch protecting them.“Break off, Fourth flight, go clear my backside, then head to the nearest airbase. Refuel and rearm, then get back to the fight,” Chrichton ordered.
“You got it, Captain. Good luck!” Beyside said, peeling off to fight the sled. Duberstein and Garms waggled their wings and followed. Letty was about to break off and assist when another rocket slammed into her shield. She lurched, disoriented. A needle appeared out of nowhere, firing with rockets and tracer bullets. It was so low over the waves, neither of them had seen it until it was too late.Chrichton rolled his plane, trying to get out of the line of fire, as Letty powered her shield back up and turned to fire her bulky machine gun. She cut loose, firing from the shoulder. She raked the little Martian with tracer rounds, shattering it with her magical accuracy.“Nice!” Chrichton snarled. “Get the fucker?”“He’s sharkbait!” Letty said in the same tone. Just as the words left her mouth, however, Chrichton’s world erupted in flames.“ARGH FUCK WHAT” he screamed as red and yellow streaks on his canopy suddenly flared up.“Your engine caught fire! Jump, Wally, jump! I’ll catch you!” Letty yelled. Chrichton flailed for his parachute, then covered his eyes as something dark and heavy slammed into his canopy. Letty ripped the canopy off, sending it spiraling into the med. “JUMP!” she yelled, sticking her hands out. Chrichton ripped a small leather and oilskin pouch off of the side of the cockpit, tucking the strap over his head, then grabbed her hands as the flames licked away at him.Letty lifted, her arms coursing with blue light. Chrichton felt an almost indescribably agony in his elbows for an instant, then the plane was falling away beneath them. He whipped his gaze around, teeth chattering with fear.
Overhead, Meeker lost his fight with gravity. The pilot’s plane keeled over and started falling, engine completely dead. Meeker leaped from the plane, opening his parachute the second he was clear. Before it could deploy fully, though, a sled took a potshot at him, perforating the silk with tracer fire. Meeker flailed as he dropped towards the water.Letty stared down at Chrichton with desperate eyes. “I’ll come back for you! I promise I will!” she wailed. Then…she let go.Chrichton yelped in surprise as he plummeted towards the water, too low to open his own chute. The slap of his landing, really only ten feet or so below, punched the water out of his lungs and left him floundering. He rushed to the surface, breaching like a whale. He wiped stinging salt out of his eyes and gasped for air, looking around wildly. The immediate area was clear of Martian boats, but the Leviathans were drawing closer to him by the second. He started swimming perpendicular to their course, hoping to get away from them before they spotted him.A sudden splash behind him drew his gaze back. Chunks of metal from Meeker’s plane were landing all around him. He looked up-“Oh…God…” he whispered. An entire wing was dropping directly towards him. He froze, slowly sinking into the water, as guaranteed death fell towards him.ZAP. The wing disintegrated in a rush of blue fire, less than fifty feet above him. Chrichton howled in surprise as the light from the magical explosion burned into his eyes. Something shot over his head as he rubbed afterimages away.
“Wally! Hold still!” Letty’s voice – her real voice, not a radio signal – said from somewhere to his left. He blinked, squinting against the sparks in his eyes. Letty’s hands under his arms suddenly lifted him clear of the water. “Come on, we’re leaving!” she said.“Letty? What’s going on?” he asked, still partially blinded. “What was that?”“Luisa destroyed the wing! Hold on tight!” she said, clasping his arms with her magical strength. He looked upwards to see Meeker, clearly unconscious, draped over Letty’s back like a bag of potatoes. Beyond that, the whole world was nothing more than indistinct blobs.“Thanks, Letty…but I think…I think Luisa’s fire thing blinded me,” Chrichton said, eyes watering in pain.“I can treat you when we get back to the mainland!” she said, voice strained.“Okay,” Chrichton said, suddenly overcome with the shivers. Between the cold air whipping at his sodden clothes and the sudden drop of adrenaline, he was shaking like a leaf. “…Thanks,” he whispered.Before Letty could reply, the three of them shuddered and lost altitude. “Oh…shit,” Letty moaned.“Letty?” Chrichton asked.“I’m out of magic,” she said tiredly. She sounded defeated. Looking up at her through the whorls of light in his eyes, he saw her eyes slide shut, head low. “I…I can’t keep going…”“Then…just let us down gently and pop a flare, we can get picked up by the Marina after the fight!” Chrichton said.“Yeah…I’m trying…” she managed. The trio dropped a bit more, until Chrichton was nearly skimming the wavetops with his feet. Letty suddenly released his hands, and he dropped into the water.
He coughed the salt out of his throat and looked up. He raised his hands to receive Meeker as Letty shrugged him off of her shoulders. Letty scooted a few inches to the side and tapped a button on the top of each Striker. They ejected, leaving her barefoot and pantsless in midair. She hovered there for a few seconds, like a marionette on a string, before slowly lowering into the water.Chrichton slung an arm under her and kicked desperately as she dug a flare out of her shoulder bag and set it off. Meeker stirred as the warm water of the med in springtime splashed on his face.“Ow…what the…oh FUCK THAT!” Meeker suddenly yelled, lurching out of Chrichton’s arms. Chrichton released him. Meeker started treading next to them, staring wildly. “The fuck happened?”“Your chute got shot up, you bonked your dumb head on my Striker when I caught you,” Letty mumbled.“Oh, grand!” Meeker groaned. “Thanks a bunch.”“You’re welcome,” she muttered. She must have been pretty far gone, Chrichton reflected, if she couldn’t even tell sarcasm when she heard it.*CHOOM*Chrichton looked over his shoulder. One of the four remaining Leviathans had gone up in smoke. “That’s another carrier down!” he reported.“Whoop-de-shittin-doo!” Meeker snarled. “Where the fuck is the Marina?”“En route,” Letty murmured. Her eyes focused at last, and she gingerly started treading with the others, flare sputtering in her hand. “They’re coming.”“They better be,” Chrichton said. One of the Leviathans had broken course, and was turning directly towards them. “They’re breaking up. Spreading out.”“Bombs,” Letty said. She shook her head, clearing her throat. “The glider bombs. Where are they?”Meeker scanned the sky overhead. “I think the Witches got them.”“Good,” she said tiredly.
“Guys…that Martian is getting awfully close,” Chrichton said, squinting against the pain.“What the hell do you want us to do? Yell at it?” Meeker asked.“Letty, does your radio still work?” Chrichton asked.She nodded grimly. “Yeah, I called for a pickup from the Marina. They’re on their way.”A plume of water erupted nearly a hundred feet away. A sled crashed into the water, spewing noxious purple smoke. The three shielded themselves from the torrent of water splashing around them. Meeker yelped as he vanished under the water for an instant, surfacing a few feet away. Letty grabbed Chrichton’s shoulder like a vice, clinging for dear life. He looked over at her as she squeezed; even with his eyes injured he could see the terror in her face.“Letty, can I listen in?” he asked urgently.“What? Why?” she asked, teeth chattering.“Just trust me,” he said gently. The tone was undercut by urgency, and apparently she could hear it. After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped one earbud, and noise started filtering out. Alien blubbering mixed with human speech.Meeker paddled up to them, listening. “What the hell is that sound?”“Martian chatter,” Letty said.Chrichton closed his eyes and strained. The Martian voices still didn’t make any goddamned sense, but one of them was clearer than the others to him, somehow. It wasn’t saying a word he could understand, but…“Can you raise a shield?” he demanded.Letty tiredly shook her head. “No, I’m spent.”“Dive, then! Get underwater, now!” Chrichton said. He sucked in a breath and dragged the other two down. He cracked his eyes open under the waves and saw a few purple dots appear on the water, twenty feet away. Martian tracer fire.
He broke the surface, gasping. His pilot suit was feeling heavier and heavier. He could tread forever. Meeker spat out water and glared at him. “The fuck was that for?” he demanded.“We’re being strafed, genius!” Chrichton barked. He shielded his eyes with one hand, trying to see through the damage. “Do you see a Martian plane?”Letty’s finger pointed up. “There!”A sled was heading back towards them, already spewing bullets. Chrichton and the others gasped in air and dove again, willing the alien to miss. Bullets tore through the water on either side of them, and miraculously, none of them were hit.They surfaced again, but this time, the sled was done strafing. It came to a dead halt in midair, slowly turning on an invisible cushion of force. Its guns tilted down, drawing a bead.“THANKS FOR HOLDING STILL!” Giselle screamed, firing her massive mortar at the stationary Martian. The alien craft exploded, falling into the sea in a crash. Something heavy slammed into Chrichton’s head, and he coughed against the pain and dizziness. A flight of dark objects soared over his head – Giselle’s seaplanes. The rushing groan of the Italian cruisers filled the air, though they were slowly fading behind the buzz in his ears. Chrichton fought to stay conscious as the pain in his head overwhelmed him.“Letty! Get up here!” Giselle’s voice yammered, but it was broken and indistinct. Letty said something else as the other two Italian Witches came to a standstill over her head. Chrichton felt seawater rush up his nose as he fell beneath the waves into an endless, dark oblivion.
Aaaand that's a wrap, folks! See you all next time.
>>20325663You thought it was the end, but lo! you where wrong! (The following was writen by a comrade who couldn't be with us tonight so he forced me at gunpoint to post this)-------------------------Her bar was empty and cold as the harsh light of dawn filtered through the high windows. She slumped over the bar, feeling every one of the several hours of debriefing, and the many hours of flight time before that. Her magical reserves were empty, and there was a dull fog of exhaustion laying across her brain. The world seemed distant, like looking the wrong way through the antique telescope Immanuel had kept as a good luck charm. Immanuel, with his old fashioned attitudes, and his old fashioned tastes. Ha! His drink was even an old fashioned.She automatically ran through the steps in her mind: sugarcube, bitters, orange, mix, ice, bourbon. Garnish. Her hands twitched, half reaching for the ingredients as she remembered the countless times she had made his favorite drink. And with the gates of memory opened, and nothing pressing to distract her, she thought of all the other drinks she wouldn’t make again.Jones: He always wanted a sidecar, but he would never ask. He knew it couldn’t be easy to get lemons with wartime rationing. Hell, most people would have trouble getting sugar. But she knew who to talk to, and most importantly, how. So when Jones was too polite to ask for a Sidecar, always going for beer instead, well, she gave him beer. But she also slid a chilled, sugar-rimmed glass across the bar when he wasn’t looking. And he always smiled, that warm, true smile he so rarely showed anyone.
>>20325701Hartley didn’t do fancy drinks. He just wanted beer, and never more than after a long day of flying. She tried to find him a nicer beer, but he just wanted the same old stuff he always drank. Her father would have called it swill, but that was what Hartley wanted. He appreciated that she tried, though he never said as much. But every time he told her to just pour him more of his usual, and if he couldn’t get that, he would rather drink the fuel it took to get this new crap to the base, he always offset the harshness by leaving a little candy behind when he stumbled out of the bar. It was GOOD too. She didn’t know much about candy, but it didn’t taste like the stuff they issued to pilots. And he always had a few pieces on hand when she had something new for him to try.Smith just wanted whiskey after a hard day of fighting martians. Well, only one whiskey. He always, always switched to beer after one good whiskey. There had been a few like him back home, who NEEDED a drink at the end of a hard day, but held themselves with iron control. They never went much further than that first drink, and she respected that. There was always a reason, and you usually didn’t want to know what it was.
>>20325710Johnson, oddly for one of her regulars, and even more oddly for a pilot, was a teetotaller. He still came in with his wingman almost every day. It was a rare challenge, making new, non-alcoholic drinks for him. With few relevant memories to guide her, she was left with nothing to fall back on but skill. Fortunately, she had enough of that to spare, after an (admittedly short) lifetime of practice. She knew what should work together, and came up with some fantastic combinations he always appreciated. He also appreciated that she didn’t advertise the fact that he wasn’t exactly... drinking when he was drinking. He wasn’t the type to advertise much of anything really. She never did learn why he didn’t drink. And he never said so, but she knew where the stuffed bear she found on a barstool came from.Lee was his wingman, and the exact opposite. He reminded her of the peacocks she’d seen with her mother at the zoo. He was always fluffed up, trying to look his best, even if there weren’t any women around. He’d drink anything she made, and always thanked her for the effort. His thanks was very profuse, and at times disturbingly specific. If she’d thought he meant it, she might have done more than flick ice shavings at him, but he flattered all the witches outrageously. It was just what he did.
>>20325721And those were just the ones she knew, that hung out in her bar regularly. There were always recruits that would show up for a day or two, and vanish before she could get to know them, do more than register their faces and what they wanted to drink. Of course, she still remembered their faces, and she saw a parade of lost rookies passing by, who had ordered maybe two drinks at most. But she didn’t KNOW them, and that lessened the sting of loss. And that was almost worse, because it shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t.Shaking her head, Emily jumped as she noticed the array of filled glasses in front of her. When she was lost in thought, she had evidently gone beyond half reaching for ingredients. There was a whiskey, straight. Next to it was the last drink she had made for Johnson. There was a few beers, a sidecar, even an old fashioned. Piled together on the bartop, glowing in the cold morning light, was a mute testimony to everyone who had left her bar, but hadn’t managed to come back.
>>20325729Letting out something between a cough and a laugh, she reached for Johnson’s glass. The commander would never approve of someone as young as her drinking. But hey, she never did more than sip at anything to make sure it tasted right. And this didn’t even have any alcohol in it. She lifted the glass, letting the flavors of lime and mint wash down her throat. She had taken the non-alcoholic base for a Mojito, and reworked it a little to stand on its own. Johnson had loved it, ruffling her hair and asking for one more for the road. And then he had gotten caught by a martian in a dive from high and to his left. She was above him in an evasive roll when it had happened, and the martian minirockets had torn past her shield, stitching holes up the side of his spitfire. One of them had caught him across the front of his head, and she had seen his eyes, his quiet reserved eyes, always sparkling with some private joke, vanish in a spray of red. His head snapped to the side as his plane began to roll, uncontrolled. But not before she had seen his hand come up, pawing at the gaping wound that had been his face. It might have been chance, centrifugal force moving the arms in a lifelike manner. But she knew what she had seen, in that last moment before he was out of sight forever. As she drained the glass of the last drink he had enjoyed, her mind replayed the way his fingers clutched at the ruined hole while his mouth opened in an anguished scream. If she had rolled just half a second later, he would have lived. She would have been in place to shield him. But she hadn’t. Finally, the glass was empty, settling on her bartop with a gentle clink.
>>20325740Emily stared blankly at the empty glass. She was running through those same 5 seconds over and over, her eidetic memory dredging up every detail with perfect clarity. Lost in thought, her mind miles away over the ocean, she closed her hand around another glass, lifting it up. The crisp sugar around the rim melded with the flavor of bourbon and citrus. It wasn’t the best sidecar she’d ever made, but Jones would have loved it. Jones, who had put his plane between her and the martian she’d been too distracted to shield against, still stunned by seeing Johnson’s death. Her shield had been pointing exactly the wrong way, so it only served to catch the debris that flew past her as an explosion tore apart Jones’ plane behind her. A dozen small cuts, now bandaged, had opened up as jagged metal flew past her. That metal, and a half dozen things she had struggled desperately not to recognize, rested in front of her for the half second it took to reposition her shield and roll away. Now though, with her memory replaying the scene over and over, she couldn’t help but begin to resolve those broken things. As her mind worked, naming this thing parachute fabric, and that a hand, she slammed the empty glass down, and desperately grabbed another.
>>20325760Lifting the fresh glass, she looked down into the amber fluid for a moment, before tossing it back. The whiskey slid its way down her throat, smoother than straight liquor had any right to be. Smith had never gotten to try this brand. It had arrived while they were out in the air, flying interception on the martian attack. The martian ambush. Smith died first, shattered by sleds dropping out of the clouds behind the them, as the wing began to dive on the inbound buzzbombs. One moment he was there, pushing his yoke into the dive, and the next he was just an expanding cloud of shrapnel. At least he didn’t suffer.Every fresh drink hauled new memories to the fore, her magic holding them there with perfect clarity. There was nothing to distract her, alone in her bar, from the pain of the past. Held prisoner by her magical memory, she was trapped by her pain. Scenes of bloodshed and loss looped in front of her unseeing eyes. Only by moving to another drink, another loss, could she push away the one surrounding her. It was the instinct of a wounded animal, reaching desperately for anything that could save her.
>>20325770But soon enough, there was only one glass left. Head spinning, Emily held the old fashioned in front of her. Immanuel, so proper, and stiff. He was the gentleman’s gentleman, for all that he was a pilot. Unlike the others, she hadn’t seen him die. He had been with the wing before the ambush, and when it was over, he was gone. The officers handling her debriefing had been quite curious about that. With her perfect memory, how could she not remember what had happened? But no. She had been over the battle time and again in her memory, every frantic moment frozen in amber, preserved forever by her magic and her mind. And still, somehow, she had lost the man that flew on her wing every time she went up. The man who she should have been protecting was gone, and she didn’t even know how he had died.At least for the others, no matter how much it hurt, she could remember how she failed them. But Immanuel? The man who had taught her more about flying than all her training combined? He was gone, and she had nothing left of him to hold on to, nothing but the pair of boxes behind the bar and the glass in her hand.At least drinking it wouldn’t bring back his death, she thought, raising the brimming glass to her lips. Maybe it would even bring back something pleasant, like the first time they managed a perfect Thatch Weave together
>>20325778She took a cautious sip, then stopped, immediately spitting it out. It was wrong! Couldn’t she even get a simple drink right anymore? The glass, and its inexplicably salty contents, sailed across the room. It exploded there, leaving a smear of the spoiled alcohol across the wall.Why? Why did everything she touch fail? How many more people would she get killed? She had seen the looks as they dismissed her, telling her she was being placed on administrative leave. She could remember them perfectly, the disdain on that officer’s face, the pity in the eyes of the witch who had taken her sidearm. She knew what they meant by administrative leave. No more flying, no more patrols. No more pilots dying because of her. They’d let her keep the bar, but they wouldn’t be visiting her there. No one would. All her regulars were gone.She was a failure. All she could do right was mix drinks, and she couldn’t even do that right anymore. Everyone would know too. She had seen what had happened to one of the rookies who came back alone. No one said anything. They even let him keep flying. But everyone knew he was cursed, and kept their distance. He was outside the camaraderie of the base, even avoiding her bar, until one day he didn’t come back. He had crashed into a martian fighter, and even there he was better than her. He did some good when he died, redeeming himself, but she was grounded, and couldn’t even do that.Even if she wanted to make sure she couldn’t kill any more friends, as if she had any left, they took her sidearm. She had failed them all, especially Immanuel.Immanuel!
>>20325787Emily sat up, swaying, and started fumbling with the two boxes behind the bar. She still had his present! He had been teaching her to shoot, but he was gone. The gun he had given her though, a beautiful pearl handled pistol, was still there, shining in its box.Hands shaking, vision blurred with drink and tears, she remembered Immanuel showing her how it worked. The magazine release was here, bullets went in here, and the magazine slid in again, locking it in place. Just rack the slide, and you’re ready to go.The metal of the gun was cool against her sweaty temple. Again she saw the spray of blood as Johnson’s eyes vanished forever, and shuddered, pulling the gun away. No, not there.The metallic taste of the barrel was harsh on her tongue, and she closed her eyes, trying to block out the fusillade of deaths she had failed to stop. Hands shaking, her finger tightened on the trigger.She woke up. No! Where was her gun? She was just going to get someone else killed! She looked around frantically, searching for something, anything, that she could use to save the world from her failure.She woke up. No! Where was her gun? Why did her wrists hurt so much? Who were the people holding her down, why wouldn’t they just let her die?She woke up. No! Where was her gun? Why was her throat so raw? Why couldn’t she move? Why was she tied to this damn bed?She woke up.She woke up.She woke up.(don't worry, its not over yet)
>>20325814To the attention of Base Commander StraussFrom Chief Medical Officer Boyer Regarding the case of Miss Anderson: It is my understanding that her self inflicted gunshot wound has caused severe trauma to certain regions of the brain. We dug several X-Rays show several fragments of bullet and bone in the hippocampus region too deeply embedded to safely remove. This trauma appears to have affected her ability to form new memories, though it is possible that her talent of an eidetic memory is still intact. Though one week has passed since the incident, she does not seem to be aware of the passage of time, forgetting all events within approximately one minute. She continues to attempt to continue the regrettable course of action which brought her to this state, and has therefore had to be restrained. This is both for her own good, and for the good of the attending nurses, as she has already injured several of them. Unfortunately, it appears that neither mundane healing, nor the magic our medical witches are capable of hold the potential for her recovery. We are barely beginning to understand the ramifications of her injury. It is therefore my recommendation that she be kept sedated until we can arrange for a more experienced witch to attempt healing her. This would be both as a mercy to her, and would help avoid further damaging morale. Several patients have noted that they find her situation disturbing, and have asked to be relocated.Signed, Chief Medical Officer Boyer(Liek dis if u cry evry tiem)
>>20325841Lyke
>>20325841Why would you use that image? WHY?
