Three Strikes [✓]

Lesson Learned

Chapter Twelve: Lesson Learned

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Yinshi Valley, Usea.
July 12th, 2019.
1600hrs.

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"They've got two rearguard. The better one's mine." Mihaly addressed Wit and Seymour, Sol 2 and Sol 3 respectively, making it clear that the F-2 sporting three white lines across its tail was his and his alone to fight. The F-15 and the Hornet he'd briefly tangled with suffered the same fate as the Fulcrum from just a few minutes prior and he was hoping that the rest of the Osean aircraft might put up more of a fight than their allies had.

"Copy that, King," Wit replied. Mihaly instantly felt himself growing irritated by not only the cheery undertone that his wingman's voice had, but the fact that he felt the need to call him by that ridiculous name. Where had that 'King' moniker even come from? Wit and the others barely knew the tale of the fall of their homeland, and Mihaly never cared to relive the story and remind the new generation of a time they'd never get to see. What was the point in longing for something so superficial as a country. There was no point living in the past.

Not pleased by the response, he made sure that his words left no room for any loopholes. "Don't call me that." Each word was low and to the point. Neither Wit nor Seymour found the words to reply, although he could imagine the sheepish look on Wit's face. Wit and Roald were the ones that were always so insistent on doing and saying everything right. They reminded Mihaly of another student of his, long ago. One that he often had to knock down a peg. In the end he became an accomplished pilot and leader. Wit showed the same promise, in spite of his faults.

The storm raging on outside didn't seem to affect the performance of the Osean aircraft and their pilots. Many of them left the operation area following the destruction of their comrade, but the remaining F-15s and two planes bearing the white lines remained in the AO. The pilot of the F-2 seemed unaffected by the weather, heading for Mihaly with little hesitation. Mihaly couldn't help but smile as the plane approached. The unfamiliar warning in his ear indicated that the enemy had a lock. Mihaly evaded and decided to have some fun with his challenger.

The F-2 pulled a sharp turn and followed Mihaly down into the rocks. Mihaly was aware that this pilot was firing every time he got a lock on him, and each time Mihaly simply adjusted his path and the missile slammed into a rock. He's better than I expected, Mihaly thought, gritting his teeth and grunting from the force of a high G turn as he flew out from the confinement of the valley in an attempt to get behind the F-2. He got the attention of the enemy pilot and allowed him to take the chase into the clouds. He's good...like the pilot with two lines on his tail from before. Today is your test. We'll see if you're good enough to survive.

"Sol 1, what's your status?" Wit suddenly asked, his voice laced with concern. They must have lost visual when they started fighting with the other pilots.

"My status?" Mihaly couldn't hold back a dark chuckle as he glanced behind him to check the position of the F-2. A bolt of lightning hit it, but it was fast to recover and refused to give in. "Well, I'm feeling a little excited..." With that, he led the Osean pilot back through the rocks. It wasn't his usual method of toying with the enemy before he took them out, but it was enough to give him the information he wanted. It seemed he'd finally found his rival, someone who could hold their own against him. He heard a missile warning. One shot past him and he felt his aircraft suddenly shake as the enemy pilot fired again. "Impressive...but, let's see what else you can handle..."