| Subject: *blinks confusedly* No offense taken... Okay! Inside for the next part! |
Author:
Dakkan
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Date Posted: 02:42:44 07/15/03 Tue
In reply to:
Dakkan Strongrudder
's message, "Dakkan writes again! (bwahahahaha!!)" on 01:36:46 07/08/03 Tue
Before I start, I want to clarify some more. Zorro is a fox and Dakkan's best friend. He replaces the killed pilot from the last chapter. Ebonar is a black wolf who is very jealous of Dakkan's skills with his plane. They are about to fly an actual mission from their new base just south of London...in no other machine but the famous Spitfire! We continue...
Suiting up, Dakkan had decided, was a ridiculously long process. Over flannel long johns went standard military shirt and pants, over which the otter donned a flak vest, sheepskin flight suit and a leather flight jacket lined with more sheepskin. He then pulled on combat boots and a pair of leather and sheepskin boots to go over the first pair. After that, he strapped a leather flight helmet with goggles to his head and put on several layers of thick gloves. Unused to having his movement so restricted, Dakkan was forced to have his ground crew help him put on his parachute.
“All this and they say I can still lose fingers to frostbite,” the otter muttered as he climbed awkwardly into the cockpit with sweat streaming down his cheeks.
Once in the plane, Dakkan buckled up and made all the connections necessary to make his radio work properly. He hooked his oxygen mask to his helmet but didn’t fasten both hooks. He mask hanging loosely, he waited for seven-fifteen to arrive.
Zorro desperately wanted to shake the sweat from his ears but couldn’t, as the helmet only had two very small holes for his ears and held them rigid. He contented himself by peeling back at least three sleeves to get to his watch. As he reached it, the hands rested on…
“Seven-fifteen!” announced the fox as he gave a claws-up to his ground crew.
Ground crews all over the airfield aided start-up then cleared the area, avoiding the masses of whirling propeller blades.
“Everyone checked out?” Limpear asked over the radio.
One by one the pilots answered in the affirmative.
Nigel sounded pleased. “Ahead of schedule then. All right, chaps? Form up and taxi out!”
The line of Spitfires took off one by one into the early morning sky.
Ebonar found his flight directly behind Dakkan’s once again. The black wolf’s claw passed over the gun trigger, but he knew better than to attck now. He’d wait until they were over Germany, and that way the otter had a good chance of getting captured. And leaving the kill opportunities to him.
They met the bombers about an hour after take-off. Limpear sent Nigel to sidle slowly up and waggle his wings to convey that they were friendly.
Here we go, thought Ebonar, wrapping his paw around the trigger again. Just make it look like one of the bombers’ gunners got a little trigger-happy.
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