You are a fighter pilot of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing, and you've just watched a Martian glider-bomb strike the USS California directly amidships. After driving off Martian attack-boats, after strafing their sea-skimming torpedoes, after doing everything in your power to save the California - a heavy, armor-piercing bomb slides in low, slamming into the beautiful warship's side. Terror, shock and rage jam together in your throat as the moment coalesces into the brittle, sharp and crystal clear realization that hundreds of good men are about to die.
>>20499738
inafterpanzer
>>20499738...well SHIT.
All hail our new Martian Overlords!
>>20499738damn..
Commandeer the California, gnome it to safety.
>>20499738Those fuckin' martians.
>>20499738Eh, she's HUGE, she won't go down that easy.We need to channel our RAGE to do what we can, killing EVERYTHING small!
>>20499754Well played sir>>20499738Gentlemen. It is time for vengence
>>20499738Go Mars!
Fuck yeah
paste those tentacle bastards
Light dem Martians up.
Stand back, I'll frag this Charlie.
>>20499738One bomb. One.Unless that bomb is Packing s Nuke-equivalent warhead, the ship is fine.We have things called watertight bulkheads, you know. Compartmentalisation is beautiful.
And then the bomb bounces off. You can actually see the pointed, armor-piercing cap smash and deform before inertia flips the tail of the bomb up, sending it flipping tailfin-over-nosecone right over the California, high over the superstructure when it finally detonates, the brilliant blast blinding you for a second. The California sails on, and though the sailors on the secondary battery barbettes and AA stations were bowled over by the blast, the ships fire hardly slackens as she steams for the AA umbrella of the island. "HOLY SHIT," you remark with the cool, dry wit of the born combat aviator. "Holy she-it," Ian comments with the cool, dry appreciation of the chronically underinterested. "What the fuck happened up there!" Sean bitches. "I hate flying backwards all the SWEET FUCKING STEAM-SLED IN A SLEIGH AT SIX O'CLOCK-">WAT DO
>>20499862"It bounced off!"Glorious. Now, take out some steam sleds.
>>20499862GIVE HIM DA GUN!!Serously, give the turret over, and go EVASIVE
>>20499862>do that thing wherein the Sled gets shot down, but we don't.
>>20499862"That one bounced"
>>20499855We also have things known as "the armor belt". Specifically, the "14-inch Armored Steel Plate" armored belt.>>20499862"Hey, you nice witches, do you think you could stop bitching at each other and CLEAR MY FUCKING TAIL"
>>20499862Get shot down by the sleds and drown.No wait, the other way around.
Check our status on ammo and fuel, and take out the sled.
>>20499862"It didn't penetrate"Heh. Nice one. And here I thought it was going to be a dud.
>>20499862>That one bounced!>We didn't penetrate their armor!>We didn't even scratch them!
>>20499862Fucking negative waves! Why can't martians sink silly american ships?
>>20499971AMERICA STRONG, WITH SHIPS BUILT TO LAST
>>20499862Tell Sean to quite whining like a baby and take control of the turret while we break right.
"BALLS," you comment cleverly and slam on the rudders, fighting the Widow into a violent bank and break-turn. You turn hard for a little bit, then roll the ship through inverted and end in a 90-degree bank the other direction - all at about 100 feet of altitude in a brilliant display of airmanship. "I FUCKING HATE YOU-" Sean is screaming. Philistines. The 'Sled pulls out of its steep dive without taking a shot at you and barrels in at the California, its front vanishing in the smoke of multiple rocket launchers going to work. The California's 20 mike-mikes hammer in reply, bright tracers leaving faint contrails of smoke as they lance past the attacking Martian. The 'sled pulls out of its strafing run late, barely missing the California's conning tower, shedding debris as some 20mm shells find their mark.
>>20499988>WITH SHIPS BUILT TO LASTEven the Martians agree, why else would they have stolen the Fitzgerald? Or been able to STILL successfully land their invasion force and disembark even after everything we threw at that fucking Laker?
>>20500015Jesus, these faggots can't aim for shit. Light up their ass!
>>20499915Krupp cemented plate. It's a Naval Architect's cocaine.
So much for going to bed early.
You take a moment to assess the situation. You've got holes in your windscreen where the armored glass had a disagreement with Martian machine-gun shells, your radar's been shot to hell, you're running low on fuel and your cannon ammo's probably close to spent. "Think we're gonna pack it in, guys." Sean mutters something about packing you into a suitcase and shipping you to Rapeville at Dark-o'clock, but Ian just murmurs assent. "Where you want to put in?"You turn your eyes to the sky, now even darker and grey with tumultuous tempests in the offing. "Eddington Strip. Barin's runway probably copped a bomb or two, besides-"- you glance sideways at the castle, almost hidden from view by drifting puffs of AA smoke -"- it's kind of busy right now." You swing your Widow's nose towards the shore opposite Castle Barin's wee island, where a simple grass landing strip is ready for the many occasions when Barin's single, insanely-placed runway can't handle incoming volume or emergency landings. As you do, something huge and Martiany-metallic plummets past your right wing and plunges into the water."Holy shitburgers!" Robin yowls, doing a swift evasive roll almost for the hell of it. "What in the bloomin' brothels of hell was that!?""Whoever taught her that language is going to get their asses kicked," you snarl. "And shitburgers is MY line, squirt.""That was a drop-pod shell," Ian says. "I think."It takes you a long, long moment for that statement to blossom into a thought. >Look Around>Run for it>ALL THE EVASIVES
>>20500131Sleeps for Faggots!
>>20500145>Look Around"Hey California, there's something else in the water over here. Please kill it."
>>20500145Ooooookay, the martians have zeroed in some REALLY LONG RANGE ARTILLERY ON US. AS IN FIRING FROM MARS RANGE.Which means we need to a) NOT GET HITand b) FIGURE OUT WHAT THEY WILL HITSo, >Look around,and if appropriate>ALL THE EVASIVES.
>>20500149>>20500131
>>20500115Huh, I was reading about the history of naval armor on wikipedia earlier today.I think I started with hurricanes.
>>20500145>Look around>all the evasivesFor as long as we can hold out. We need to radio where they may be heading
>>20500160It was probably just a nap anyway, I don't sleep well, ever.
>>20500145>Look AroundGet data, relay data to the right people, through Robin if we have to.
>>20500145Let's have a look-see
>>20500145>Shore opposite Castle BarinIsn't the Dover area kinda ... martian-y right now?
>>20500145Look around.Also, congratulate Robin on not getting shot down yet.
>>20500188>Naval Arty range>Royal NavyMartians: NO BEACH EPISODES ALLOWED
>>20500145Maximise evasion, where there's one there's more. Actually lets not try and dodge incoming drop-pod martian forces, no way they would hit us.
>>20500145>Look AroundIf the Martians are dropping drop-pods, there's got to be more on the way. We'd better see where they're coming down so we don't run into them while heading for Eddington.
>>20500188That map isn't *entirely* accurate. Draw a line from the Westernmost edge of the London GHQ line straight down to the coast; everything to the east of that line is still human-held
>>20500145My body wasn't ready
"Son of a bitch, do these freaks ever give UP?" you mutter, scanning the water. "Hey Sean, hop on the radio and tell the Navy nancies that they've got a new playmate." You wheel in a gentle right-hand turn, Robin tucked into formation at your right wingtip as you scan the water. "See anything?""Can't see shit, cap'n," Ian comments. "Wait! Thar she blows!" You squint at the piece of black martian steel in the water and jerk the yoke back to steepen your turn, hoping to get some cannon fire on it before it sinks away. You're just leveling out and lining up the gunsight when your left wingtip explodes. The Widow bucks and vibrates dangerously as you reduce power on the port engine a smidge, standing on the right rudder pedal out of reflex. Thankfully Robin climbs out of your way. "They're all over us," Sean says calmly, and you hear the top-turret's quad-50s start barking. "We're fucked."
>>20500345Fuck. Looks like it's time to bail. Fire the remaining ammo at the thing and get the fuck out.
>>20500345We gonna lose our beloved P-61, huh?
>>20500368Again.
>>20500345Shit. ABORT. ABORT.
You shove your ship towards the waves, spinning your trim wheels madly to rebalance your wounded bird. You hope the Widow's black paint against the dark waves will give you a chance, but every sideslip and evasive puts you in the gunsights of another Martian. Sean's shouts alert you to each, but you're not evading, just jinking fire. They've got you boxed in top, left and right. "Robin, get the fuck out of here!" you scream."NO!" "Break right and fly for Barin, draw them away and towards the guns! Only hope!" you shout. You know you're fucked anyways, but at least this way Robin will survive. "NO!" she roars, twirling gracefully away from a few corkscrew rockets. "NO," she snarls, flying so close to your right wingtip you can see the buttons on her uniform as she reaches inside her uniform shirt and pulls out something long, black and rectangular. "LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE, YOU SLIMY FUCKS!" she screams, snapping the long black rectangle into the action of her 1903 Springfield.
>>20500345Lets get out of here.
>>20500345No need to worry, we're Main Characters, I'm sure we'll be fine.
>>20500345BUG OUT BUG OUT GOOOOO FAAAAAAST
>>20500345Okay, it's time to leave.Let's get the fuck out of here.
>>20500375Could be worse
>>20500345Fucking Martians.
>>20500381I don't know, this sounds like a Bad End.
>>20500392>dat fucking Socks and Cookie
>>20500392Oh boy. I approve.
>>20500378Rifle grenade?Rifle grenade!
>>20500392But where is her nose? Noses are important!
>>20500378Shit is about to get real.
>>20500392Wow. Cookie is hotter than I imagined.
>>20500442OPA GANGNAM STYLE
>>20500378Goddammit, we are not going to let Robin sacrifice herself for us!
>>20500392Oh my, I like this ~
>>20500433
>>20500392Not bad, though you should be careful not to upstage the show with delicious Cookie
>>20500378Oh, gawd, is that some explosive ammo?!
>>20500456NOSE THIEF
And then Robin starts firing on flaming full-auto. Ruby bolts of death spew from her Springfield as she swings it around like an avenging angel, shooting behind her as she flies "on-her-back," climbing over you and parking right above your canopy. Brass casings ring and rattle off your damaged canopy as they pour from the rifle's side. Suddenly Robin jackknifes, swinging her strikers behind her to fly towards your tail. She darts out of view. Something loud and furious sounds from behind your Widow. But not as loud as Robin on the radio. She's past simple words and deep into the arcane lexicon of animal snarls and snorts, and it's pretty hard to hear over the stattaco chatter of her allegedly bolt-action rifle. After several more seconds of this, everything gets quiet. Well, aside from the scream of wind through the small holes in your armored glass canopy and the overheating engines and Robin's bawling on the radio."Sean, are they gone? Sean?" You sigh and switch from intercom to radio. "Robin, holy shit!""They're gone," she says, "B-b-b-ut Sean isn't moving! I'm behind you and I can see him and he isn't moving-"How does this make you feel?>TERROR>RAGE>waitaminute
>>20500378THAT'S NOT A RIFLENADECANNOT END WELL
>>20500519>waitaminute
>>20500519Fuck! Fuckity fucking fuck-fuck!
>>20500378>TERROR>RAGE>waitaminuteAll these goddamn feels
>>20500519>WaitaminuteLand. Get to ground and then check. He may, just may be blacked out. If not, you may just be looking for a new Radar operator.
>>20500519Celebrate
>>20500519RAGETERRORGRAAAGH!BUT! Waitaminute. We need to hightail it to Eddington; if Sean's hit, we need to get him to a field hospital.
>>20500519OH FUCK
>>20500519RHHAHHFHJAJKHJDJHJ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD WE KILL THEM ALL AND BATHE IN THERE BLOOD!!!
>>20500519>waitaminuteSean is too much of an asshole to die. He wouldn't die without saying one last dickish thing. That's impossible, it goes against the laws of the universe. I disbelieve.
>>20500519>waitaminuteHe probably shat himself.Either that, or he's getting back at us for our little "imagination" bit once we left the Saratoga.
>>20500519REJOICE!
>>20500519Eat
>>20500567shit?
>>20500573and die.
>>20500519Spieß voran!Drauf und dran!Setzt aufs Mutterschiff den roten Hahn!http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9sVcRxopJU
This happened already.
>>20500519What the fuck kind of black box allows a 1903 Springfield to fire full-Auto, or near enough to?
>>20500620Magic.
>>20500620The magic sort. She was already pulling ridiculously fast firing rates if I recall correctly.
>>20500620Autoloader.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pedersen_deviceThis is the best I can come up with
>>20500647Looks like we have a winner.
>>20500519>waitaminuteWhat's going on here?
Spare none in your fury
>waitaminuteYou've just survived yet another combat sortie with implacable enemies, narrowly avoided death in a well-timed ambush, and are facing a difficult landing in a damaged plane. But you've got that itch on the back of your neck again, and a familiar little thrill in your spine. Something's going on in the back, something with your friend Sean, and you have a horrible certainty in your heart you know exactly what you'll find. With the trim wheels against the stops, you drop your gears and have Robin fly close, wiggling each big wheel to check they've locked. Letting out the power and dropping the flaps, you flare beautifully and set the Widow down on Eddington Strip with little trouble. The grass airstrip isn't made for fighters of the P-61s size, but low on fuel and emptied of ammo, she glides to a stop without digging any divots in the hard-packed earth. Taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you reach under your seat and find the small, round can you hoped you'd never need. Swallowing hard, you kick open the floor hatch and shimmy down the ladder, then run to the rear of your Widow. There's bullet holes in the perspex canopy, and blood is splattered all over, obscuring your view inside. One bloody handprint is visible on the plastic.You steel your nerves and wait till Robin finishes her own landing, There's no Striker Stands, so she just falls on her fanny and wiggles back out of them, an action you note Ian watching with undue interest.
>>20500714MEDIC!
>>20500714Oh fuck.How are we gonna say this to Mio?
Where's our healer little sister?
>>20500714Oh wow, someone died.
>>20500714...why would there be a hand print? And why is Robin not panicking more?
>>20500714HELP NOW!
>>20500714oh fuck, get sean out now
>>20500738Sean hit, and Robin doesn't know that yet.
>>20500714Press X to save sean
>>20500714My body is mostly not ready
>>20500714http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0t0uCWjQ6OgSSSSSSSSEEEEEAAAAAAANNNN
>>20500766XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxx
>>20500714
>>20500738Sean gets shot.Sean puts hand against chest unbelievingly.Sean puts hand against holes in glassSean drops hand.Bloody handprint left behind.
>>20500714>an action you note Ian watching with undue interest.And Ian asks us why we throw him to Perrine at every available opportunity.
>>20500392Is.. is that Deculture's art?
>>20500714not ok
Robin comes sprinting over, but when she sees the blood smeared on the radar operator's canopy, she comes to a sudden halt. Her face goes slack and tears begin to welt at the corners of her eyes. You solemnly walk to the floor hatch, and, with a deep gasp of preparation, knock on it. Nothing."Is- is he-"Then you open the hatch, pull the pin on the orange smoke marker grenade, fling it inside, and SLAM the hatch shut. "Got a smoke?" you ask Ian."Sure do, cheapskate." Ian fishes in his flight jacket pocket and produces a pack of Chesterfields, which you immediately snatch from his hand and ignite - the whole thing - with your Rommel-engraved Zippo. "Got any smokes?" you ask him, flinging the flaming pack of Chesterfields behind you. "Sure do," he replies, producing another pack of Chesterfields. "God dammit, we're celebrating!" you object."Good point," he says, producing a pack of Lucky Strikes from his opposite pocket - and proffering them to Robin, who's looking mighty confused at this point.Behind you, the Widow's rear crew hatch falls open, and a coughing, sputtering, orange-tinted Sean comes oozing down the ladder, covered in red liquid. "Fucker," he groans. You smile. "Orange ya glad I didn't say banana?"
>>20500805No shut up he was just pouring ketchup on his fries when a stray bullet hit the bottle, then he wanted to say hi to robin so he touched the window.
>>20500822Hahaha
>>20500822Hey, no one forget to get a replacement smoke grenade. We might need another.
>>20500822SON OF A BITCH
>>20500822wat
>>20500822Oh, it's just hydraulic fluid.Kick his ass for making us worry.
>>20500822Oh, fuck you, planefag. Toying with my precious heart like that..
>>20500822
>>20500822Well... so... he got shot in the arm? The leg? Something non vital?Perhaps grazed on the head with a bit of shrapnel?
>>20500822TOLD YOU PEOPLE.MAIN CHARACTERS.
>>20500873Hydraulic fluid.
>>20500880Ah. Missed that bit.
>>20500822oh that crazy sean
"How did you KNOW?" Sean gripes, still coughing. "You already pulled this shit once-""But I had special effects this time!" he complains. "I timed it just right. I had a witness I fooled - in the crucial moment-" Sean is looking mighty put out.Then Robin kicks him in the shins. "JACKASS!" "HEY! WHAT!?""JACKASS!" she declares again, winding up another kick. Sean swoops her off the ground, holding her at arms length, where she kicks and flails for his body ineffectually. "Hey," Ian says. "Take off your goggles.""Okay." You lift them from your head and red immediately hazes your vision. "What.""Scalp wound, above your left eye."You feel for it gently. "Oh." The world goes sideways, then you're suddenly lying in the grass. You pass out.
>>20500912Goddammit, not again.EVERYONE REMAIN CALM. DO NO FREAK OUT WHEN WE WAKE UP.
>>20500912
>>20500912Whoops
>>20500912Cribbing Anders playbook now, are we? Don't think I'm not onto you! The "Post-Sortie Pass Out" is classic Anders!
>>20500912AGAINWe need a frequent flyer card for Barin's infirmary.Also being friends with Miyafuji was a great idea at this rate.
Now we get mandated sleep!
>Wake up in infirmary in3...
>>20500973AMERICAN SLEEP
>>205009852...
>>20500973You mean that thing we do once a month?Also Kotters did you finish that fapfiction you promised us?
>>20500987In AMERICA
>>20500959Wait, the infirmary ISN'T our quarters?
>>20500912Concussion!When we wake up, the first thing we say is "Who am I?"
You bob to the surface of consciousness slowly and lazily, somewhere warm and comfortable. It feels like a real, honest-to-god bed, not a cot, so you must be somewhere in Barin. Something slightly itchy on your forehead announces the presence of bandages. Good. The bedsprings rock slightly, indicating another occupant. Mmm. How curious. >Greet>Gripe>Grope
>>20500998Madness.
>>20500987AMERICA
>>20500990...It's hard to write something this lewd, especially without experience.
>>20501007Grope. It's probably Sean trying to get back at you.
>>20501007Greet, grope to be sure.
>>20501007Greet'morning
>>20501007yes
>>20500912>Gripe>GropeThere is no "greeting" when you are a pilot
>>20501007>inb4 Ian>"Hey man, 'sup? They ran out of beds so they made us double up"
>>20501007Grope
>>20501007Greet/grope
>>20501007>Greet>Gripe>GropeYes. Technically the greet and the grope will be in the same action.
>GropeInb4 groping Patton.
>>20501007[x]Grope
>>20501007Greet"'Sup?"
>>20501007>GreetBe polite for once. IT'S LITERALLY THE LAST THING THEY'LL EXPECT
>>20501007>GreetOccupant is unidentified.Could be anyone from Mio trolling us, to Robin on the bed, to Minna, back to Mio trolling us by having a Marine wake us up.Better to be safe.
>>20501007[x] grope
>>20501007Stealthily acertain bed-buddy, *Then* grope, if not One of the little sisters.
>Inb4 grope Robin
>>20501007Kiss whoever it is.
>>20501014You can do it I believe in you.also: >GropeAlways >Grope
>Greet
>>20501035Hey man, it could Miyafuji, since she IS a medic witch. Or maybe Sanya. There's just no way to know, and I'd rather not find out by fondling what could either be underage jailbat or another man's balls.
>>20500822I'm 15 minutes late and no one called him on that pun?
>>20501007>GreetGreet first, ascertain identity, grope if appropriate.
Greeope
>>20501007Can we do some sort of greetgrope?
>>20501078> I'd rather not find out by fondling what could either be underage jailbat or another man's ballsWhat are you? GAY?
[x]GropeBecause I want to move this plot along, and that means stirring the pot.
00 Hail unidentified01 if female goto 0302 else get up03 if little sister got 0204 else goto 0505 if minna, grope06 else goto 02
>>20501079No, M14, bad.
>>20501095I don't know, the plot is coming at us at a pretty high clip, what with the Martian Invasion going on overdrive.
>>20501078Serve Miyafuji right. She touched us so it's only fair.
he watches it for the PLOT
>>20501110>ClipsRaaaaaaage
>>20501110That's the combat plot.Now we need to advance the romance plot. Besides, if its Minna and we grope her, she might not punch us.
Guys, what if it isn't Minna?
>>20501142Then we claim to be delusional from the head wound.
>>20501142>pilot
>>20501142Even then, always grope before you greet. Things get uncomfortable the other way around.
>>20501142Why would that change anything?
>GreetToo much risk. Enough time to grope after we've checked.
Greet, groping is a horribad idea if it's sister or male, and even if not it's likely to damage waifu chances.
>>20501142even better
greet. if minna, playful groping leading into sexy groping
>>20501176Then again, our sister has been insinuated to have...nah, nevermind.
>>20501007Try to see who it is without issuing a greeting.If identified as Minna Grope, otherwise Greet. Unless it's a Marine, Sean or Ian. In which case we must smack them.
>>20501187
>>20501170>>20501183>>20501176we're a pilot, groping IS greetingwhat are you, a navyman?
>>20501093>What are you? GAY?No, because I'm not Navy. Why else would a man grope another's man's balls, if not for being a filthy Navy man?
>>20501216i dont wan minna to rip our arm off to keep us from fooling with other wimins
>>20501222International form of brotherly greeting that transcends language barriers?
You decide, as an officer and a gentleman, not to just roughly grab at your lady fair. A proper and decorous greeting is required. "Whassap, Mac?""Three kills, Two partials, and I rammed a glider-bomb before it hit Barin," replies an unmistakably masculine voice.You roll out of the bed, hit the floor hard and just keep on rolling till you come near a nightstand, where you seek hasty shelter. You rise just enough to peer over the dresser. Lying in an infirmary bed is a man in Army Air Corps getup. You sigh with relief. "Sorry. Thought you were a Marine." A gorilla the size of a small house wraps one hirsute arm around your neck and hauls you into the infirmary bed behind you. "Aw, army boy looking for a Muh-reen for the night?" "KKKHRRRGRRR" you deny furiously. "Jackass," the Marine pilot comments dourly, shoving you away from his bed and kicking you in the rear to send you sprawling onto your own shared mattress again. "So how'd you do?" the other pilot asks. >Answer honestly>Make conversation>Ask what the fuck happened
>>20501007Grope'n'greet.
>>20501253>What the fuck happened? And why are you here?
>>20501253>Answer honestlyWe're the bounce lord of Castle Barin. Honesty is all we need.
>Answer honestlyThen ask what happened
Call in the fleet.
>>20501253>Answer honestly>Ask what the fuck happenedSpecifically, why the fuck were the Martians throwing drop-pods around; I thought those were for ground invasions.
>>20501253Honesty is the best policy. Especially when we're as awesome as we are.
>>20501285... what show is that from
>>20501297>Martian SEALs
>>20501309Mabu Rabu Total Eclipse.
>>20501309Muv Luv Alternative: Total Eclipse, PF
>>20501309Advanced Wars: Day of Ruin
>>20501253[x]Ask what the fuck happenedGod I'm glad grope didn't win out.
>>20501331>Muv Luv
>>20501323True.But if so, why not just use one of their stealth subs?
>>20501253Answer honestly.
>>20501349>God I'm glad grope didn't win out.Can you imagine what would have happened?We'd be groping a Marine.A male Marine. Who probably doesn't even have the goddamned courtesy to at least fly a plane.
>>20501309Muvluv.
>>20501351It's like the series is evil.
>>20501351>>20501369They have the best ships
>>20501379Needs more dakka.
>>20501379how does that not capsize?
>>20501379Well fuck, thats some shop.
>>20501379How does that many guns even work?
>>20501379>This will be perfect against the BETA!>Laser-class fucks them up hard.Anyway, back to SWQ. Answer honestly
>>20501395Because it's a shoop.>>20501366No, we wouldn't be groping a Marine, we would be groping an AAF guy. In FRONT of a Marine. Which is worse.>>20501253>answer honestlyHa ha time to make that Marine feel like a dick for kicking a MoH awardee in the ass.
>>20501366Except it would have been Minna if we said grope...
>>20501434minna being in the infirmary sleeping on top of us after a massive battle that undoubtedly had a ton of casualties would make zero sense
>>20501253I am suddenly horrified that I chose ">grope".
>>20501449It's the power of love.
>>20501451Heh, pussy. Learn to accept the consequences of your choices.
>>20501451Maximum homo unless its declared beforehand.
>>20501451Bitch, you ain't foolin' no one. You knew that whole time.
>>20501434Where is Minna anyway? We should go see her and get a situation report and make out a little
>>20501485We haven't talked in 2 months. Feels weird man.
"I'm the Bounce Lord of Castle Barin," you reply honestly."Well," he replies in a truly hamtacular John Wayne accent, "they call me the White Knight of Alexandria."You snigger and introduce yourself. He shakes your hand firmly. "Anders. James Anders. 48th Fighter Squadron. Recently arrived from the Med by way of half of fucking Europe." "Ayah," you marvel. "Didn't I see something on you in the Stars'n'Stripes?""Yeah," he admits. "Newest joint unit, great success, I'm spectacular, and all that." He squints at you suspiciously. "Didn't I see *you*-""So what's your ride?" you ask quickly. Reporters can smell the *thought* of Tesla and sharkplanes, and one may lurk under any nearby dresser. "Oh, Lightning.""Ah... then why'd they send you touring Europe? Fighters don't have to take the long way.""They had us babysitting some B-17s the last leg of the trip. Funny things with a pair of tank cannons rammed into the bomb-bays sideways." Recognition dawns.
>>20501494In-universe it's been less than a day. But yeah, we should see her.
>>20501495CROSSOVERS AHOY
>>20501515>Crossing over with SWQ is impossibleFeels bittersweet, man.Also, has anyone here read that story? What should I know about this character?
>>20501495you can't do that snake
>>20501495>didn't grope Anders
>>20501532I know that feel
>>20501635But Panzer, Kota actually writes his quest.
>>20501645BUUUURRRRRRN
>>20501635>implyingYours takes place somewhat concurrently. I'm in July. And on the other side of the planet.
>>20501495Planefag, did you fall asleep in your chair again?Or did you have to go catch another horse?
>>20501689It's only been 15 minutes.
"Holy shit," you say. "You - you remember a P-61?" He blinks - then breaks into a shit-eating grin. "Yeah! Big Brother!" You scowl, remembering that little radio drama before the fight began. "... yeah," you mutter, rubbing your face miserably. "Yeah. I'm Big Brother."Anders tries to stifle a snigger, but doesn't quite manage it. "Where'd you and Genie get off too, anyhow?" you ask him. "After I dove on those attack boats you kind of vanished.""I saw the glide-bombs incoming, and got a bit preoccupied with those," he tells you. "Spent my ammo on one, had to ram the other to take it out.""Those things sometimes have inertial fuzes, not just impact ones. That's insane.""Aren't you the guy that just bounced a shark-shaped lightning-plane over the Spruce Goose?" You open and close your mouth soundlessly a few times, then decide to recline against the headboard as if you're basking in your aura of incredible awesomeness instead of doing a dead-fish impression. Anders shifts to the foot of the bed, settling into the mattress. "So what's the story with you and this Genie?" you ask him, genuinely curious. Genie sounds a lot like Minna did when you first met her; you wonder if he's had any more luck.
>>20501771By more luck you mean Genie isn't crazy? Or that other Witches are far more seductive?
>>20501771HAHAHA PLOT TIME
>>20501806less wrangling to get in her pantsu
>>20501771Why are we ashamed at being called big brother?We're a DAMN GOOD big Bro
>>2050181590% of which was us fighting each other.
"Well, you know the story," Anders replies. Behind him, the door of the infirmary opens to reveal a pretty, short and remarkably busty blonde with stormy wrath in her eyes."Boy meets girl," Anders continues. You listen with half an ear as your brain collates the woman - undeniably a Witch, from her lack of pants - with some other busty blonde you're familiar with. "Boy saves girl from certain death at the hands of alien invaders on at least three occasions over nine months, and girl wants to tear the boys nuts off for making her look bad." The Witch - whom bears a close resemblance to Lynette, you now realize - stalks across the infirmary floor. Two small, strong hands fall like hammers upon Anders shoulders, gripping tight. Anders gazes at you with the most cool, calm expression you've ever seen. "... you are an ice-cold son of a bitch."You nod."Tell my wingmen I met my death with dignity."You nod warily, looking at the Witch standing behind him. Her jaw muscles are trembling with the effort of grinding her teeth together in rage, but tears are trickling from her eyes as she glares daggers and dirks at you. You haul ass out of there without saying anything, as the Witch's glare warned you to. >Wat do
>>20501771TIME FOR PLOT?
>>20501857Find Minna, acquire sitrep and makeouts.
>>20501857See Minna?
>>20501885In the Biblical sense.
>>20501885>>20501879>MinnaGuys, guys, aren't we forgetting something?>Find out if OUR FUCKING PARENTS ARE ALRIGHT
>>20501857
>>20501901We can do that while seeking Minna
>>20501901Fuck that.>Are we wearing pants?>If not, get pantsEvery time we end up injured, something gets taken away.
>>20501903GOD DAMN IT AGAIN!?!
>>20501901Minn would know about that.
>>20501857While I would second the Minna vote, I wonder what happened to mum and dad (who were at Barin to see our medals). Are we at Barin, and if so, we should check on them. Family above all.
>>20501857Lets go check on parents, see if we won/castle Barin is still in one piece/who died. Though for all the martians inability to kill witches I don't know why they even bother with this war unless it really is just seeing if they can be killed off in combat.
>>20501857Check on the family, then asses the situation. If possible, we may need to get air borne again soon.
>>20501857look for minna and or little sister(s)
>Find parents, find Minna, check on everyone else along the way.
>>20501943>>20501954Parents and Minna are likely in the same place.
>>20501970...Did Cupcake get to them?
>>20501857Go find witches. Dispense hugs, salutes, or provocations as appropriate.
Having been in the infirmary - and snuck your way out - enough times already, you're well familiar with the local floorplan. It's no great hassle to make your way through the castle to Minna's office, where the door is hanging ajar. You peek inside to see Minna slumped in her hardback chair, elbow resting on a paperwork-cluttered desk, a forgotten cigarette burning down in one hand as she stares out the rain-streaked window. "eeeellloooooooo~" you drawl, knocking on the door perfunctorily as you stride in. She turns to you and for a moment her hollow eyes stare blankly before she recognizes you."Oh. Oh!" The dark circles under her eyes betray her weariness. "Sorry, I...">How goes the war?>How are you?>Man, you look like hell
>>20501994"Man, you look like hell"Ever the blunt one
know what, we need to check if that greasy italian rebuilt her mattress fort in the hangar while everyone else was out.
>>20501994>otherI saw Barin get hit. Everyone get inside okay?
>>20501994You look like hell.It's the bright fucking red hair that does it
>>20502005Suffer not the mattress fort to live
>>20501994>How are you? You look like hell
>>20501994Hows the war hell bitch?
>>20501994>>How are you? and >Man, you look like hellThe war can wait.
>>20502005I might not write it, but it's canon that Anders knocked it over parking his Lightning if she did.
>>20501994Man, you look like hell.
>>20501994Wanna try anal?
>>20501994"Fuck you look like me. Well a sexy female me with red hair and a really nice chest, and really nice legs... You look tied is what im trying to say"
>>20501994[x] Man, you look like hell
>How are you?I think he's matured enough to show some concern at times like this
>>20501994>How are you?>Man, you look like hellSomething like this, like a commiserating friend. If she's this far shot, may as well try awkwardly to comfort her.
>>20502042What in the hell
>>20501994Well, my dear, you look like hell. What tidings have you?
>How are you?
>>20501994Man, you look like hellWalk over, give shoulder massage
>>20501994>How are you?
>>20502048I think the 'You look like hell' line is us showing concern in our own blunt way.We're not great at being comforting, but we'll certainly try for her.
>>20501994Woods, you look like hammered shit
>>20501994You look like I'm supposed to feel.
>>20501994I think someone needs a hug. No words, just give her a hug, she's having a long shitty day.
>>20502116"Man, you look like hell">hug
"How are you?" you ask. "Fine.""You look like hell, you lying bitch," you reply immediately. You stroll in and pluck the cigarette from her listless fingers, smashing it into an ashtray. "Talk.""Everbody's listening to the radio right now," she tells you. "A major Martian fleet is marshaling off the coast of Spain. The Allied fleet is getting ready to meet them. They pasted our airbases pretty good - we won't be getting anything airborne in time to help, and even if we did..." she waves her hand at the drenching rain and low overcast sky outside. "It's not over yet.""For us it is," you say firmly. "We fought our fight, let the Navy fight theirs."She drops her face into both palms, elbows on her desk. "Since when did you get all sage and wise," she mutters. "Fuck wise," you snort. "I'm *tired.*" You dig into the bottom drawer of Minna's desk and locate some alcohol. Without checking the label you fill the single shot glass you find in there and lay it before Minna. "C'mon, drink.""No."You down the glass, then refill it. "C'mon, drink.""No."You down the glass. "I like this game!" you say, filling it again. Giving you a dour look, Minna snatches the bottle away from you and takes a healthy slug.
"man you look like hell" is not what you say to a girl you're interested in, /tg/.Then again, you're also the guys who voted to take Nanoha to a bar and grill for her date, so I shouldn't be surprised. [x]How are you?
>>20502175Drunk time? Oh boy.
>>20502175There you go, boss! So, take another hit and tell me how we did.
>>20502175>I like this game!You do dialogue like nobody else, Planefag.
>>20502191r u srs ?
>>20502175Ask her if she really does have those chocolates we were talking about in a thread long past
>>20502191What... I don't think you're thinking of the right quest, bub.
>>20502191No, but it's something you say to a comrade in arms.
"Happy?" "No," you say, draining the shotglass and coughing a bit. It seems to be some variety of brandy. You waggle it at her and she holds the bottle away from you defensively."The hell are you trying to do?""I'm trying to comfort you," you retort. "Short of that, trying to get you drunk and then get into your - oh, right."Minna regards you with blank weariness. >wat do
>>20502175>You down the glass. "I like this game!" you say, filling it againi'm so glad i refreshed the front page after my fantasy football draft
>>20502218parents
>>20502218Get her a pair of pants. We can't very well get in them if she doesn't have any.
>>20502218"Just tell me my parents and sister are all right."
>>20502175Ask if all the families got out fine.Then ask about that Italian and if she rebuilt that mattress fortress.Then ask if we need something stronger.
>>20502218>Parents"What's the damage the base took? The Civvies and Brass?"
>>20502218So how'd we do this time? And are my folks okay?
>>20502218"Fine, if don't wanna... I just wanted you to have some fun for once"
>>20502218"...What?"
>>20502218Ask about the condition of our parents and the other witches
>>20502218Come on, let me give you a hug. You look like you could use one. Let me comfort you properly, it's the least I can do. My parents alright? Is Robin doing okay?
>>20502218"I just got outta sick bay, my fighter's shot to hell, all the witches are probably outta sparkles. So long as the families got out okay, ain't no time like the present">find a bigger glass
>>20502218Parents, how the battle went, state of the squad. you know actually important things
>Pour glass>Drink Bottle
Minna's too wretched to even summon her Teutonic stuffiness, so you just stick to business. "My family? How'd the castle do?""It looks like hammered shit," she says, dejected. "Blown to hell. But all new stonework; the engineers will have it back together in a matter of weeks. Nothing serious. Almost everybody took shelter in the cellars, the old Roman foundations. They're fine. Your dad's been swapping old Postal Pilot stories with General Arnold, or so I hear." She sighs and takes another drink, tilting the bottle sideways and kind of splashing it in her mouth. "Patton is a pain in my ass.""What now?""Snuck out of the cellar during the attack and commandeered a .50 cal."You snort. "If he got shot they'd pin me as the scapegoat," Minna snaps. "Not very funny. And he's in another rage again, squeaking like a dachshund with his balls in a vise, about some Limey bitch he doesn't like.""What's that about?""Somebody who disagreed with his pre-war tactics essays, who else." she moans, laying her head on the desk. You sit in silence for a few moments."This war is too big," Minna says at length. "And I'm afraid I won't see the end of it."Not 'in my lifetime.' Just 'the end of it.' >wat do
>>20502381>hug
>>20502381"Speaking of pains in your ass, I got shot again. Let's fuck before they decide to aim an inch lower."
>>20502381haven't we already had this discussion? anyways, not much we can do about it as of right now, battered to hell and out of juice>hug
>>20502381Hug, rub her back. Just hold her tight for a while.
>>20502381>Somebody needs a hug.>Better yet, a good, long, quiet cuddle--far better for morale than slapstick or "we're going to die anyways" makeouts.
>>20502381We're too stupid to be able say something comforting here.>hug
>>20502406>>20502418>>20502424>>20502430>>20502433agreement? in SWQ? holy shit
>>20502381Fuck her in the ass. She can't hold things against us now, it would be like we're pittying her poor state and giving her sex as a compensation, what could be better?
She's getting all mopey again. Lets try a little less screaming this time.
>>20502381>hugfollowed by>lovin'That or prepare to be bounced. Perpetual situational cockblocking, inbound!
>>20502381Get her to stand up.Sit in her chair.Get her to sit back down again.THEN hug.
>"This war is too big," Minna says at length. "And I'm afraid I won't see the end of it.">Not 'in my lifetime.' Just 'the end of it.'Call her on this defeatest fucking bullshit. That shit is poisonous for morale, especially if it starts at the top.As the good Captain Mal once said: "We’re not gonna die. We can’t die. And you know why? Because we are so… very… pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die. Huh? Look at that chiseled jaw, huh? Come on!"
Just a little human contact. We can get intimate when she doesn't feel like she's dying inside.
>>20502470And then he watched enemy air support come in after he got told to surrender by High Command.And then the man he said that to literally seconds before got shot anyway.
>>20502452They want to say SEXY TIME BITCH, but they are too invested in their waifus to see her as the singular notch in our ever expanding list of wimmenz.
>>20502475hugs are on the okay side of that equation, if you ask me
>>20502381"Sure you will. I'm the one that's supposed to not last that long, right?"Comforting hugs. Possibly with her on our lap.
>>20502487>Ever-expanding>Cupcakes, on accident.>Uuuuuuh...>Nope, that's it.
>>20502487Look. This isn't MSQ. Stop acting like it is.
>>20502381>Inform her highness that she needs to restOur fight is over for now
"Doesn't matter if we see the end of it, it's what we see in the meantime that counts."I'm not sure if that's romantic or not.
>>20502564That's stupid and cheesy and I've said dumber shit when drunk.
>>20502579In other words, exactly what we would say.
>>20502598Thanks you, by when drunk I meant in the past 2 hours.
>>20502525>implying all quests are not the same basic thing with different flavors
>>20502579>I've said dumber shit when drunk.haven't we all>>20502564that's kinda cheesy...I don't think we're THAT drunk yet
>>20502616Unless you are including barfing noises: no, I haven't.
>>20502501This, plus: "Now finish you brandy. Let's get our sparkles back and grind us up some squid."
>>20502627Then you're a better man than I
At least we're not dead yet
Going to bed. Don't do anything stupid.
You stride around Minna's chair and lean over, hugging her. She mutters a bit but makes no formal protest, so you just hug her for a bit. "If you ever say that suicidal shit again I'll beat you up," you promise her, squeezing her affectionately. Minna straightens up so fast you're flung into the window behind her desk. She springs to her feet, kicks her hardwood chair out of the way, and her eyes flash with dark and terrible portent."What the fuck did you say to me?" >SORRY>YOU HEARD ME
>YOU HEARD ME She dont need that kinda of thinking
>>20502681YOU HEARD ME YOU BITCH
>>20502681
>>20502681That's right, we'll take her on, magic super-strength and all, 'cause a man's gotta fight for what he believes in, no matter the odds! Or...something.
>>20502681>YOU HEARD MESTARE DOWN THE BEAST.
>>20502681>YOU HEARD MEPlanefag you bastard. We go all in.
>>20502681Now THATS more like the Minna we all know and love. >YOU HEARD ME!
>>20502681"Bad morale starts at the top, Minna."
>>20502681>YOU HEARD MEEstablish dominance
>>20502681>YOU HEARD MEto death we ride, ever onwards"look, I've said it before and I'll say it again. If we got over our martyr-pilot-hero complex, then by god so can you"
>>20502681>SORRYBut I'm pretty sure>YOU HEARD ME
>>20502681>YOU HEARD METime to go down.
>>20502681>YOU HEARD ME"I'M NOT ABOUT TO LET SOMEONE I CARE FOR GO DOWN THAT ROAD!"
>>20502681>YOU HEARD MEIF YOU'RE NOT QUEEN BITCH OF THE SKIES THEN WHO WILL THE IMOUTOS LOOK UP TO AND OR FEAR?NOW GET OUT THERE AND BEAT A SQUID TO DEATH WITH A MARINE.
Holyshit we are such lady killers.
>>20502681I said you don't get to say that suicidal shit again. Did I stutter? We're going to live through this, we're going to kill every last one of the aliens. We are going to see the end of this war together. Is that understood?
>>20502681You heard me, my Teutonic flower.
God, we are BAD at being comforting. Hopefully Minna will give is points for trying.
>>20502781Or killed by ladys in this case.
This is it. Your finest, most perilous moment. Having come so far, and survived so much, you will not yield to the greatest test of all."YOU HEARD ME, BITCH!" you roar, slamming a fist into your palm. "Pull that shit and I'll trash ya!"Minna stares at you gauntly, her drawn, weary face strained by the inner pressure of some violent and terrible force. You see a faint blue aura spring into the air around her, and her hand blurs as she strikes you.Darkness.
>>20502835>next time, on SWQ
>>20502835>We are so good at this.
>>20502835...Damn.
>>20502835How tired are you of this story?!
>>20502835Well, it was a nice quest everyone.
>>20502825Not here to comfort, despite what everone things, we're here to get them to pull their heads out of their asses.
>>20502835Ah, onward to the medical ward again.
>/tg/ gets on a good point then over presses their pointI would say "never change" but we already have /v/ and /b/ being morons.
>>20502835Dohoho. I knew this would end well.
>>20502681>YOU HEARD MEIt is incredible how fucking good we have gotten at sending her into a frothing homicidal rage because of our own cluelessness.This is going to turn out to be one of those 'should have just fired our sidearm into the ceiling a few times' moments.
>>20502835Well, being beaten until we pass out is really the only way MC ever sleeps since he landed on Barin...
>>20502855it's like we never left. maybe we should pull out the rolling court martial again
I'll bet that was the last thing her boyfriend said to her before he went away forever.
>>20502864When you're right, you're right.
>>20502875>"YOU HEARD ME BITCH"some boyfriend
>>20502864A little late but goddamn I called that shit
>>20502681Oddly relevant? YOU DECIDE.Also, done. Ish. I guess. I am sure if anything is glaringly wrong the masses will make their voice heard. Normally I would wait for the NEXT TIME, but that hasn't worked so well the past few threads. What with the images and their limits.
>>20502862Sometimes, you've gotta stick to your guns, even though you know it's a fast track to the BAD END. If our sentiments can get chilled just because of some threats, they don't count for very much, now do they?
>>20502835damn, the medical ward really is our room
>>20502864Ah my finest suggestion.
Minna is a strong independent Teutonic woman who don't need no man. Apologizing would be disrespectful.>U HERD MI
>>20502864Oh no, we knew what we were doing. Pulling her out of her depression by putting her straight into rage mode, gets her spirits up the easiest way we know.
>>20502895Hopefully, we don't make that permanent.
>>20502895We should really see about just getting permanently set up in a private room in the ward. It'd save everybody a lot of time and hassle.
>>20502381What, not the story where he wanted to stick it to some stick-in-the-mud generals so much that he took THE PRESS up in his flight of prototype B-17s?
>>20502835Aww, no time for tackle into angry passionate sex/makeout?>We're going to wake up in the infirmary, aren't we?
>>20502891legs are maybe short in comparison to torsos but then donald duck is your reference here so w/e
>>20502916Where else would we wake up?
>>20502922Tied to her bed?
>>20502922Minna's bed, tied downI jest though, we should seriously invest in a permanent infirmary bed
>>20502892That doesn't mean much coming from someone that likely lives in a basement and is too afraid to even speak to a girl.I mean that sort of thing is false bravdo bullshit said to cover up the fact the person in question is a social fucktard.You must lead your parties to total party kills every single time.
>>20502922Let's try not to freak out this time.
>>20502910>Bring our shit and just drop it in one of the wards"THIS IS *MINE*""I *OWN* IT"
In the darkness, at the end of a long tunnel, there's a flickering light. You reach up for it, hoping, straining, following the light - - and then a dark shadow looms over you, blocking the light. Your reaching hand is seized, and you're hauled upright and slammed against a wall violently enough to make your head spin. The scents of laundry detergent and fresh sheets assail your nose."Wha- where am I?" you manage weakly.In the dim light, someone tall and sexy laughs an utterly shameless, self-indulgent, lecherous laugh. Its the laugh Pan sniggered aeons ago in the Greek isles, the laugh Baccheus and Cupid laughed in the depths of self-satisfied debauchery. "huehuehuhehuehuehuehuehuehuhe... WE'RE IN THE CLOSET."And then Minna kisses you.
>>20502922Minna's torture chamber?
>>20502951Close enough, looks like.
>>20502940I play my characters straight. If my character is a belligerent douche, then yeah maybe.
>>20502947
>>20502947>we're never coming out of the closet...Wait...
>>20502947>>20502951Huh you totally called it man.
>>20502947Aww yeah
>>20502940Spoken like a true doublethinking politico!
>huehuehuhehuehuehuehuehuehuhe... It's like I'm in a Papa-N thread.
>>205029477/10notbadobama.jpg
>>20502947So. We meet our greatest enemy once more...
NEXT TIME ON STRIKE WITCHES: SIR N'OO'PSALOT RIDES AGAIN!STRIKE WITCHES will resume TUESDAY, Aug. 30th, and we shall enjoy STRIKE WITCHES regular programming the following FRIDAY. BE THERE
>>20502947Well, I can think of worse ways to die, certainly.
>>20502990The closet.
>>20502980
>>20502947>"huehuehuhehuehuehuehuehuehuhe... WE'RE IN THE CLOSET.">>20502991>Tuesday, August 30thhuh?
>>20502991>N'OO'PYes.YES.
>>20502947What do we have to keep telling you people?TRUST. IN. PLANEFAG.
>>20502991>TuesdayYou mean Thursday?
>>20502947Go for the gold, you magnificent bastard!
>>20502991I want to cry. Its like... its like were going to have more than one thread this month
>>20503011uhh. I meant THURSDAY.They both start with a T so, uh
>>20502961Well in something like this, that tends to ignore character development, which is a lingering problem in this as people seem to ignore what character development the MC got and basically go "hurr durr PILOT"
>>20502991Good to know another important thing will come up to keep us from accidentally giving her the dick. Its the one thing in this thing you can set your watch by, nothing goes by uninterrupted in the closet.
>>20502991Will it be on Tuesday?Or will it be on the 30th?
>>20503055I'm almost impressed with whoever managed to do that to a B-24>>20503069...I just realized that there's precious little padding in said closet. Goodbye spine and pelvis, I knew thee well
>>20502991Good run tonight, Planefag. I enjoyed it, felt like old times!
>>20503059The technical term is thought terminating cliche.The language of the totalist environment is characterized by the thought-terminating cliché. The most far-reaching and complex of human problems are compressed into brief, highly reductive, definitive-sounding phrases, easily memorized and easily expressed. These become the start and finish of any ideological analysis.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thought_Reform_and_the_Psychology_of_Totalism#Thought-terminating_clich.C3.A9PILOTfags are fascists.
>>20503100They'll get better. That's what Miyafuji is for.
>>20502947Oh shit she just went full Brazilian.
>>20502835Man what. That option meant we go full shouting and start swearing and stuff?I'm pretty sure everybody thought it was less extreme than that, just not immediately backing down from what we said.Damn straight I'm complaining. Choices that don't even have your character react the way you planned are bad.
>>20503151Welcome to SWQ
>>20503118That conversation/explanation will be hilarious>how'd you manage to compact 3 discs, fracture 2 vertebrae, AND break your pelvis in two places>cats, meeafoojee...cats. Angry. German. Cats
>>20503151>Everyone made it more extreme than PF impliedWelcome to /tg/
IT HAS BEEN... TOO LONG. Archive up to date. I think. I'm reasonably sure.http://www.mediafire.com/?6xodwoeajwc8oazDemons of the Pacific 7 and I THINK Thunder and Lightning 22 coming up tonight. Maybe more, maybe not. Who knows.
>>20503055So you want a picture of No'op doing something? I am too tired to be witty at the moment, so just give me a starting point. This is totally unrelated to the fact he is way easier to draw than a person in a full flight suit. Totally.
>>20503194Being excellent at killystick?
>>20503223Shut up Panzer.
>>20503173I guess you're right, now that I read the votes with a calmer eye, they are a bit forceful. I formally renounce my previous statement.
>>20503194One day I will catch you and force you to draw for me.And then I will be the most powerful SWQU writer. Ever.
>>20503238Man, I tolju, I ain't Panzer.
>>20503238Oh bo ho, you are so funnyhttp://www.mediafire.com/?dl5jo68valn5tUnrelated note, here fapfolder, fuck kotters
>>20503259please do so, if only because reading about this in the news would be friggin hilarious
>>20503194>>20503259Drawfag dude draw incest chicken just to spite him.
>>20503259I got F14s an shit. no set day to run, though. ... you win this round, sir.
http://tofusaur.us/res/1371.htmlHappy fapping anon.
>>20503180Anders rolled over and around, deftly moving his Lightning out of the way of the stream of purple tracers. Throwing a glance backwards as he pulled the control wheel back and to the left, he spotted two needlefighters setting up on him. But while they were setting up on him, they hadn’t noticed Geneveve Bishop setting up on them. These two were hers, and Anders didn’t want to put any new holes in his Lightning proving otherwise. Instead he lazily rolled further over to his lift, turning it into a roll, keeping them interested but just outside of a good firing angle. Thus distracted, they were easy work for Bishop- her first burst chewed the stubby wing off the trailing fighter, throwing it out of control, while her second burst caught the lead needlefighter mid-center, causing it to almost immediately break apart midair. “Good shooting, Bishop.” He conceded over the radio, pulling out of the short dive and looking upwards towards what remained of the Martian flight- their fighters had been caught with their pants down and had been decimated, but the tougher Heavies had been scattered. Even now he saw one of the wounded batwings being picked apart by Zumbach and František, the Polish and Czech witches darting across it’s hulls putting bursts of automatic fire into defensive batteries and any other bit that they thought the Martians might need. As he watched Al Fallon’s P-38L, “Bugbite”, finished the job as it casually rolled up behind the wounded Heavy and put a four-second burst of machinegun and cannon fire into its hull. As the last of the Martian craft were driven off or destroyed, Ander keep his head on a swivel. “Form up and get ready because I doubt that’s the last of them.” He called out, eyes already searching the clouds for more targets. “Revenants Flight, How are you holding up?”
>>20503281b-but georgette is pure!
>>20503291>huehuehue
>>20503291Not anymore.
>>20503291And she's only doing it with the man she loves. That's as pure as you can get.
“Got a call from Thunder Goddess thirty seconds ago- spotted enemy fighters. No contact since then.” The lead YA-40 pilot reported. Anders swore under his breath. “Last heading?” After a moment the pilot reported back. “Nose gunner says he was heading Northwest, trying to get their feet dry.” “Anders! Contacts!” Flip yelled. Swivelling his head he could see another flight of Martian fighters closing fast from the South-west. “Damn- All flights get up to those fortresses and keep the fighters off them. Genie, with me; we’re gonna go find our lost little sheep.” With that he winged over into sharp turn, throwing open the throttles and turning towards the last known location of Thunder Goddess at over four-hundred miles an hour. It took less than a minute to catch up to the lost Fortress, currently being swarmed by nearly a dozen Needles and Steamsleds. “Genie, gonna go for a high speed pass, see if I can’t draw them off- Genie?” He looked back and realized that he’d left the British witch in the dust. “Well damn.” He said calmly, not changing his plans in the least. He nosed down, having a slight altitude and airspeed advantage on the maneuvering Martians, not to mention the fact that they were so preoccupied with the hardy converted-bomber that they never even saw him coming- He flew through them at nearly five-hundred miles per hour, engines screaming and guns hammering death into midst- he scored a direct cannon hit on a prick and watched it disintegrate in mid-air before raking the fifties over a sled.
And then he was through them, pulling hard on the stick to convert his airspeed back into altitude. Glancing behind him he saw his gambit had worked- the wounded sled was bugging out and five of the remaining Martian fighters were breaking off to give chase to their surprise guest. The Lightning was faster, though. Much faster. Even climbing to gain altitude he had more than enough distance to roll the Lightning and turn into their flight. His second pass was slower, scoring no kills but managing to break up their flight and keep the Martians from properly forming up on him. The cockpit vibrating with the staccato of a big gun going off, and he looked up in time to see the Fortress in a steep bank and one the Sleds that had been harassing her disappearing into a cloud of metallic confetti. He barely had time to connect what he had just seem with what he knew about the YA-40’s modified armament before a flash of purple reminded him of his own problems. He rolled the Lightning into a tight Immelmann, threw the conga-line of Martian craft off his tail again. “Thunder Goddess this is Red Lead. How’s your situation?” He forced the adrenaline of the dogfight out of his voice, going back to the calm, almost arrogant tone that every fighter pilot knew instinctively. “Engine four’s shot, but we’ve still got some fight in us!” came an equally calm Fortress pilot. “Geeks are learning that the hard way.” Another staccato boom shook the cockpit as the 75mm tank gun fired off another round, missing another fighter but forcing it to break off its attack.
Their conversation was cut short another burst of purple tracers passed over Anders’ canopy- a Martian steamsled had gotten a little too close and now Anders had to show them why that was generally unwise. He chopped thrust and nosed the Lightning down, dropping a hundred feet of altitude in half a second before hauling back on the stick. By the time the Martian even attempted to react he was already passing right through Anders’ gunsight. He held the trigger and tore the steamsled’s guts out from below. Ruddering over he turned the stall back into a dive and opened the throttles back up, now flying in the opposite direct from when he started the maneuver. Looking up he could see the rest of the Martian fighters scrambling to turn themselves to pursue him. He turned to get himself closer to Thunder Goddess but was stopped as the inky grey-black shape of a Martian Heavy emerged from a cloudbank on the other side of the prototype Fortress. “Thunder Goddess, evasives! Heavy closing in on your nine’o’clock!” He screamed into the mic. “Roger, Red Lead, bringing our weapons to bare! And keep an eye out- Jonesey got a hold of some fighters off the Lexington, they’re coming to lend us a hand!” The next three minutes were a blur of hard-gee maneuvers and tracerfire. The Navy fighters did a fine job of keeping the YA-40 clear of fighters while it dueled the Heavy, but that was because the majority of the Martians were doing their level best to fly between his Lightning’s twin tails. At some point, the YA-40 lost its duel, dropping from the sky with black smoke trailing from two of its engines.
stop sexualizing my witches!
The swirl of contrails, tracers and spiral rockets was finally broken by a black, twin-tailed shape diving across one of Anders rear-view mirrors, spitting cannon fire into his pursuers forcing a Prick to bug out- the rest of his train of pursuers splashed outwards in a flurry of evasive maneuvers, with only a Needle and a Sled managing to keep on his tail. It was the distraction Anders needed to finally end this fight. He threw the Martians through a set of high speed rolling scissors, and when he was certain they were nice and comfortable with the speed, chopped throttle and threw open his airbrakes. The Lightning shuddered as its velocity was cut in half and, with a roar, the two Martian fighters flew past his cockpit. He calmly put the crosshairs over the ‘Sled and pulled the trigger- a second and a half later it went flaming into the channel below. The last two of the untouched Martian fighters had already recovered the Black Fighter’s banzai charge into their midst, off of Anders to pair up against the newcomer. Meanwhile, the last Needle needed to be dealt with. Anders pressed his now-advantageous position on the Martian fighter, which was maneuvering wildly, trying to bait shots out of the human pilot. A quick glance at the ammunition counter showed he had precious few shots to waste, so he bode his time- time was on Anders side, ammo wasn’t. It wasn’t until the Needle made a break for the mystery fighter that he finally got a decent look at it- black, twin tails-By god it was a Widow, the twin-tailed nightfighter Lockheed had come up with when they figured out how well the Lightning had worked. He didn’t know whether the guys in that plane could hear him, but he hollered into the radio anyway. “Widow, got a needlefighter come at you from your three! Widow! WIDOW! BREAK! BREAK! BREAK!”
>>20503367Also, that picture is too lewd. TOO LEWD!
>>20503367no.
>>20503367sayeth he as he posts that picture
March 17th 1943, 19:00RCAF Station Comox, Vancouver IslandRose McNair and Johanna Wiese stood outside of one of the hangars at Station Comox, staring anxiously at the sky.“Wing Commander, please,” Johanna shivered in the cold air, “we should get back inside.”Rose remained stoic, staring defiantly at the sky. “They should be back by now. They should have been back hours ago! Something's happened to them.”“As we are now, we can do nothing but hope. You know this.”“I know,” Rose took a deep breath, “I know. I just- I should have done something. I could have asked for clarification. There was something wrong with that order, and I knew it.”Johanna stepped over and placed her hand on Rose's shoulder, gently pulling her back to the base. “But right now you can do nothing. Come, let's go.”“Yeah, just give me a second here.” Rose vacantly kicked at a few pebbles and laughed to herself. “Y'know, Scarlet kind of liked you, I think.”“Oh? I thought so, too. Does she usually find it hard to like other people?” Johanna cocked her head, missing the point by miles.“No, I mean,” Rose gave the German girl a look, “Like, LIKED you.”
“Oh? Oh! Oh..” Johanna started to blush, “H-how could you tell? I hadn't really...”“Back when we met you on the train over here, it was obvious for Jane and I, at least. I've only seen her try to show off that hard once before. When she saw that you were joining the unit she was trying so hard to look like she didn't care.”Johanna stared at the ground, completely red.“I think she still does. She'll get this look when talking to you. This,” Rose waved her hand in the air, trying to find a word, “genuine happiness. Like she's a schoolgirl again. You hadn't noticed?”“I hadn't really, I mean, she's a fine marksman and- and- she's a bit crude, but she's honest. Not an easy quality to find these days.” Johanna seemed to calm down and looked up at superior. “You really care about her, yes?”“Well, not like THAT, but yeah. We've been together since we entered the academy when we were twelve, which was around thirty-six. She's my best friend. Don't know what I'd do without her.”“This isn't going to be easy for you, is it?” Rose made a shallow nod as Johanna wrapped her arm around the blonde and began tugging her inside even harder. “Let's go inside. We can talk more where it's warm. If something has happened, I'm sure she'll make it back.”Rose nodded again, and the pair turned back for the base.
March 17th 1943 20:00Somewhere on Vancouver Island Ayaka Kuroe grunted and opened her eyes. Everything was dark, she was sore all over, and somehow she was still upright. It took a moment for her to realize what had happened. She smiled to herself, satisfied that her ingenuity had paid off. Her parachute had snagged on a tree somewhere, leaving her hovering off the ground at an unknown altitude. Ayaka reached out with one arm to grab a tree branch and began undoing the straps of her 'chute with the other hand. After a few moments, the straps gave way and she felt herself fall a few inches deeper into her striker, squealing in pain as she stubbed several of her toes inside of it. Ayaka grabbed the branch with both hands and hefted herself out of the battered striker. Taking stock of the situation, her outlook was grim to say the least. She was stuck in a tree, that was for sure. She couldn't quite make out where the ground was either. Last but not least, she didn't know what time it was and whether or not she was behind the front line. Ayaka held on for a moment and spat to the ground. The sound of it came far more quickly than she expected. The thin witch swung back on the branch and leaped gracefully to the ground.“Scarlet! You here?” she tried to yell quietly, coming out as something between a whisper and a shout. A groan answered her far off to the left. Running over, Ayaka spotted an arm and a pale hand reaching up from the ground waving.“Hey, Red. You okay?” Ayaka lifted a few branches off of the other witch and brushed some leaves off.“Got twigs in places I'd rather not, my pistol's jabbing into my thigh, and, oh! Pretty sure my leg's broken,” she grumbled, “how 'bout you, Crowy?”
“A few cuts and bruises, nothing too bad.” Ayaka stared at the misplaced bulge in Scarlet's lower leg, “Oh yeah, that's definitely not supposed to bend that way. Looks like a broken tibia. Should be able to fix it up for you.”“It's broken, Crowy. Can't just put a bandage on that and walk it off. 'specially out here, wherever we are.” Scarlet pushed herself upright and stared at the Japanese witch. “Hah, please. I'm a test witch. Broken legs are my job. After a few dozen I decided to get some basic med-magic training.” Ayaka cracked her knuckles and grabbed a branch. “Won't be perfect, but I can at least get you on your feet until we can find some real help. Now here, bite this.”Scarlet moved to protest, but Ayaka shoved the stick into her mouth horizontally and straddled the red-head's chest, pinning her arms with her knees. Scarlet began to let out a stream of muffled shouting, but Ayaka only held the stick in place.“Now, I like to consider you a friend, so I'm going to be honest; this is going to hurt. A lot.” Ayaka began to glow with magic as she placed her hands on the broken limb. Scarlet was silent for a moment and looked down. Then she threw her head back and started screaming.
Fifteen minutes later, Scarlet had two sticks bandaged on either side of her leg. Ayaka nodded, admiring her handiwork and took a seat on the ground across from the red-head.“So, now what?” she asked.“We should stick to moving during the day.” Scarlet answered. “I've heard rumours that squids can see in the dark. I'd rather be fighting them on even ground if we run into them.”“Great. So we're walking home?”Scarlet nodded. “Yup. You still have you radio?”“Yeah, still got everything but my sword.” Ayaka took the wire out of her ear and fished the wire out from under her clothes. “Here, catch.”Ayaka unclipped the small brown box and tossed it to Scarlet, who then put in the ear-piece and began fiddling with knobs. After a few moments she began speaking.“RCAF Station Comox, come in. This is Squadron Leader Scarlet Harrison reporting. Come in, Station Comox.”“SCARLET!?” an excited voice answered. “Where are you!? Are you hurt!?”“That you, Bobby? We're a bit beaten up, but we should be fine. Mind grabbing Rosie for me?”“Y-yes, ma'am!” Scarlet sat around for a few minutes sharing exasperated looks with Ayaka. Soon enough, Rose's stern but worried voice came on.“Scarlet!” The blond shouted.“How y'doin', sweet cheeks?”“This isn't the time. Report.”“Yeah, yeah. We're on the ground, somewhere in the woods. I think we went down about five miles west of Campbell River. Strikers are trashed and I've got a broken leg. I can walk, but not without help. We were planning walking to town in the morning. Sound good?”
Rose sighed. “Campbell River went dark about two hours ago. I don't think you'll have much luck there. You'll probably have to come back directly.”“That's a good forty or fifty miles on foot, Rosie. It'll take us a good few days at my pace, if not longer. A few hours ago you weren't even sure Comox would be there by the time we got back.”“I know, I know. They seem to be held up somewhere north of here. I'll see if there's anyone in the area that can give you a lift, but that's the most I can do. Everyone's been in a bit of a panic, if you hadn't noticed. Good luck.”“Yeah, I gotcha. Don't have too much fun without me, Rosie.” Scarlet disconnected the radio and took off her jacket. Stuffing the jacket behind her to use as a pillow, Scarlet turned to Ayaka. “Let's get some sleep. We'll need it.”Ayaka propped herself up against a tree and slowly closed her eyes. “Whatever you say, boss.”
Veronica “Woody” Woodward stepped into her bedroom and flipped on the lights. A small duffel bag sat alone on Scarlet's bed. Woody quietly took a seat upon her own bed and pulled a similar bag from underneath it. The young witch took a picture frame from her bed-side table and stared at it. The picture showed Woody smiling with two other girls, one in the middle with short, dark hair wrapping her arms around woody and another girl with dirty blonde hair and a french braid.Woody sat and stared at the picture for several minutes, occasionally nodding or shaking her head, clearly deep in thought. Eventually, a quiet knock came from the door.“Woody?” Rose's voice came from the other side. “You in there?”“Ah!” Woody squeaked and fumbled with the picture. “Y-yes, ma'am!”“Mind if I come in?”“P-please do!”Rose silently opened the door and looked Woody up and down, noting the picture still clutched firmly in the small girl's hands.“How are you doing?” Rose took a seat on Scarlet's bed. “I noticed your light was still on and thought I'd come check up on you.”“Fine, ma'am. Just fine.” Woody nodded a few times.“Good, good.” Rose leaned back, checking a few of Scarlet's photos and mementos. “Figured I should make sure, since this'll be your first night alone and all. You're tougher than you look, Woodward.”“I'm really not,” Woody mumbled, “not like some of my friends. If I was, I would have been sent out to the front or something.”
“That so...” Rose trailed off for a moment. “Funny, your record says otherwise. You got top marks at the academy. Better than Jane, probably on-par with Scarlet.”“But they sent me out here,” Woody grumped, “to the middle of nowhere. One of my friends got sent to a big, famous wing in Europe, another got to be part of the First Canadian Tank Witches and I got stuck here. There must be SOMETHING wrong with me.”Rose leaned forward and pointed at the picture. “That them?”“Y-yeah,” Woody handed the picture to Rose, “that's, um, Lynette Bishop on the right and Vivian Currie in the middle.”“One of the Bishop brood, eh?” Rose smirked. “And a Currie. Any relation to Arthur Currie?”“Oh no. No relation.” Woody giggled to herself. “Everyone always used to ask her that.”“I see that dreadful statue is still there,” Rose chuckled and handed the picture back to Woody, “even after all we did to it.”“Wait,” Woody stared up at Rose, shocked, “YOU put the- the, um, the, you know. That thing on the statue?”“Not personally, but I was there.” Rose leaned back. “I believe it was, oh what was her name? Emma. Or Emily. Something like that. She was good with heat magic and Scarlet dared her, then we started offering money. Soon enough...”
“Bu-But it's welded on!”“Oh yes. A few teachers brought her in to old Bishop. Tried to get her expelled. You know what the old bat did? Handed her a passing grade in magical application. Told her it was creative and performed with a high degree of skill. I think she went on to become an engineer of some sort. High demand for that sort of power.”“So, um...” Woody fumbled for something to say.“Oh! Sorry, sorry! I'm rambling,” Rose heaved a sigh and stood up to sit beside Woody, “just in that sort of mood, I guess. In any case, you've proven yourself a capable witch. Someday you might even be up there with the best of them.”“You really think so?” Woody fiddled with the picture frame.“Course I do.” Rose patted the other witch's head and ruffled her hair. “Now get some sleep, kiddo. Big day tomorrow.”“Y-you too, ma'am.”“Yeah,” the officer left the room and shut the door, “big day for all of us.”
March 17th 1943 23:00Somewhere on Vancouver Island Ayaka sat against a tree trunk, eyes closed, listening. The wind rustled the trees. Small footfalls of animals broke twigs and crushed leaves Crickets sang into the night. Trees groaned and snapped high above her in the canopy. Ayaka's eyes shot open. That wasn't right at all.“Scarlet! Hey!” Ayaka stretched out and kicked the other witch in the shoulder. “Wake up!”“Fugg you wan', Crowy” Scarlet grumbled.“Listen!”Scarlet sat up and looked around before fixing her gaze on the trees over head.“The hell is that noise?”Ayaka pointed up. “They're in the trees, Red. The squids are IN THE TREES.”The two witches stared up as dark spots shifted across the sky, blocking out the stars as they went.“There's,” Scarlet looked on in awe, “there's got to be hundreds of them!"“Sh-should we radio the base?” Ayaka stuttered, still horrified at what was happening a hundred feet above her.“No, they can smell radio waves or something like that.” Scarlet grumbled. “ 'sides, it's out of juice and so am I. What about you?”“Used it all up fixing that leg of yours,” Ayaka shrugged, “I'm dry.”“So we just sit here and wait.”
March 18th, 1943 06:30Terrace, British Columbia Rick Mabbs stared at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty on the edge of his bed. He was seventy percent sure he hadn't nailed a national hero the previous night. “Erm, Excuse me, Missus Bishop, ma'am, I-”“Bupupup!” Minnie Bishop wagged a finger. “If you're going to be all formal about it, it's Group Captain Bishop to you, dearie.”“Right. Erm, Group Captain. Ma'am. What?”“You see, Mabbsie-dear,” Minnie daintily hopped off the side of the bed, “it appears that you are the last person alive who knows the location of something I'm looking for. A lab, I believe.”Rick scratched his head. “You mean that tower in the mountains? The funny looking tower?”“Egg-zactly!” Minnie poked him in the nose. “Just so we're clear, you are THE Minnie Bishop, that right?”“I am Missus Billy Bishop, that is correct.” The witch plopped herself back onto the end of his bed.“Great, great. Pardon if it's not my place, but,” Rick looked the witch up and down once more, at which she stuck out her chin, batted her eye-lashes and put on a winning smile, “you don't exactly look like a veteran of the Great War.”“Cosmetic magic, darling. Bit of a hobby of mine. Keeps me fit and fighting! If I'm lucky I'll be looking like this when I'm seventy!”“I, uh, see.” Rick wasn't sure where his feels on that particular issue laid.“Now, now, dear. I'm a married woman, and happily too! You pilots, all the same~” Minnie teased.
Rick took that fact into account and reorganized his thoughts. “Right. So. Next order of business. Last time I checked, I had a hole in my side and Nathan was out an eye. How is he? And myself for that matter.”“Once a witch gets to be my age, fixing an eye is child's play, darling. Just a bit of shrapnel in the side for yourself. Nothing too bad. You flew in a couple days ago and passed out as soon as you left your plane, poor dear. But now you should be right as rain~!”“How oddly convenient.”“Isn't it just, dear~?”“Creepy. So where is the kid, anyways?”“Oh he's right over there.” Minnie gestured toward the curtain beside them. “He's still out, the poor dearie. Regeneration on that scale takes more of a toll on the injured one than the witch. Tricky business, eyes. No good for an airman to be colour-blind, now is it?”“No, ma'am. So, can I walk or move?' Rick poked around his side, inspecting the bandages.“Of course, darling, you're fine. What's say we take this conversation somewhere more private, hm?”
“Right, right.” Rick hefted himself out of bed. “Anywhere in mind?”“I saw this absolutely delightful little diner across the street that serves breakfast and I'm in the mood for pancakes! I'll write dear Nathan a note so he can find us.”Rick's uniform had been laundered and pressed, left at his bedside. He began going through the dressing routine while Minnie wrote her note.“Nice that they'd-” Rick looked up from buckling his pants to see Minnie bringing the note down from her lips. “Did... did you just leave a kiss mark on it?”“Has to know it's authentic, doesn't he? I sign all my autographs that way.”“I imagine the mister doesn't like that much.”“ 'fraid not. He never really took to putting on lipstick for it.” Minnie flashed her pearly-whites, most definitely a well-practised look for the cameras.“Right.” Minnie took after him and nearly slammed the door. “Oh come now! It wasn't that bad!”
>>20503223Eh, why not. Fapangel has veto power if he comes back before I pass out (very soon). So prepare to have your hopes dashed upon the rocks, forced into mere flotsam among a sea of tears and HUE. You know, normal thread stuff.>>20503259Fun fact: I don't actually exist. I am just a manifestation of the threads collective thoughts turned into random pictures. So you see, THE POWER WAS INSIDE YOU ALL ALONG.>>20503274Ok? Though I don't see what inbred poultry has to do with Witches.
March 18th, 1943 07:00Somewhere on Vancouver Island Birds were singing. Scarlet cracked open her eyes and was rewarded with an eyeful of rich morning sunlight, causing her to wince and shut them again. After a few moments she propped herself up and stared at the snoozing Japanese witch across from her.“Hey! Crowy! Get up!”The other witch didn't budge. Scarlet began prodding her with a stick.“Heeeey. Crowy. Wakey, wakey.”“WHODERFUGWUHDUHRMARTIANS?!” Ayaka flailed and fell over onto the soggy, moss covered ground.“Time to get going. We got a long walk ahead of us.”Ayaka righted herself and stood up. They were definitely in the woods. DEEP in the woods. The Japanese witch bent over and helped Scarlet to her feet. Firmly held up by Ayaka's shoulder, the redhead finally got a good look at their surroundings. Everything was green, so very green. And wet. Just as wet as it was green. The combination of morning dew and frequent rain made the forest constantly soggy. This would not be an enjoyable walk.“Alright. Quick check. Food?”Ayaka patted her pockets. “Couple days worth of emergency rations.”“Water?”The two witches shook their canteens. Each was a little more than half-filled. Scarlet nodded and took out her compass.“Heading, south which is...” Scarlet paused and pointed in several directions before settling on one, “thattaway. Same as the squids. Great. Let's get going.”Ayaka held up Scarlet as the two began walking, beginning their journey home.-----------------AND THAT'S ALL FROM ME. Comments, questions, criticisms welcome, as always. And I believe I see a raisin boat on the horizon...
>>20503537>inbred poultryokay, i laughed
Alright, people. It's time.Also, I think it's time I brought this out. I'm friends with a drawfag, and she did something of Mackintosh. Seeing how he's turned up in one of Fap's works, it'd probably help to have a visualization of what he looks like, eh?
Almost forgot. Since all the cool kids are doing it, I put Demons up in a pastebin. And somehow Demons 7 already has 15 extra hits. What the fuck you guys.http://pastebin.com/u/Grizzlyniisan
*December 18, 1942, tied Starboard To the Blackwall Steam Wharf, London*“Nick! Hey Nick, wake up!”“Uuugghhh....I swear to God, who the FUCK would dare to wak- Lawrence, you aren't helping the Corps' claims to intelligence. Why the hell are you in my quarters?”“Because your door was unlocked, and I got sent to fetch you. Here,” replied Wright as he passed the still-groggy Mackintosh a mug of coffee. “The Admiral says that they have enough information to brief on the Tennessee's situation now. Briefing in his reception room in 5, all department heads.”Mackintosh groaned before sitting up and accepting the mug. “We were up until oh-five-thirty just sitting around discussing what we knew, which wasn't much. We put out the torpedo nets, and then sat on our asses. What time is it, anyway?”“Oh-eight-fifty.”“Fuck me...” groaned Mackintosh. “Say, where were you? When I retired around six, you still hadn't reported back onboard. I would have thought they had suspended leave for everyone.”“Nope. They wanted to keep the Tennessee's loss a secret so they wouldn't start a panic. They aren't granting any new leave, but they're letting the ones who had one-day tickets report back as normal.”“I notice you still didn't answer my question.”
>>20503580The farm boy's face turned a bright shade of red. “Uh, well...after the shore patrol hauled you and Adams off, we were kinda left to our own devices. We didn't want to go dancing with a full third of our party gone. Georg-I mean, Lieutenant Lemare hailed down a taxi to head to the French military mission soon after you left, and that cadet sulked off,” He swallowed hard. “So, I offered to walk Christine home, she invited me in for coffee, we got to talking, and well...” he trailed off, his face a beet red.Mackintosh sniggered into his mug. “Me-o-me-o-my...” he said before taking a gulp. “Such SCANDOLOUS behavior for an officer to be partaking in! What would Father Jim say if he heard about this?”“Probably nothing,” said Wright, immensely relieved for a change in subject, “He's been ranting up and down the wardroom ever since I got back about the results of the US Army-British Army soccer game. Things like 'Those landlubbing flatfoots can't do anything right!' and 'I lost fifty bucks to that crook Nixon because of that game!'. He seems otherwise occupied.”That got a hearty laugh out of Mackintosh. “That's the first good thing I've heard this morning. Alright,” he said as he drained the mug, “Clear on out so I can put my uniform back on. I've got a briefing to catch.”
>>20503586** After some smalltalk, the briefing came to order. “As you all know, the USS Tennessee, the California's sister ship, was destroyed at sixteen-forty-five yesterday, along with most of her escorting flotilla. Slide,” said Admiral Lee as he walked to the head of the table that been erected in his reception room. The projector came to life, and displayed an image of pure carnage. There were at least three ships sitting on the bottom of Hull harbor, judging by the various masts and bows sticking up out of the water, not including the burning hulk of the Tennessee. “While the initial situation was one of pure chaos, it soon became clear that this was not an accident. 4 ships do not explode and sink simultaneously. That was confirmed by what we pulled off the USS Cony. Slide.”A new slide came on, displaying what was obviously a timed charge of alien make. “While the Cony sustained heavy damage via debris from the other members of the flotilla, the charges that were attached to her hull failed to explode. While there is the slight possibility that these were placed by human saboteurs, the Navy and myself feel that these charges were not made nor laid by human hands. Which means...”“Frogmen. Martian frogmen,” finished Captain Bunkley. He waited to let the murmurs this sparked to subside before continuing. “I don't know why or how they suddenly got the guts to operate underwater, but I don't care. It's an escalation in the naval war, one that we cannot fully respond to. We may have been lax before, but from now on torpedo nets are to be set each time we're in port longer than five hours. That clear, Deck department?”
>>20503592The First Lieutenant vocalized an affirmative before the admiral spoke up again. “The charges on the destroyers were all placed approximately amidships, based on the damage sustained and the recovered charge off of the Cony. The ones on the Tennessee, however, were placed differently. Our best guess is that they placed them directly underneath the forward magazine. Out of the approximately seventeen hundred souls that were onboard, we've managed to pull only 150 from the wreckage.”As the assembled officers murmured amongst themselves in anger, Admiral Lee continued. “Gentlemen, this heavily implies one unsaid thing: we were the only member of the Big Five to operating in Europe. The Colorado, Maryland, and West Virginia are all still in the PTO. The Tennessee only arrived from the Atlantic coast yesterday. To an untrained eye, we're identical to our sister ship. And the Tennessee docked in our usual anchorage,” He leaned over the table for emphasis. “Gentlemen, those charges were meant for us. We've attracted the attention of the Squids above other warships. They made their first attempt to kill a capital ship in this new method a ploy to get US. That they sank the Tennessee instead of us was nothing but pure luck; if we hadn't picked up Miss Lemare and got redirected to London, that WOULD have been us,” He let those words sink in for a minute before continuing. “I expect that knowledge to stay in this room until the Captain makes a speech announcing it once we're underway. Is that clear?”“Yes, sir,” came the resounding reply from the assembled officers.“Good. You are dismissed.”
>>20503598**A couple miles away, Georgette Lemare was dealing with a shock of a different kind. She was wandering aimlessly in the French Military Mission; her family had still not arrived from their refuge in the north of England due to rail traffic, and she hadn't been given a new assignment yet. So she found herself strolling in the front office, when she saw her own face staring back at her. As she recovered from the shock, she sat down and began to read. It was a newspaper from several days ago, and its headline was a giant “MIRACULOUS RESCUE”.As she read on, her own disgust grew with each passing word. The whole story was about how much of a miracle it was that she had survived, and that Mackintosh had jumped in to save her. (She noticed that apparently the Navy file photo of him has an older one, since he still had both eyes in it.) That the Gloire went down with all hands was buried at the end of the article, a single line all the newspaper felt fit for them. After staring at it for several seconds, she balled it up and threw it in the trash in utter revulsion. As Lemare stood to get up to give the trash can a kick for good measure, she paused at the sight of a long ornate wooden box. “What's this?” she asked as she picked it up.
>>20503616The receptionist glanced up from her typewriter. “Oh, those? That's a box of Croix De Guierres meant for some soldiers in King's Military Hospital. We just haven't gotten around to giving them out. Why, you want one?” Lemare glanced up from the list of recipients to glare at the receptionist. “Right,” she said as she snapped the box closed, “I'm going out. I'll be at the hospital if you need me.”The receptionist stammered after her, “W-wait! You can't go! You've got an-” She was cut off by the slamming of the front door.** “...For extreme bravery in the face of enemy action, risking your own life to rescue a downed French aircrew at all costs, the French Republic awards you the Croix De Guierre. Congratulations, Wachtmeister Rudolf Edelmann. You have our thanks,” pronounced Lemare as she pinned the medal to the young man's chest and saluted. He returned the salute as best as he could with the cast on his arm.“Um, excuse me, Fraulein?” Edelmann asked in accented French as she turned to go. “If it wouldn't be much trouble, could I get your autograph for my sister in Bremen? She looks up to you witches, and well, you're the first one I've been able to meet ever since I joined the Heer. She'd go absolutely ecstatic if she could have it.”Lemare looked at the wounded German for a moment. “Absolutely. What's the little girl's name?”The wounded German's face brightened considerably. “Danke! Her name is Stefanie. She's seven. You don't know how much this means to me and her.”
>>20503623“Think nothing of it,” replied Lemare as she signed a piece of paper provided by a nurse. “It's the least I could do. There!” she said as she pasted it over. “I hope my German isn't TOO terrible. I wanted to give her a little message that she could read.”“It's fine,” he said, looking over it. “Thank you so much, this will mean the world to her.”With a sad glance over her shoulder, Lemare left the room. As she checked the list, she found that she had finished all the ones she was supposed to give out, but still had several extras left over. “Probably for whenever a witch wants to give herself more jewelry,” she muttered to herself darkly.As she closed the box with a *click*, the nurse came up behind her. “Thanks again, love. You don't know how much you brightened these boys' day by showing up. They rarely get any visitors at all, let alone a bona-fide hero witch coming to visit them. You've done them a great service.”Lemare blushed slightly. “I don't know if that's really necessary. All I did was show up...”The nurse smiled as she patted Lemare on her shoulder before going back to her duties. “That's enough, love. That's enough.” Lemare stood in the hospital hallway for a few seconds more, before turning and leaving.**As she walked out side, a Russian-sounding voice called out to her in French. “You know, not many witches would do that.”Lemare turned, slightly startled. She saw a young woman with long fair blond hair sitting on the hood of a jeep. “Excuse me?”
>>20503631“Visit a regular hospital. Visit with the men. Most witches don't feel the need, or don't want to lower themselves to interact with the regular troops. Those who do stand out. It's a good quality to have.”“Excuse me, who are you?”“Oh, where are my manners?” she laughed. “I'm Captain Aleksandra Pokryshkin of Soviet Frontal Aviation, executive officer of the 502nd Joint Strike Wing based in Leningrad. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant Lemare.”“But why are sitting out here, waiting for me?”“Well, I'm in Britain on business. I'm here to recruit new members for the 502nd, and you're on my list. Fairly high, actually. Did you know that you currently lead all spotter witches worldwide in kills?” That Lemare just blinked at that was enough confirmation that she didn't. “It was your turn today in the interview process, but imagine my surprise when I arrived at the Mission to find that you had gone off on your own to a hospital to give awards to the men! I had to see if it was true for myself.”She hopped off the jeep and walked over to Lemare. “It was. And that is all the interview I need. Any witch who doesn't hesitate to actually interact with her fellow soldiers; one who frankly isn't a stuck-up bitch, is one I want in my unit, her kill-tally be damned. So, Lieutenant Lemare, would you give me the great honor of jointing my unit?”Lemare paused while she thought, and then swallowed. “When do we leave?”
>>20503641**Mackintosh took a sip from his cup of coffee as he worked over another part of the voyage plan. He was focusing enough on it that he didn't even notice the crewman come up behind him.“Lieutenant?”Mackintosh jumped a good couple inches, his pencil leaving an unseemly mark on the chart. “Yes, crewman?” he asked as he hastily erased it.“There's someone here to see you, sir. They said it's important.”“Oh, and what could THAT be?”“Oh, I'm just here to pin a medal on your chest, nothing major,” said Lemare as she walked into the chart room.“Ah,” replied Mackintosh as he hastily erased an even larger mark. “Georgette! Didn't hear you come in,” he said as he finally turned around. The crewman had the smarts to excuse himself at this juncture. “So, what'd you want?”She cleared her throat before opening a nice looking wooden box. “For extreme bravery and disregard for your own safety in diving into the ocean to personally rescue a downed witch, the French Republic awards you the Croix de Guierre. Congratulations, Lieutenant Nicholas Mackintosh. You have our thanks,” she finished as she pinned the medal to his chest and saluted.After Mackintosh quizzically finished returning the salute, she quickly pecked him on the cheek. She shushed him before he could speak up. “And more importantly, you have my thanks, hero,” she said, before kissing him deeply enough to catch him off guard. A few seconds of shock later, he returned the kiss while putting his arms around her in a hug. A few seconds later, they parted, and she whispered “I love you.”
>>20503649As Lemare gazed into Mackintosh's one dumbstruck eye, she glanced over his shoulder, and started. “SACRE BLEU! IT'S THAT LATE ALREADY?!” She started quickly chittering in French before lapsing back into English. “Oh I'm so sorry! I have to go to Kings' Cross to meet Mama, Papa and little Georges! That drive through London took longer than I thought! Paper, I need paper!” She quickly scurried over to the scratch paper pile and produced a pen, while Mackintosh dumbly followed her with his head. “I'm joining a Joint Strike Wing in Leningrad soon, the 502nd! Here's our base name, that should get any letters to us!”“Uh-huh,” Mackintosh lamely offered.“Okay, I've got to go now!” she said as she pecked him on the cheek again, before turning to rush out the bridge. “I'll write you as I get to Leningrad! Take Care and Bon Voyage, ma Petit Cyclope!” And then she was gone, with Mackintosh lazily waving after her.“Well, that's not all that surprising,” said Major Santiago as he came up behind Mackintosh. “A Navyman getting struck dumb like he's never kissed a woman before? Par for the course, really.”“It's been a while since someone's told me that she loves me and actually meant it,” Mackintosh weakly replied, still staring at the door that Lemare had left through. He then rapidly shook his head. “HEY! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?”
>>20503662*The North Sea*A few men clang to what little floating wreckage there was. Many more floated face down, or went down with the ship. The voice of the Chief Mate pierced the cold air. “YOU WOULD DARE TO KILL YOUR OWN COUNTRYMEN?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!”A voice from the deck of the seemingly gigantic ship called back. “You are simply martyrs for the Greater Reich. You should be proud that we're giving your deaths some meaning!”“YOU'RE MAD!”“Hardly. Gunners!”The sounds of machine gun fire and screaming survivors filled the air.
>>20503669And that's it for tonight. Here's the pastebin:http://pastebin.com/xHCsz6cvQuestions, Comments, anything?Also: That picture of Mackintosh *does* have several things he hasn't earned yet in-story. He'll get them soon enough.
The night seemed to go on as a lone Martian patrolled the area around one of the tripod AA guns. <<Fuck, like those humans are going to actually attack this place…>> Infantryman Da’y’m muttered to himself angrily as he continued on his patrol. <<Recruitment didn’t say anything about guarding human structures, recruitment didn’t say anything about walking back and forth around an AA gun. Nooo…told me I can do my service, kick some alien ass. Should have listened, but noo…>> He had reached the end of his route by the time his little rant was finished. Da’y’m took a look at the trees spaced out around the airfield. He had to admit, they were interesting. There wasn’t anything like this on Mars. Mars…he thought about the red planet he left behind. His mother, father, and two siblings out near the Mare Erythraeum living their lives, those killydisc games, everything. He thought about them as he continued to look. The rows of trees would be the last thing he would see, as a sharp stabbing pain emerged from the back.
>>20503693“One less Martian to worry about.” Maldini said. Wiping off the green blood from his Fairbairn-Sykes, he turned his head around to check on Tarasov. The two of them had been chosen to sneak around the airbase and plant the bombs on the AA guns. It was decided to go for the farthest gun first, then make their way to the others waiting in the Jeeps. The Martians may have had an uncanny ability to see in the night, but they could not see out far. It was still a matter of moving where they weren’t looking. And any Martian that was a possible threat got a knife through their back. They had managed to set up bombs on every other AA gun. This was their last one. “Tarasov, got it set up?” “Hold on.” Tarasov checked the inspection hole on the pencil detonator. Right through the other side. With a nod, he fitted the detonator on the Lewes bomb they had placed. “Now we’re good.” “Alright then, let’s get back.” Maldini said before both of them made their way straight back to the group.
>>20503698“There they are.” Weber said. The others had been waiting for Maldini and Tarasov to come back.“Are they set?” Bonnard asked.“Yes, Adjutant-Major.” Tarasov replied.“Good. Jackson, we’re set.”“Alright then, get to your positions. After the bombs go off, we ride through the storm.” Everyone got back onto the Jeeps, ready to drive. The Martians had their aircraft parked out on the runway for some reason. Maybe they didn’t know how hangars work. Maybe they didn’t need hangars. Either way, they certainly wouldn’t expect some humans to come in literally blasting the front door and wreck them in this place. And that was what they were going to do.
>>20503704Waiting was the hard part. Those pencil detonators had a minimum time of 10 minutes, and even then, they could go off in 7 minutes or 13 minutes. At least the Martians didn’t find them yet, or there would have been search parties going out of the base and alarms going on. Ward looked down on Tarasov from his position as the machine gunner. Tarasov was staring at his watch.“...Trying to figure out when they’ll go off?” Ward asked. “Yeah.” Tarasov replied, not taking his eyes off the watch. “Heh. Normally, I’d call you a bloody idiot for trying to figure out exactly when those things would blow up. But you’re accurate with these things.” Tarasov didn’t reply at all, focusing on the watch instead. Still, it was strange. Everyone in this team had seen Tarasov note down times, down to the second, when a demolition charge he set would blow up, and it would blow up very close or exactly at the same time. How the hell did he manage to do that, they didn’t know. “…It’s time.” Tarasov said, starting the Jeep. The other Jeep followed suit. They didn’t have to wait long, as an explosion was heard. “Drive.”
>>20503714The first explosion surprised the Martians. Why would one of their AA guns go up in smoke? Then a second explosion, followed by a third. Soon, all their AA guns were down.That was when the humans came into view.The dual-mounted Vickers K from both of the Jeeps opened up on any disoriented Martian on the runway, cutting them down as the Jeeps zipped by. The remaining Martians on the runway got wise, with some taking cover, while others took any weapon they had and started to return fire. “Oh fuck, incoming!” Ward yelled as a group of Martians equipped with heat-rays, repeaters, and mini-rockets started to take positions in front of them. “Light them up!” Jackson said, firing the Vickers K at the group. Ward followed with the Vickers .50 caliber machine gun spitting out lead. Soon, the other Jeep was firing at the Martians. The majority of them were taken down, clearing the way for the two Jeeps. The rest kept on firing at the Jeeps. “Not today.” Weber said to himself, turning the Vickers at them and firing at them. The bullets found their mark, striking the rest down.
>>20503724Weber smiled before Maldini yelled out that the planes were coming up. The Jeeps went down the middle of the parked aircraft. Ward aimed to the left side, and Weber aimed at the right. Ward and Weber let loose on the craft, striking them everywhere. Bonnard and Jackson threw whatever No. 69 grenades were on hand, throwing them onto the Martian craft. Within a matter of seconds, they had cleared the aircraft, making sure that there were bullet holes into most of them. And then, a loud explosion shattered the air, grabbing the commando’s attention. One of the Martian craft had exploded, taking some other craft. All of them smiled, before throwing their No. 77 smoke grenades behind them. The smoke gave them some more time to escape to the extraction point, where Motor Torpedo Boat 344 would be waiting to pick them up. Soon, both Jeeps sped out of sight and into the night, towards the coast.
>>20503724Done for tonight.Pastebin here:http://pastebin.com/VRtdZRDgHave fun reading it.
>>20503669There is something wrong in the Strait of Denmark.
>>20504127>BEER RUN>return to thread>see thisAnon, I like you.
>>20504177>beer run>monday night/tuesday morningyes i jelly. fuck you real world
>>20503537...That just tells me that my threads have no readers ;_;
>>20504221Fuck your self pity. You have a decent quest. Characterization is exceptional, though inconsistant. I think some of the ideas you have brought were unique. Though, the first thread almost made me swear off your threads. I plan on being there for your next thread, so make it happen.
>>20504422To be honest, I don't have much self-pity. The quest has problems, and I just want to work on them. My biggest issue is getting viable feedback. I've gotten a few here and there, but I'm really interested in what is right and what is wrong with the last two SuWQ threads.And yeah, I had a rocky start.My biggest concerns are:- Event Permanence: Does it feel like choices and events in the past matter? Or does it seem like they're nothing but bland sideshows to a story that barely even exists?- Characterization: Am I making characters interesting and engaging? Or are they suffering from Witch 1, 2, and 3 syndrome?- Engaging the Audience: Am I updating quickly enough to retain interest? Am I presenting choices that make people want to vote? Do my moments of combat make people really think about their decisions, or are they lazily picking choice 1, 2, or 3 just to move on?For all my moaning, groaning, and whining, I'm actually less concerned with popularity and more concerned with quality. If I wanted popularity, I wouldn't be running a quest of a quest of a bad anime.
>>20504576I care about reader count only because more readers means more chances for quality feedback. If I had two or three people that I could count on for giving me their thoughts, I'd be more than content.
