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𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭... 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨.
— ᵂⁱⁿˢᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʰᵘʳᶜʰⁱˡˡ
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THREE HOURS DEEP INTO THEIR MISSION, THE BLOODY HUNDREDTH PIERCED THE SKIES OF BELGIUM... They were filled to the brim with the tenacity of warriors, ready to unleash their unyielding might upon the battlefield. Enduring the relentless flak, the bomb group pressed on, still a whopping four hours from their target, with their reinforcements ominously absent. "Command Pilot to Crew: Anyone see the other task forces?" Questioned Jack, checking his watch impatiently. "Radio, negative." Answered Hambone. "Waist, negative." Said Demarco. "Tail, negative." Sighed Crosby. "Negative, sir..."
"Negative."
"This is not what they fucking said." The girl snapped, frustration palpable as she struggled to maintain her composure. "We were supposed to take the brunt of it, Duck." The air exec reminded, sharing her disappointment. "Yeah, I know that, but the other task forces were supposed to be sweeping up after us to make sure them Krauts don't come for seconds — so where the hell are they, huh?!" She questioned rhetorically, feeling her blood boil when the realization sunk in that the 100th were facing hell alone. "Their promises mean absolutely nothing." She muttered, tilting her fort to avoid having her left wing blown off.
"Via, any sign of company?" Jack inquired, his gaze directed towards the top turret where the man maintained perfect visibility. "None, Major. Still flying solo." Came the brunette's response. "Looks like you're right... We did get stood up by the other divisions." Sighed the blonde, the blonde sighed, exchanging a glance with the infuriated pilot. "As predicted. Looks like it's just us against the odds, boys... Keep your heads up high, and eyes pealed to the sky." y/n rolled her eyes, navigating through the feeble flak with ease. "They sure ain't trying too hard with this flak." Joked Hambone. "Or they're just keeping it clear for the fighters." Mused the girl.
