Wizards vs. Muggles (Free-form)

"Food in hogwart's always good"

I wonder if the staff get even better food? I'll probably be at the staff table."

-He starts to daydream about the good food, then snaps out of it-

"I always think the trainride is better than apparation, other wise you sit there doing nothing in hogsmeade.."

She puts up a radio voice "A-Ha! But because I have an iPod, I can play games and listen to music!"

Followed by a chuckle.

edited 20th Dec '10 9:34:02 AM by Faramir

"Ah but for how long? Less time than the trainride takes, Ha "

"... I can turn it off at any time... Jack..."

She drank some more of the water in the glass. "You know, I think muggles are planning something big, I saw some news about it on TV a couple weeks back."

-Seeing as Jack doesn't watch TV he grows curious-

"Why? What do you think they're planning? What was on TV?"

"Well, half that stuff is speculation anyway, but apparently they got intel on king's Cross and they're planning to hit it... or follow the tracks... or go undercover... or something... I tell you, TV reporters make up lots of the stuff they say, and whatever they don't make up might come from unreliable sources, so I wouldn't go around with a bulletproof vest... but it's still troubling, theoretically, the best moment to attack would be during boarding."

She drank the last of her water "A wizard nine-eleven, if you will."

"And your not worried about the trainride? Well we could appqrate away..but what about the others who can apparate?.....well, nows not the time to get paranoid,it might not even happen as you say."

"Exactly. 'Sides, do you have any idea of the amount of things that could kill you just walking to the train station? Statistically speaking, every day you don't die makes it more likely for you to die the next day, so worrying about it won't do you any good."

She tapped a house elf on the shoulder "Um, house elf dude? Yeah, can I have something to drink? Anything sweet will do, you can pick" and turned her head back to Jack.

"The best deaths are always a surprise anyway, so there's no way you can prepare for it."

"I think you could turn anyone paranoid just by looking at them after that. Anyway, do you go to any clubs at Hogwarts? And what I pray, can kill you just by walking to the train station?"

edited 20th Dec '10 10:36:45 AM by bamack1

"A car accident, for one, a muggging, any illness going around, any loose wires or construction accidents, slipping on ice and hitting your head is an anticlimactic one.... tripping downstairs, a truck carrying chemicals around for different reasons being in an accident can asphixiate you, depending on the chemicals, an allergic reaction to something that's commonplace, a lot can go wrong in a big city. Hell, I read someone got killed because a guy committing suicide landed on him."

edited 20th Dec '10 11:31:52 AM by Faramir

Far above the coast of England, Bill Popincat stared out at the horizon with a bored look on his face. The magic carpet he’d been issued was comfortable enough, but he’d gone through all the books he brought in about a week. So now even though he wasn’t on watch, he had nothing better to do than look through the snoop-o-scope at the dull grey horizon.

He’d heard that the Muggles had machines to do this work for them. He believed that. What he didn’t believe is that they were so high up that they looked like stars at night. Even though he watched bright lights flicker by each night that weren’t on any of the star charts he brought, he still doubted it.

Somebody in the Sub-Ministry of War bought it though, so he was under strict orders not to allow those odd shooting stars to get directly above him. Right now though, since he’d watered his masbref plants, he was feeling very awake. A glint on the horizon not too far below caught his attention. He looked down and tried to point his scope at it but was looking at empty sky by the time he brought it around.

Once again he looked with an unaided eye and found the shape had resolved into a huge triangle and two smaller specks. And it was closer. Much closer than anything he’d looked at a second ago had any business being. And now it was even closer.

He pointed his wand at the signal torch and lit it, he than sent up a series of coded fireworks to get the attention of the other carpets. He looked back to the largest one with the command tent.

Red…

Green…

Blue…

Red!

That was the signal for attack! Nearby he heard John Tillsnot rousing his hippogriff and further off the other two from the observation post.

Bill grabbed his broom and flying cap. He’d seen a little action over Liverpool when Liversquid’s School had been evacuated, but this looked different.

He took a deep breath, mounted the broom, and took off.

…

Ivan Chapayev, Grom 6, couldn’t believe his eyes. He hadn’t seen such a fireworks display since he’d been on leave during the Olympics. And it hadn’t started at 37000 feet.

“Tvoyu math! The hell is that?” Ivan’s radar was blank except for a cloud bank a couple thousand feet below him.

“This is Speedbird Concorde 1, uh… you guys see that?”

A voice in Russian followed sharp on the heels of the Russian pilot. “This is the Kuznetsov. We see it on the gun-cam feed. You’re both weapons free, we will be diverting all patrols with sufficient fuel and launching the remainder of the squadron to assist. Remember, heat seekers might work, but don’t count on it.”

“Grom 5, Grom 6, what did he say?” The British voice broke in, some worry in it. “What should we do?”

Ivan frowned and keyed the mic. “You’re the flight lead 5, what should we do?”

"Speedbird Concorde 1, climb and go supersonic, now, and forget fuel consumption. Six, you're on my wing." The fighter broke into a frantic series of evasive maneuvers, spewing flares. At the same time, both pilots activated their infrared search systems and slewed the cameras in the direction of the fireworks. "Kuznetsov, Grom Five, give me a vector to my target!" "Grom, targets are zero-nine-three, angels thirty-six and climbing..."

And now Major Soloviev could see the loose collection of red dots on his infrared camera, although his radar was showing only a few blurs in the target direction. His R-27 missiles did not have a good tone, meaning...

"Chap, watch my six. Guns, guns, guns!"

The Su-33s' earlier maneuvers had them precious altitude, but the afterburning climb more than made up for it. From below the wedge of — men on broomsticks? What the hell? — Soloviev triggered his first salvo of 30mm shells, and had the satisfaction of seeing at least one bullet strike home. He emerged from the cloudbank only a hundred or so meters from the now-scattering wizards, and caught a quick glimpse of a broken body falling by before he left the broomsticks behind. To his left he caught a glimpse of tracer rounds as his wingman fired and missed with a snapshot salvo.

—

With the advantage of surprise gone, the battle quickly degenerated into a melee. The difference was that the Sukhoi pilots had over a decade of dogfight training; the wizards had not. In close formation, both fighters climbed turned and broke left as magic carpets, brooms, and hippogriffs converged on them. But only a few of the wizard fliers could go transsonic; the Flankers were under no such restriction. Another pass, another burst of shells riddled another carpet full of shrapnel and managed to throw off an unlucky wizard from his broom as he passed too close to the turbulence of Chapayev's fighter.

Then Soloviev made his mistake. Decelerating and turning, he was momentarily silhouetted against the clouds as he finally acquired a firing tone. In a turning dogfight the heavy planes could not match the enchanted fliers, and for a split second the Su-33 was lit up in a multicolored flash as the yellow of the firing rocket motors and the red-green beams of magical blasts strobed the underside of his plane. Then the Sukhoi dropped like a stone, several large holes in its fuselage, spinning and twisting. Miraculously there was no fire. Soloviev was mercifully unconscious from G-forces when his fighter disappeared into the clouds. Moments later he was joined by the falling, shredded hippogriff and rider whose heat signature had managed to attract his fatal attention.

The surviving Su-33 climbed away on afterburner, its pilot having learned an important lesson. The scattered wizard formation regrouped and tried to regain its pursuit, but it was hopeless. The glowing dots of the Concorde and its escort were many miles away when they broke the top layer of cloud cover.

—

Fifty miles away, the cruiser Pyotr Velikhiy was waiting for this very moment. Its targets were finally above the radar horizon, and at full power the heavy radars on the ship could finally distinguish them clearly enough for a firing solution. A quartet of S-300FM missiles exploded from the vertical-launch silos in the ship's bow and blazed after the fliers at Mach 6, who had foolishly decided to linger. Three of the already-shaken wizards were killed by shrapnel; the two survivors, both broomstick fliers, would report their experiences to their superiors. The first real aerial battle of the Muggle War had been fought. Both sides regarded it as a loss.

edited 20th Dec '10 1:38:16 PM by SabresEdge

The bar’s many patrons were pelted with dozens of bezoars as an officious man with a mustache-goatee combo trimmed into almost cartoony proportions strode into the bar followed by several men in the new dark blue robes trimmed with pale yellow, the uniform of the Sub-Ministry of War’s “Security Operatives”.

“Alright you lot, get to swallowing. We need some extra hands because something big is going down, we’re jus not sure what. Consider yourselves deputized for the day. “

Cries of protest were silenced when a flick of his wand put a blown-up copy of an official Ministry order authorizing one Dingus L’Blanc to do just that. He gave a charming smile while informing the bar of his vested powers in a voice corrosive enough to turn the Golden Gate Bridge into a contemptuous slurry polluting the Bay a bit worse than the ’16 oil spill.

“Most of you will be performing nuisance raids around London, if you’re caught at most you’d be fined if this wasn’t war time, as is you’ll be arrested and held. Please don’t do that. While we’re at it, we’ll kill two birds with one hex. Who here’s going to Hogwarts?”

"...I am..." Lita said. "These two are too, though I'm not sure she can do much" She pointed at the not-yet-sobered woman.

"Right. Get them ready for some action and look for the man outside with his hood up."

L'Blanc strode into one of the expanded trunks to spread the word.

"Yeah... I think the other two will take a while, she's somehow unconscious, regardless of the amount of water thrown in her face. I can only imagine her future... maybe current, hungover"

Alex felt the inside of the transport shake as it started climbing and gaining speed. "What the..." he trailed off as he looked out one window and saw the telltale sign of a fighter crashing down below.

"Frickin' flyin' Whiskeys! They took down one of our escorts!" he said, looking around the transport. "And we're like sitting ducks in here, if they can catch us" he muttered, not liking the feeling.

"Dammit!"

James pounded once on the side of the aircraft as the Flanker started to spiral out of control.

"I'm not seeing a 'chute!"

"Yeah... guys, we're being volunteered to go fix dumb problems wrongly. I think we should listen to the man with status a thing for ordering people around."

edited 20th Dec '10 2:45:21 PM by Faramir

"Uh, nothing to worry about fellows. We've broken off from the attackers, we lost one escort but we'll have a few more. Landing may prove to be... challenging since we're low on fuel, but with a slower approach we'll be okay." The pilot's voice didn't seem overly harried, but a pilot even slightly worried could be disconcerting.

The comotion had woken the Mustachioed man.

"Glad these Sukhois are on our side," He said with a distinct British accent. "'s not much fun being on the receiving end of a couple of naval fighters like that, let me tell you. Especially when on you're on a ship."

His facial expression seemed to twist slightly, into a slim grin. His eyes looked far away, but whether he was remenescing or reliving was hard to tell

Warren turned his attention from the dossier in his lap to see what Alex was talking about "Did you just say you saw a guy on a broomstick?" he asked; hoping the other man was joking. But when he got out of his seat to peer out the winder; the image of a falling fighter jet quickly erased any doubt in his mind.

"Looks like we met the welcome party; somebody better send a CSAR team for that guy down there."

He sat back down in his seat and it was at that moment when Warren noticed the other guy on the plane was speaking to them.

"Reminiscing about the old days?" he said with a grin?

Alex shook his head. "I still don't see any sign that the guy managed to eject... Think we got any of-" Alex stopped mid sentence as the explosions of the missles launched by the Pyotr Velikhiy cruiser appeared.

"... Well, guess that answers that" Alex muttered, before sitting back down in his seat.

can someone PM me a recap?

"Eh? Huh? Somethin' on fire?" Jay slurred stupidly after suddenly regaining conciousness.