1366/Log

Log
Date of Scene:	09 July 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Lady Blackhawk, Melinda May

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Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    They name flight schools after Zinda Blake, her image is still painted across combat aircraft today. Highest scoring female ace of all time, fourth highest scoring ace overall. She has pedigree then, but SHIELD has concerns all the same. She was renowned as a pilot before the war sure, as an air racer. Fighter pilots often do not make for good Quinjet pilots however, more than a few hotshots have proven unsuitable as SHIELD pilots over the years. Zinda then, SHIELD contractor or otherwise was an unproven quantity then. Nobody from SHIELD had even seen her fly, everything was second hand. Yet this is -The- Lady Blackhawk, and Fury seemed eager to at the very least keep her out of the hands of the CIA, DIA, you name it.

    This called clearly for a checkride by somone who wasn't likely to be swayed by the mystique, and well who else but May? Anyway Zinda shows up on time, which is more a result of her lift up here by SHIELD agents earlier in the day. Forms are filled out, biometrics recorded and her flight gear gets searched before she's released into the waiting room. Neat black flightsuit, survival vest cut from gold colored ballistic nylon. Neat nomex flight gloves to match her chest rig, and well empty holsters to be refilled at May's discretion until she departed for the day.

    She's snagged an opposing chair over there, and propped her boots up before demonstrating that other inherent fighter jock ability, sleeping anywhere at anytime. Head bowed, face hidden by those golden locks. Those bright yellow and black Blackhawks roundels on her shoulders are more than enough to keep folks from complaining, because well who really wants to go tell her not to put her boots up? That's Lady Blackhawk yo!

Melinda May has posed:
May is here precisely on time. Checkrides are to be taken very seriously, and she is most frequently tapped to do them for 'potentially unique' pilots. Such as this case. She arrives wearing her usual SHIELD mission attire that, let's be honest, doesn't look anywhere near suitable for pilot's garb. But are you gonna be the one to tell May that?

Entering the room where Zinda is napping nearly silently, she watches the woman for a moment to see if her presence has been noticed before saying in a completely normal tone of voice, "Blake."

This is test number one.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Yeah."Comes the instant response, and she rolls back to sweep that hair back over a shoulder. "Oh hey darlin."And a roll to her boots, carefully nudging the chair back where it belongs. Then she leans in a touch to offer her hand. "Howdy howdy, was just catchin' fourty winks before we head out."She jerks a thumb over her shoulder towards the flightline, before halfstepping out of the way to let May lead. "I got all my paperwork squared away, so hopefully we can finally get to it and get that tub up in the air?"

    She's got an easy smile and that casual sort've swagger all fighter pilot's have going on, like it's backed in at birth or something. Still from resting to upright, she looks bright eyed and curley haired. "Oh and goodness me, forgettin my manners. Zinda Blake, of the Blackhawks."As if she needs to introduce herself.

Melinda May has posed:
May shakes the blonde's hand readily enough when it's offered. "Agent May." Whether she actually needed the introduction or not she doesn't say. She does turn to lead the way out onto the flightline where there's a quinjet already prepped and waiting.

"I wouldn't be here if the paperwork was not in order," she comments seemingly idly. Her own stride is smooth and economical, that of a martial artist instead of a pilot. "What's your experience with VTOL?" It's almost sad how many supposedly crack pilots have washed out or been sent back for training when they couldn't make heads or tails of a quinjet's VTOL systems.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Harrier one and two, The limey birds included, BA-609s, Helicopters. No F-35s, but well you couldn't get me into one of those things if you tried."She follows along, shoulders rolling as she lists it off. "I've done the simulators, and all the rest. I get the caution, but I reckon ya'll ain't gonna have too much to do Agent May. Oh and hey, any chance you can score me my heaters? I get not wanting every Tom, Dick and Harry rolling around with firearms. Just the same though, I'm gonna be deploying to combat boxes with ya'll. Seems kinda needless here."

    Casually lifting a gloved hand to produce those aviator shades and with a flick, slip them over her eyes. Theres a ballcap too which she apparently stashed under that vest, but well that doesn't go on until they're outside. Not quite Military, but she's certainly paramilitary.

Melinda May has posed:
May nods at the listing of the different VTOL vehicles Blake has flown in the past. That's considerably better than most. Striding near-silently up the ramp of their assigned quinjet, she gestures for the blonde to proceed toward the front and the pilot's controls while she hits the controls to close the ramp.

"When we get back from this checkride, I'll make sure your sidearms are returned to you." If it's any consolation, May doesn't have any visible weaponry on her person either. Though the jacket she's wearing despite the July heat might be indicative of concealed weaponry. She then settles into the copilot's seat, a pair of aviator glasses of her own protecting her eyes.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Roger darlin."Zinda offers, before flumping down in the pilot's seat like it might as well be an old couch. She straps up her knee board with one hand, as she pulls her belts down with it's twin. Then she begins the checklist, reading them out clearly as she goes. "Gen A, start position. Gen B, start position."And so on, and it's all perfectly text book. She doesn't search for switches, she reaches and double checks but she's almost instinctively at home here. The checklist as a result, gets run through in a hurry.

    "Alright, you going to play co-pilot and run the radios or do you want me to do that too?"She pauses there, as she double checks her kneeboard, before flipping to the next page. Then well, it's go for engine start and she starts cranking systems on in perfect time. No joke there are qualified pilots who can't get the bird squared away quite that quickly. "Oh and, where you want me to take you. Just out over the Atlantic like angels twenty I'd guess?"

Melinda May has posed:
"I can run the radios," May replies as she puts on the appropriate headset. "Let's start with that, and I'll see about getting approval to do some skyline maneuvers." That's not something usually granted, as building flybys are typically frowned upon. But, it's something that comes up from time to time. Best to ensure that Zinda's ready to hit the ground running.

Toggling a few switches without even really looking at them, May takes over the radio control and informs Central that they're ready to start out. It's all very much by the book.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Theres no rushing, she waits for approval before picking up the thrust. She pours on the thrust and, it's a little hotter than the typical pickup. Zinda doesn't chase the throttle input, nor does she lose that light touch on the stick. She just rides it out, until it's safe to dial back the throttle a little. From there, well it's smooth sailing. "Right, we're a little light." Once the Quinjet gets up and going, well Zinda lives up to the hype. She's got a natural touch, a feel for the thing on an instinctual level.

    "Righto boss, just dial in my route and I'll play ball just fine."She clears controlled airspace and does infact give pause to check the radar, double checking traffic is clear. "Getting a little chop off the thermals coming off the pavement, for such little wing area it seems to ride pretty well dialed down. Better than I'd have expected anyway, uh let me just get us pitched for this fuel load here."

Melinda May has posed:
May gets the flight plan filled out and ready on the quinjet's HUD for Zinda to follow. Again, no real surprises there, but the top notch tech might make one feel a bit spoiled. "Take all the time you need, Blake." A proper pilot would do exactly that anyway, as just forcing a plane to do as bid is just bad piloting. May actually has a specific quinjet assigned to her use only, and it's very likely that the same will be done for Zinda. Of course, that doesn't mean they won't ever fly anything else, but when they can, they'll get their preferred bird.

And May might even consider letting Zinda give the Bus a try. Though that bird is a whole different ball game. Thus why she's considering seeing how this fighter pilot would react.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Understood boss."She takes her time indeed, getting the bird trimmed out the way she likes it. Then well it's off to follow the flightplan, and she settles back into her seat comfortably. She's indeed light on the stick, and the Quinjet eases along that route like it's on glass. Her course changes are buttery smooth, and traffic well managed. Eyes scanning the horizon, the very picture of a combat aviator it would seem.

    "You know, Fury tried to get me to keep a pair of these things on our base. Just wanted me to be kosher with a fleet of SHIELD techs hovering around, and you know. No jokes, I don't really have any issues with you folks. I just don't care for a whole bunch of strangers in the nest, specially with us running our own stuff too."Zinda offers with a half yawn, reaching up to adjust a knob for the seat warmers. "Hey seperate topic, experienced field agent to Mercenary. You ever heard anything about invisible spiders, or zombies with big nails driven through their skulls? Crew ran into some wierd stuff last week."

Melinda May has posed:
"No, can't say I blame you." May's used to having the flight crews and maintenance techs around to keep the fleet of quinjets and more all in tiptop shape, but she can understand how people not accustomed to that might find it disconcerting. She checks a few readouts and watches their bearings, not at all surprised that a simple run like this is so far would be like driving a car for Blake. Hopefully that'll change shortly.

Invisible spiders? Zombies? Sounds like prime WAND territory. "Can't say I have, but if anyone would have, it'd be the people in WAND. Sounds like something right up their alley." She checks the readouts again, perhaps a bit more frequently than would seem ... relaxed.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Yeah figured it was a long shot, but asking is free right?"Zinda is indeed, pretty chill. It's a milk run flight, and the Quinjet is hardly difficult to fly. Well it's not difficult by Zinda's standards anyway. It's calm enough for her attention to drift, and well May is the most interesting thing in the cockpit so yeah. She notices.

    "Hey boss whats the word? Look I understand what a checkride is all about, but if there's something we should go attend to? Well I bill by the flight hour, and we're both fully aware I can fly this bird more than fine."Zinda glances sidelong after May for a moment. "I'm getting paid either way, you wanna get your money's worth?"

Melinda May has posed:
"True." May knew that she'd pick up on it, but it was inevitable. As was this. "Incoming, on our five o'clock. Approaching fast." Maybe that's what she was watching for.

The approaching jet's signal pings as a friendly -- a SHIELD fighter jet -- but is flagged as in a combat training scenario. And then, almost the exact same moment, May's fiddling with the controls on her side flag the quinjet they're in as in the same combat training scenario.

"Want to take that hot shot out there down a few pegs?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Sure, just don't blame me."Zinda lifts her gloved hands to tighten down her straps, before casually retaking the controls. She takes a moment to take stock of their exact position, before she slams the throttle home and flips off the automated flight assist. Then with an audible whine of the VTOL fans, she rolls the bird to starboard and jerks hard. Using idling VTOL fans to disrupt the boundry layer over the wings, and well you're not supposed to be able to do that at this kind of airspeed. Then with a crank on the rudders and a snap of the stick, it gets real.

    The peak-G load flies right up to the hard limit for the airframe, but it doesn't break past it. Slewing the nose around as she tickles the VTOL thrust, the stick and the foreward engines in a single fluid motion. She makes that fat bird dance, and she does it without so much as breaking a sweat. It's not enough to get a legit missile launch, but it's enough to tumble the thing off the "enemy" boreline and send it hurtling for the relative safety of the ground clutter down below. "Whats that pilot's callsign honey, I wanna let him know who's about to kick his teeth in." Cool as a cucumber...

Melinda May has posed:
"Pickle," May replies. It might seem completely oncongruous, but anyone who's been around pilots knows that their callsigns tend to run the entire gamut from undstandable to absurd. She quickly toggles a few more controls.

"Targeting computers are now set for training, you can use the controls as normal and not risk actually shooting him out of the sky." Again, SHIELD toys are the best toys. When Zinda kicks the quinjet around May manages to not get tossed around in her seat -- proof that she's not just a passenger here.

The other jet breaks off, banking abruptly when the quinjet reacts to his approach and maneuvering around to angle for a target lock on the fat bird, as Blake called it.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    <<Pickle, this is Snakebite actual. Your intercept line is about as straight as the third coke hit, get with the program.>>Zinda knows the most verbal fighter-pilot judo, of course. Not that she stops doing everything else, which is kind of an amazing feat in and of itself.

    She snaprolls right, before pulling hard into a neat left hand corkscrew. It's a full ten G sustained pull, using those VTOL fans sporadically to trade for angles. The result is a text book set up to get the rolling scissors going, and well the Quinjet was never designed for legit dogfighting.

    Not that Zinda seems to mind of course, She seems entirely happy at the stupid end of the G-load spectrum even without a G-suit. <<Come on Pickle, watch those ailerons. You're like ten percent throttle slack, don't make this so easy for me.>>She can't attack from a full fluid rolling scissors, but neither can Pickle. Only, well detail worth noting here. Quinjets have -turrets- not just foreward firing missiles. "May, be a dear and slew that gun yonder? I want him on a guns kill, so he knows who's playground this is now."

Melinda May has posed:
Okay, now May is amused, though she's not really openly showing it. Not yet. Still tolerating the Gs like a trooper, she does indeed go for the gun turret, though she wonders if she should make Zinda work for this 'kill'. Nah. Maybe next time. "Trying for a weapons lock now."

Pickle clearly isn't too keen on getting that weapons lock, as he does try to up his game at the banter from Snakebite. He doesn't reply, though. Mostly because he IS in a full G-suit, and he is starting to make use of it. He's also trying to use his own jet's greater top speed to his advantage.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Zinda slams that right rudder, the Quinjet groans in protest and then she slams the VTOL. The Jet snaps out of position, before she kills the VTOL oncemore and lays off the rudder. There are violent maneuvers, and then there is whatever the -hell- that was. It's enough to elicit a grunt from Zinda, tightening down her stomach to forcefeed blood into her brain. See she was playing games before G-suits were a thing, she's quite in her element it would appear. The sudden displacement swings the Quinjet down on Pickle's tail, enough to buffet from the jetwash. Under 200 meters, practically touching in modern fighter terms.<<Come on Pickle, that the best you got? You're way too raw for a name like pickle, we get back I'mma find your XO and rename you zuccini.>> Get it, cuz a zucc...anyway.

    It's close a perfect attack line, Zinda's generating all the best angles. She won't have this envelope for long, not with Pick...Zuccini's thrust but missile lock is elementary from here. No she wants a gun kill to show off, because that's as good as oxygen. "Get'em locked up, he doesn't deserve a missile shot."

Melinda May has posed:
Sorry, no can do. That last maneuver not only disoriented May just enough to piss her off, it also get the attention of Command Central, and now she's busy trying to tell them to shut up and back off. But not in those words. Pickle (Zucchini?) is about to get clear of their possible weapons lock, and May is too distracted. At this point, even if she tried to get the gun turret turned around, it might not get weapons lock in time.

"... no, Hill. Look at the file again and then try to repeat yourself without... Yes. No. We'll talk about that later, just GET Actual off my back. ... Thank you."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Z glances aside with a wince, great. This would be why she prefers single seat outfits. She lifts a hand from the throttles to snag the targeting slew, and well it's not a nice and tidy simulated burst of fire to the cockpit but it's enough to stitch both engines and probably blow holes in the main spar. So it's a gun kill, it's just not the neat and tidy one she'd prefer. <<Guns guns guns, Snakebite actual. Splash one hotshot, be sure to let his XO know he just got chewed on by a Quinjet control.>>And off comes.
    "It's always a pain when somone else is throwing the thing around, especially if you haven't flown with them before."She rolls the Quinjet upright, and throttles back before easing into a slow climbing left turn. "Ya'll alright boss, bang your noodle bucket on the bulkhead?"She does reach a hand out, but well she's not going to just grab anyone. Thankfully for her, right?

Melinda May has posed:
May mutes her link to Command Central and looks over at Zinda as the Quinjet goes back to smooth sailing. "I'm fine." She isn't about to let on that it feels like she's going to have a heck of a goose egg above her ear on the side away from Blake. "Apparently, Command didn't bother to read your file when they approved this ride. City-flight's a no go." In other words, Blake's flying was SO outside of what they were expecting it made them panic a little bit. And whoever that Hill person May talked to is, they were NOT happy about being panicked like that.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Well and thats why I didn't join the Air Force or Shield when I got back."She pauses, dialing in her own return flight before letting the autopilot handle it. She yaaawns, slinking down in the seat a bit to get comfortable. "Every fighter pilot who ever walked, will tell you they're the best who ever was. Difference is, I actually -am-. Anyway I got a return course plotted, I'll let'cha fly one of my planes next time to make it up to you."