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Messages - Robyn Hatfield

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Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: June 26, 2017, 07:10:39 AM »
<15,000 ft, approaching WP Bravo>

"Something doesn't add up." Bobbie didn't often speak to herself when flying, she was all about communication at times driving her wing mates bonkers with her non stop stream of updates. Everything from the weather five hundred miles ahead, to the latest sports results if she happened to have the secondary channel on her radio open (VLRFM). She now had the enemy tracking firmly on her attack radar, it still gave her the creeps. But since Thunderhead had confirmed a definite enemy force, she didn't hesitate loosing her own missile with a flick of the joy stick button.

 "Fox three, Raven one." Then instantly regretted it. "Why aren't they taking evasive action?" She did say that aloud this time, for by the time the first missile had been fired the enemy aircraft's missile warning system would have alerted them. They were still holding straight and level at around 350kts when Thunderhead made the call.

 "Thunderhead to all flights, confirm splash six." There was a very long pause as if whoever was up there in charge was thinking about something, or getting a new update. The next voice was more urgent. "All flights, relayed from Stanley Tower, visual on last splash from HMS Fife. Drones, they were targets confirmed 14 aircraft in bound south west latitude-53.44226353, longitude -61.51794434"

 "Thunderhead, Sea force two. Tracking four-teen, I repeat four-teen fast jets veering north east direct for Stanley over. On the deck at angels two."

"Sea Force Two, Thunderhead. Copy."

"Carnage, Raven, Pyhton flights, new targets four two five miles south by west of your position. Angels two."

 "Raven one acknowledged Thunderhead.  Carnage, Python, veer course two three eight degrees. Python keep your mark one eyeballs peeled they will be waxing their boards as we close." That was more like it, this was more real. Bloody drones, what a waste of a missile.

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: June 16, 2017, 06:02:56 AM »
<15,000ft, Falklands Airspace>

 One after the other they took off smoothly, Bobbie for one was glad to be above the gloomy weather they were having on the base, at least as she neared the vector zone she could in fact see sunshine far off to the west, if even winter sunshine that had that typical gold hue to it. It was one of the things she loved about being a jet jockey, getting up and above the weather to see creation in all its beauty. "Thunderhead, Raven leader. Weapons armed, please confirm again, bogies at angels 5?" That didn't make sense to her. Yes she knew the Argies still had their old A4's, but even those she was aware from hundreds of hours studying old Falklands film and their tactics, they'd always make ten across the ditch then drop to five before making a bomb run. Something was screwy and she felt slightly nauseous about it. Could it be a set up. "All flights, Raven leader, check your 360's, this could be a ruse. Thunderhead, request Python flight to angels 20 over."

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: June 13, 2017, 09:53:21 PM »
<RAF Mt. Pleasant, runway one zero>

 "Tower this is Raven, confirm Python as top cover copy." Bobbie had the same set of printed orders as everyone else. Among the Aussie squadron she was one two flying the single seat FA/18c, the remaining four being either the F or G (Growler) versions. Her primary job was Squadron leader, something she had taken to like the proverbial duck to water, most of that within the last two weeks with the units fly over from Australia. They had gelled as a cohesive unit with Jack's experience added to the mix and damned good guidance from the powers that be. To say she was in her element was an understatement.

 "Confirm Raven. Python one and three, roll out. Climb to Angels 20, rendezvous with Thunderhead. Carnage angels 15, keep Python visual. Raven 2,000 meters south west, Carnage visual. Thunderhead will coordinate once you're on station. Good hunting and good luck."

 Bobbie grunted a pleased affirmative, taking the lead. "You heard the man, let em roll."

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: June 09, 2017, 05:52:36 AM »
<Hardened Hangars>

 "What?" Bobbie looked at Jack as if he had two heads. Or she had two heads, until she realized the little fan club gathered around her must have attracted some attention. Well of course they would be, she had been thrust into the deep end on her first 'official' tour as Squadron leader, that is to say a Squadron leader of a combat unit and not a training unit. It could be said she was nervous, especially having a majority of men waiting for her to give an encouraging speech or at least a quasi briefing before they mounted their birds; well they were going to wait a long time as Bobbie was short on words, large on action.

 Then as she looked at the American it did occur to her that his face show more annoyance than anything and here she was thinking that after all the months of training out of Tindal he'd be happy just to be up having something tangible at least to get a bead on. "So you're pissed off Jack, may I inquire as to the reason for your present state." One of Bobbie's quirks, she often to lighten people's moods speak as if she was a toffee nosed snot, the complete opposite to who she was.

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: June 02, 2017, 12:44:17 AM »
<Officer's Canteen, RAF Mt Pleasant>

 As the banter and conversation continued Bobbie listened to each of them, a good practice that helped learn about your mates and comrades. She was always a good listener. At the appropriate juncture she made the right animations of her face as well, letting them know she wasn't merely sitting there as a piece of furniture, but as Jack knew, she spoke when she had something specific to say, Bobbie wasn't the most sociable woman around; yet if a subject took to her mind you'd be hard pressed to shut her up.

 When the talk drifted between Cate and their life experiences, with Bobbie's mouth open to say something, a distinctive sound caught her ear. "Excuse me." She said softly leaving the table to walk over to the large full window. "You all should see this. Something is going down." Her eyes were drawn to the huge Marine CH53 with four attending Harriers lifting off in a cloud of spray.

 added to the above. Flight Lt Robyn Hatfield.  :busy

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: May 24, 2017, 02:27:28 AM »
<Officer's Canteen, RAF Mt. Pleasant>

"Seriously Jack you'd have to ask her. As far as I am aware our current ADF regulations don't have any wiggle room at all for her to be doing both jobs simultaneously. She 'may' and I stress on the word 'may', at some point have been seconded to either or both ASIS and the CIA since I do know she has dual citizenship through her mother; but I doubt Canberra would allow her back to RAAF knowing she might still be an active Operative." Bobbie couldn't stop her hunger, not even for a chat. She laid some chips onto a piece of bread, folded it over than took a large bite. A minute of chewing before she could talk again.

 "Yes, same as Captain." She confirmed Kyle's words to Trisha. "I've met ANG pilots before when I did my own exchange duty with the 43rd fighter Squadron at Tyndall, some your people we based there. Very professional I must say with most of them pulling double duty on civvy heavies. And yes Trish I can, you have the sweats every time you fly, even on training missions because you are more than aware one small slip up can end in your own untimely death." She did have a slight sense of the macabre at times.

 She wrinkled her nose at Jack dipping his fries, that was like blasphemy to her, but a good one at least. "Squadron Leader Michelle Sutcliffe, do you remember her Jack when you first came to Amberly? Half Chinese and full of herself, she was the Intel officer at the time. But I guarantee you if she paints a target for you, tells you how much opposition we can expect, you could bet your life on it being correct." Personally, like Cate she couldn't stand the woman, too officious for her liking. "Cate?" She said to the other two. "Yeah, she is like that as a person. I saw her head butt a guy once off base, he was maybe a hundred kilos or so, you know one of those muscle bound gym junkies. She must have found his weak spot, knocked him stone cold." That was at least a funny memory. 

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: May 19, 2017, 10:08:27 PM »
<Officer's Canteen, RAF Mt. Pleasant>

 She wasn't surprised by the visitors, Bobbie kind of expected it seeing as how they were staring at her and Jack so much from the moment they walked in. "Hi and thanks for joining us. Won't you sit down." She was as curious as Jack right now, for they knew why they were here but such a large gathering of such diverse Air elements was bewildering.

 "Yes I know Cate very well, she was my lead flight instructor at Pearce and she was also XO not too long ago of my Squadron. What is she like? Well, I know she is one hell of a hard arse, she doesn't compromise on her goals, and I believe, bear in mind this is just a rumor, that she was also at one time for a number of years an agent for ASIS, which is our CIA. I understand she worked for them on contract as well...all rumor of course." Which was total BS, Bobbie knew very well from her brother since he had at one time been Cate's mission handler, but it wasn't for Bobbie to say. "I do know this, she won't go down without a fight. Cate took us through 'captive' training at Pearce, there was no half measures with her. She said if she can go through it and live, which at the time we had no idea what she meant; we can to. Brutal doesn't cut it. Have you guys ever seen GI Jane? The part where Demi Moore went through that same training?" She grinned maliciously. "That was play school."

 Bobbie looked over at Jack, he knew what she was talking about as the same training had been instigated at Amberly. "Oh boy, if AJ was here right now." She giggled a little. "We'd be sittin in our birds waiting for clearance whether we had it or not."

 Then she remembered. "Oh and I'm Flight Lieutenant Robyn Hatfield, you can call me Bobbie if you like."

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: May 19, 2017, 02:35:50 AM »
 Bobbie thought for a moment, she knew she could tap into the latest intel with a quick work around her brother gave her. "Don't blame her at all, I'd be pissed to if I knew my man was thousands of miles away hangin with another hot chick." She bunched her eyes up at him, not for any other reason than the banter they had been doing ever since military types created an air force. Then the question he asked, she didn't think it applied to Cate, but who knew? Maybe Colonel Carter or those two who were now heading towards them. "We might find out now."

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: May 11, 2017, 01:23:06 AM »
<Officer's Canteen, RAF Mt. Pleasant>

 Somewhere between telling old history and filling her mouth things rapidly turned sour. Robyn's mobile phone started buzzing madly in her cargo pocket at the very same time as the monstrous TV was turned up playing live or at least a delayed view of what had been posted on social media across the world. The chewing stopped, she almost gagged on what she was eating, swallowing it down in one very hard mouthful that threatened to come straight out again. You didn't have to like someone personally not to feel their pain. Bobbie never saw eye to eye with her former instructor but she harbored no ill will towards her either; in a strange way she admired Catherine for her toughness, something Bobbie could never aspire to. She remembered seeing her stand over a six foot something 200 lb Marine officer at a joint exercise in Darwin once, Cate actually intimidated the man. "Last I heard she was exchanged as a training instructor, or at least that is what they sent to Amberly. How the hell did she end up here.......god look at her face Jack?" Just in saying that almost brought her to tears.

 Then she remembered her phone. Bobbie looked at the caller ID, it was from her brother Hans, a simple text message. "Give em hell Sis, bring her back." So Jack's statement was rather poignant at this point, emotions be damned, not if she had anything to do with it. She held up the Samsung for him to see the message. Though Hans wasn't Air Force, as a federal cop who had moved to both NSW and Queensland just to either annoy his baby sister, or pretend to watch over her, he'd visited the officers mess at each base she was posted to, Amberly the last as he had managed to get stationed at himself. "Doesn't matter what they think Jack. We're going to do whatever is asked of us, besides I have this unnerving feeling this is going to escalate very quickly. Did you notice that guys accent? English educated but no way is he Hispanic. Where I grew up, forty percent of the neighborhood were from the Middle East, you cannot mistake the way they speak no matter where they learned their English. Something stinks in Argentina."

 "That AJ?" She asked seeing her wingman's own phone in his hand. She sent back to Hans asking him to see if he can get his higher ups to analyse that video, which of course she was sure that ASIS would be doing right now.

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: May 08, 2017, 12:34:30 AM »
<Officer's Canteen, RAF Mt Pleasant>

Spoiler: show
"We're a competitive bunch, but that's just how it is. Cow goes moo, sheep goes bah, the US Military has a major inter-service rivalry." He shrugged, "Now carrier landings, yeah, that's always dicey. But we've been doing it for almost a hundred years now, so it's no big deal. Just pretend that instead of a runway sitting there with lots of space, you have none of the space, it's moving, and instead of coasting to a stop, you're snapped to a stop. Easy." That was followed up by a chuckle.

"Yeah, it was a legit crapper, they were going to toss it overboard and the plane captain kept it, had the AO guys fit fins and a fuze to it, as well as rigging it up to the pylon. Look up the A-1 Skyraider on Wikipedia, it's right there. Now for a port-a-crapper, you might need to load that into a bomber." Jack said and then took another bite. After he finished, he continued.

"Man, if I had one of those Su-34s, that Flanker that's like a love child between a Flanker and an Intruder or Aardvark, I'd be the guy that got an air-to-air kill after I purged that thing's septic tank on a bogey. I mean, they built a kitchen and toilet into it, you gotta figure there's a button somewhere to dump the poop tank. Now that's worthy of a recruitment poster." He concluded.

He took the offered plate, alternating between that and his own.

"It's not bad stuff. I don't know why people knock English food so much. The only thing that's overrated to me is sushi, and that was before I got to Japan. Everyone's all about that and I just can't stand it. I'm not a big fish guy to begin with, but people need to lay off the sushi." Jack commented between bites.

"AJ almost joined you both, had she not been blowing chunks after trying to take on Miles in shots. I told her it was a bad idea, but one thing about Marines is you can't talk 'em out of bad ideas." Jack replied when Bobbie brought up that night's activities. Though his wife had no problem getting hammered, she just could not do straight hard liquor. In fact, like him, she preferred drinks that went down good, not just some hard shot like it was JP aviation fuel.

"Someone across the crick is getting a little too big for their britches if we're throwing this much weight behind it. That or someone's decided excess is best. Either way, we're still here. I just wonder to what end, because this sky, aside from being awfully crap right now, is lookin' to get awfully full right quick." Jack replied.

 Bobbie scrunched her eyes up at the thought of all those decades of such heavy going up against one another like as if it were one hundred years of football rivalry. She’d go utterly bonkers if she had to put up with that back home among her peers in the other services. “As you saw Jack back home, we’re more like one great big service with very little going on between us since we have to work as cohesive units more often than not. Army and Navy, Air Force and the other two come together so often the lines of who is who are often blurred especially during exercises. I’ve done the Kakadu exercises three times now and we’ve had both Army and Navy commanders of our Squadron even though those people were helicopter types. “ Kind of weird in a way but it helped everyone become familiar with each others procedures. “By the time you get to Squadron Leader, you’ll have spent at least 18 months on exchange with the US Navy doing exactly that. Not especially looking forward to it, even less so if you…” She prodded his shoulder. “…were my training officer on some tub.” Bobbie refrained from giving him the middle finger.

As the conversation and of course the food continued Jack’s story reminded her of something she learned at the academy that he’d find interesting. “We had a history lecture once concerning World War two and the campaign in New Guinea. Our RAAF boys were seriously lacking aircraft at the time with only a few Kittyhawks, some of our own Boomerang Fighters and the Wirraway which was essentially our own version of the original Texan trainer. That last one they used sometimes for light bombing duties, strapping a couple of 500 pound bombs underneath with the only defensive weapon being two piddly three o three guns in the front and a single for the observer in back. “ She recalled on the lecture trying to filter out the humor of it. “There was an instance were several hundred Japs were closing in on Lae, our guys had no bombs to speak of on the day, but the Army only needed a slight distraction. So you know what the RAAF boys did?” This was the typical Aussie answer. “Four Wirraways went up with each Observer in back having a crate of empty beer bottles, they dropped them on the Japs with the bottles making a whistling sound as if real bombs were being dropped. Sent the running long enough for the army to get their artillery on line.” Bobbie was rather proud of that story because it was something she herself would come up with. “I think with some ingenuity we can do anything can’t we?”

“Ugh!” She spat. “Sushi. If it was the last thing left on the planet to eat I’d never touch the stuff. The very thought of raw fish, or any meat raw turns my stomach. Honestly I don’t know why people rave on about it.” The look on her face was enough to spell out toxic, enough said.

With that concerning AJ she grinned. Jack had no idea at all what went on in the women’s section of the officers barracks, no idea at all. She wasn’t about to let him know either except to just sit there with a foolish grin on her face. She could tell him about  the card games, but perhaps that would be better coming from AJ herself. “The rumor mill we heard on that stopover in Edwards wasn’t the most encouraging was it. Something like eight Squadrons on the ground her before the end of the month. Add the Navy and Army equation into that and its big. Something is definitely brewing Jack.”

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: May 05, 2017, 01:21:30 AM »
<Officer's Canteen, RAF Mt Pleasant>

Spoiler: show
Jack shook his head to the steward before glancing over where Bobbie had seen the "zoomies". He shook his head.

"I don't see Wings of Gold, they're not mine. And I heard the story too, lame. Come back to me when someone else drops a toilet. Everything else is just pretending to be as awesome as that." Jack said. Though many considered it a meme or fake, a Navy A-1 Skyraider had indeed dropped a toilet during Vietnam.

As he started to eat, he glanced up at Bobbie after she made her request for his next call home.

"Oh yeah, ookaay." He said, dragging out the okay, "You and I both know AJ has the most finely tuned bullshit radar ever, and that you don't keep me out of trouble, you aid and abet it. Or have we forgotten that place in Perth that we about got the entire RAAF banned from?" Jack concluded with a grin of his own. No one could claim innocence that night, and there had been a lot of ass chewings that Monday.

"I wonder how crowded this little island is about to be..." Jack mused aloud.

 One couldn’t help but wonder at the rivalry between the services and though to a degree in Australia it was there, Bobbie had noted more often within the US it was a fierce rivalry where back home the three services were more used to working closer together. One of the benefits she supposed of having a very small by world standards armed forces. “I spent some time when I was in the states on Red Flag at Edwards Air Base, as well as a little time on one of your carriers out in the Gulf. I couldn’t make a call Jack as to who were the better pilots, but I have to hand it to you Navy guys, there is no chance in a million hells you’d  have me landing on that tiny little deck at 200 knots in the middle of the night. “ She sucked her breath in through her teeth. “Incredibly brave or incredibly stupid or maybe a touch of both.” With that she eased out small chuckle after his story sunk in. “I’m trying to picture that ya know, dropping a loo from a great height. It’d be even more glorious if it’d been one of those outdoor cans the army types use.” Now that would have been something to see. It gave her some wicked ideas.

 Making their way to an empty table (most were) they sat down to indulge themselves, Bobby taking a side plate to pile a few of her chips on it to push over to Jack. “You know I was never going to eat them all, just keeping up appearances.” At first she thought of being all lady like using the knife and fork which would have only been proper, but Bobbie was so hungry she mentally said ‘stuff that’, to proceed to eat with her hands by breaking of small portions of the superbly beer battered fish, followed by a chip in between. To her it was natural, every Sunday growing up after Church the family would head to Normanville beach on the coast, summer or winter it didn’t matter for it wasn’t just for the water, it was for Emmanuel’s Fish and Chip shop perched up above the houses on the headland. “Mmmm” She said between bites. “This is almost as good as back home.”
 The last mouthful was almost spat out in a complete guffaw when he mentioned the incident. Her face flushed scarlet at the memory. “Not entirely all of the Air Force, just our two Squadrons. Still it was worth it in the end knowing that by the time that Pub ever saw us again it’d be forgotten…even to see Wing Commander Evans pole dance down to her knickers and bra was worth it, ya gotta admit that.” She left out the part where Bobbie herself joined the Amazon like redhead at the end.

 Taking a small moment to look outside past the new people she saw it was raining steadily. “I’d say with seeing the George Bush on its way and her fleet, very crowded. I heard over the radio to as we passed the fleet, HMAS Canberra and her mixed fleet of Aussie, Kiwi and Canadian ships are on their way as well. The Iwo Jima was seven hours behind the Bush, so do the numbers and that doesn’t count the Brits and other nations throwing their hand in. It’s like June 6th 1944 all over again isn’t it?” She shuddered at the thought; that meant a lot of death.

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: May 04, 2017, 04:16:04 AM »

<Officer's Canteen, RAF Mt. Pleasant-> 0720

"Wow. I bet you guys have some buddy stories don't you?" Her old man did, three wars a marine and the stories were endless from Vietnam to GW1. He was a part of the reason she was doing what she did, although he wasn't a pilot, he was close as one being a gunner on choppers first with the old Huey, finishing up before he retired on the Super Cobra. "Hey look, we're not alone either." Trish looked past both her teammates to see a tiny women (well smaller than her anyway) and a rather tall hunk with her. She squinted her eyes to see the Aussie shoulder patch on the woman. "Must be from that RAAF Hornet Squadron we saw on the hard stand, god what I'd give to fly one of those." She did however feel a little down when she listened to Rob's explanation, that must have been hard to deal with. Trish rested her hand on his shoulder, encouraging him in. "He will, I've seen him do it first hand." She laughed, as the former nugget knew from Kyle's training of her.

"Aww come on guys I mean really? Buddy stories Ramirez? That is so old school. Besides what's in this head is stayin there." His finger poked at the aforementioned cranium. "I know about your old man though Trish, now you see Bob...." He looked at the other pilots across at the servery. "...Trish here could entertain us all night telling us about 'Boss' Ramirez, a gun slinger at the Nui Dat corral...Hornets...meh."

"Fuck you man." Trish jabbed him in the side. Yeah her old man wasn't famous like Kyle was, but he did have the Navy Cross which put him pretty much up there. "Food, glorious food."

"Up yours to, chicka boom." Kyle added as he headed into the lovely aroma.

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: May 04, 2017, 03:36:40 AM »
<Officer's Canteen, RAF Mt. Pleasant-> 0720

 The young man conceded he was up against a battle in a tiny package, for all he knew she could be one of those covert type of women who secretly had trained in every martial arts under the sun whereby she could break every bone in his body with a mere thought. Her 'handler' didn't look much less capable either. "Yes ma'am...sir." He filled a clean dessert bowl to almost overflowing with the cinnamon topped pudding, a query on his face to Jack if he'd like some as well.

"Thank you." Bobbie gave him that much, he was after all a steward, his life condemned to  servitude of the officer ranks. That line always made her laugh, coming from her old instructor back at RAAF Pearce, the very woman the others were looking for. She had to hand it to MacGregor, as much as Bobbie couldn't stand the woman, she had a way with words.

 Her head then swiveled back to Jack as she saw several Americans enter. "Your people." She said nodding her head in their direction. "Well, Air Force ones anyway.." She looked hard at the dark guy, recognizing his face. "Isn't that Captain Lacosse, the guy your Air Force used on recruiting posters a few years ago?" Apparently Kyle was responsible for taking out a very senior Taliban chief with nothing more than a single 50kg practice bomb. Kind of funny when you thought about it really. "Been down that road. Remember back at Amberly those 'Kellogs Muesli bars I'm so fond of? Much the same thing. When I was second seat in the 'Pig' they were the only thing that got me through long the crew chiefs didn't appreciate it at all."

"Next time you call her Jack, tell her 'I' am keeping you out of trouble." She couldn't resist poking her tongue out at him.

Historical Missions / Re: Port Stanley-Falkland Islands
« on: May 03, 2017, 01:50:21 AM »
Spoiler: show
Robert blew out a breath.  He knew he couldn't do anything until he received the call or was given the go ahead but that didn't mean it was easy.  He wanted to punch the wall or something.  Maybe he should find a gym or at the very least a punching bag to release some of his frustration.  What he really needed was a ride on his gelding Domino but that wasn't possible right now.  He nodded to Sam. "Got it.  Phone's on my belt.  I'm not about to miss that call."  He wanted to get out there and get searching.  He wanted Cate back.

Robert hesitated briefly at Kyle's offer before finally nodding. "Yeah, sure.  Thinking isolation right now isn't a good idea."  He would go crazy if he was by himself right now.  Robert pushed to his feet, nodding at Sam before turning to follow the rest of his team, minus one spunky leader.

*0700 hours 25th April*


>> To Officer's Canteen, RAF Mt. Pleasant>>

 The three of them walked across the now rain swept parade ground that separated the main Administration building from the Accommodation barracks and the various mess halls, or canteens as the Brits liked to call them. It was a light rain at least with the late April temperature this far south hovering at around a barmy 57 degrees, lovely Kyle thought to himself, his wife Rosanna (an immigrant from Finland) would utterly adore it and how he wished she was here with him. He prayed she and their two little boys were safe and sound. "You know man..." He said as his hand pushed open the canteen door, which gave out a nice blast of warm air in his face. "...isolation can kill you or drive you crazy. Remember I was with you in the 'Stan when you almost burned out. Bob you went to ground then and it weren't pretty, I'm not gonna let you do that again, even if I have to chain you to a chair and talk to you all day and night. Got it? Ain't gonna happen." Then he headed in.

 Trish didn't know the history of the boys, she was still the newb. Her normal day job was flying work crews back and forth to the oil rigs in the gulf, over 80% of her flying hours were in choppers which included a brief stint in Florida with Shandscair. She started her ANG life in that state, then transferring to Alabama when her parents moved (yes she was still living with them at 28), she was in her second year of flying the F16. "You guys were in the 'Stan together?" She asked seemingly wanting to get the answer from Rob. Though she liked Kyle, he came off too much as the big brother where she was concerned, the five year age gap didn't help and neither did the fact he was full time Air Force.

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