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Don't wake me while I'm quiet

Hell. Tartarus. Mountains, Nichyipar's prison.

- So then, the old moron got what's coming to him, - a chained figure spoke from the depth of the cave. - And we are finally vindicated, my daughter.

- That we are, even if I am not your daughter, Elder, - noted the tall and rather thin woman standing in front of the massive stone that sealed the entrance to Nichyipar's lair, - but the humans are here, and they claim to be the masters of all.

- Have you brought them to me? - Nichyipar looked through the tiny hole in the sealing stone of his prison.

- Yes, Elder, - the woman nodded. - I have. Those are not much different from the ones I met during our travels on Earth, Elder. Their weapons, however, have changed rather... dramatically.

She then pulled up a body of a Russian army soldier in field uniform.

- He called himself... “patrol”. Asked me for my name. When he finally understood who I am, it was too late, - she laughed. - They are so gullible, Elder. Some things never change.

- You came here to taunt or ridicule me? - cried out the massive figure from the shadows. - You beast!

- No, Elder, - the woman shrugged. - I never intended to. The humans are not news. After all, who did not know in earnest that it would come to this...

- I expected a different result, - Nichypar laughed. - But then, after the ill offspring of God imprisoned me here, the failure probably was pre-determined.

- Will you listen to me or not, Elder! - the woman grew irritated. - The weapons I spoke of... they are so powerful that they could release you from your prison. Whereas you would need a thousand-strong crowd to move the great stone, a human weapon can release you with ease! And of course... - she paused. - It can kill you, Elder. Such is their new strength, which led to the downfall of Mekratrig. Arrogant idiot. Who shall not know the lust for violence and the cunning of humans, cunning in all things murder.

- You plan to release me then? - the old daemon asked, his mind slowly realizing what this new information meant for him personally and all of Hell.

- What? - the woman laughed. - No, Elder. And this is the last time I bring you food, - she threw the soldier's corpse through the half-meter wide window. - Verily, Elder, the same weapons can be used to seal you even better...

- But why? I was the one who gave you everything... you would not be without me!

- Let the thought of freedom so near torture you for all time, - the woman smiled and turned her head, laughing so loud that the echo went on through the canyons. - No torturer or executioner would ever compare to the torture of one's own mind, ever pondering what might have been.

Having said that, she went away. When Nichyipar thought that she reconsidered, he heard a thud far above, where the massive stone door and the small window were, and the window went dark. Nichypar screamed over the body of the dead soldier, ripping his uniform and tearing the flesh in futile rage. Only after he devoured the food she brought he finally understood. He roared and cried, as loud as he only could. He knew that she was already far away, and the thought of her smiling face burned hotter than the streams of molten lava.

Hell. Tartarus. On the road, five hours earlier.

She heard the news, but witnessing the iron chariots of the humans herself? Yes, it was certainly possible that they made such things.

A man was riding atop the iron chariot, holding some sort of weapon. It was undeniably a weapon. She understood it rather clearly.

There was a brief thought that if humans managed to kill Mekratrig, they would sure be able to kill her, a mere nephilim, but once again she defied fear... and came on the road in front of the chariot.

- My apologies! My apologies... - she spoke hastily, when the great iron beast stopped in front of her and the man pointed his gun straight into her head. - You are undoubtedly the great koldun of this region? I am honoured to feel your presence...

- Hey girl... where did you come from? You're one of the newly liberated? How did you even end up here? - the soldier spoke in a familiar, but slightly different language, she noted. - You're one of the Free Dead, right?

- Yes, I am, - she nodded. - Horrible tortures awaited me, but your friends rescued me, noble koldun. I have heard from my sisters that your magic of good is so powerful, and many of my brethren have been released. I am your sister as well... from the old tribes I remember the language you speak.

- And you are? - the human went down from his chariot, and two others immediately rose from it's belly.

- Odnoglazka, - she spoke quietly. - Please, take me with you. I am lost here, and the daemons are...

- What a strange name, - the human smiled. - Well, you're probably from times so ancient that we think they are a fairytale now. Get in.

- Hey Boris! - said one of the men behind him with clear disapproval. - We are on patrol duty, not search and rescue duty. We should leave the survivor and report her location once we get back to the camp.

- Come on, Misha, - the human turned back. - She's alone, and she is so old... I mean, from such an old age that she hardly would know what to do with all the stuff going on now. We can help her. Look how frail her figure is, and her hair is so white! She probably endured a lot in her life. We're liberators of Hell, aren't we?

His companion remained silent, but his look was menacing. She returned the favour with her lone eye.

- Where's her eye, Boris? Her second eye?

- The bald... - tried to explain a sudden inconsistency Boris.

- Don't, - the human pulled out his gun. - All injuries heal nigh-momentarily here. Regeneration is extremely potent. I don't believe her.

She smiled.

- Yes, you are right, - she pulled out a knife. - But it's too late.

The humans raised their strange weapons in panic, but then froze, disoriented. Ah, what easy prey. She closed in on them, stabbing their eyes with her thin, needle-shaped dagger. Easily concealed, it was her favourite weapon. They fired chaotically in the air, trying to hit her – or places where they saw her standing, all of them false. Stray bullets ran around her, as if she were in some sort of a field deflecting the gunfire.

She killed all of them, of course – even those inside the iron chariot, although disorienting their minds was far harder. She did not like the protective wear they had, so she took it off. Slowly sapping the new knowledge out of their heads while they died, she felt satisfied. A large part of this knowledge was beyond her understanding, but the fragments of memories had shown things so awesome she could not imagine it was possible.

- Don't wake me up while I sleep, - she smiled, one of the last remembrances of the dead human was this simple phrase, apparently it was a proverb in his home lands or something. - Now, now... how true is that after thousands of years.

She thought that the humans' sexual experiences also warranted attention – they were new to her, and some of the encounters and fantasies those dead humans had in their life chilled her imagination... and so she preserved these memories in some faraway part of her brain.

Then she carefully dragged the bodies to the iron chariot and entered it.

Took two hours to figure out how to drive. A lone BMP turned off the road and headed for the mountain range north-west.

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Who is she?

She's a Nephilim with a tad of mind powers and mild TK. To the people of Earth, she is known as... well, should I really open her story before I tell it?

Pezook probably easily guesses that though

Stas Bush wrote:She's a Nephilim with a tad of mind powers and mild TK. To the people of Earth, she is known as... well, should I really open her story before I tell it?

Pezook probably easily guesses that though

Bad Stas teasing us lke that.

Interesting enough.
Amazing to see an Armageddon based story that doesn't involve humans effortlessly slaughtering demons

Neat story so far. Spoiler I did also run into the Tale of Kroshechka-Khavroshechka Spoiler is it one of those?

Well, obviously she's Odnoglazka, but I won't elaborate, either (and I say that with a little snicker, considering that's her name in the story.)

XII century, year 1114 AD. River Oka basin, in vinicity of today's Kaluga region. Village.

The preacher tried to write, but for some reason the wooden tablet fell to the floor everytime he pressed a little harder. The broken chair just a day ealier and the doors that seemed to slam into his face every time he tried entering a house... he shaked the thoughts off. He is not one of those pagans to believe their silly tales. And if it's a daemonic curse, his God will protect him.

Two pagans which the village elders ordered to serve Kuksha entered the hut with reverence, but immediately fell to the floor, looking not into his eye, but somewhere above him.

- Master Kuksha! - one of the pagans called him by name with fear. - You still believe in your god?

- His is the Kingdom of Heaven, - answered Kuksha meekly.

- Well, then, could he deliver you from her? - one of the pagans whispered, and made something like an evil laugh, but his eyes were full of primeval fear. - She's right on your neck...

Kuksha Pechorsky, the Servant of the One True God, and the Great Teacher of the Vyatichi, smiled.

- The Lord will deliver me from evil.

- You don't even see her! - the pagan cried. - You are doomed, fool.

Kuksha wanted to say something, but felt his shoulders getting heavier. He waved the pagan servant away and, distraught, stepped in the center of the room.

- Our Father, thou art in Heaven...

- Sssstop, - he heard a whisper. - He won't care.

- Who are you? - he turned around. - Are you a demon? Come out!

And then he saw - it was almost as if it were a hallucination - female legs going down from his shoulders.

- Weak mind, - spoke the voice, and his eyes suddenly started to see a contour... a figure. A woman. Thin and frail, she stood in the room right in front of him.

- Daemonic spirit! - spoke Kuksha with reverence. - A defier of the Lord our God.

- Indeed, mortal, - she smiled. - Defier.

She seemed so irresistibly sexy to Kuksha. He could no longer hold himself... wait, what was he doing? But it did not matter - soon he was in her arms. She enjoyed completely controlling the weak mind of the Christian preacher. He was such an easy target - always walking on public, talking to people... his travels shaped up his body, and she thought he might be useful for further experiments...

Her last victim did not live too long - the intensity of sex with a nephilim, a person whose augmented physical strength was exceeding that of any human, and the loss of control over that strength during coitus left so many humans dead that she stopped counting. Not every single one of them was able to give birth to a new life that she sought in this world, but some were. Probably Kuksha is one of them... she noted that he was still breathing after she finished the act.

- Very well, slave... - she smiled. - Now, carry me to the Vilko village. I'm done here.

He stood up, his mind hardly realizing anything that transpired. She wiped his memories clean - most likely doing extensive damage to his brain in the process, but it did not matter now.

Sitting comfortably on his neck, she ordered him to walk out and head towards the bridge. Kuksha obeyed. He slowly opened the door of his house which he used as a church to bless the being he was sure was God, and walked down through the field to the main road which ran straight through the village and over a small pond that Kuksha wanted to "dry" with the power of his God. She laughed. Pathetic.

The sight of a preacher with a woman on his neck on the road must have awed the inhabitants of the village that were too resilient or too far for her to assail right now, straight after orgasm.

Suddenly she felt Kuksha attempting to free himself from her mental control. His dying mind was probably given power by preservation instincts... the man rushed through the village, and jumped into the water from the bridge, clutching her legs with his hands. Now, now... with the strength of a nephilim it was easy to free herself. But the dying man struggled with her - in the water, her mind control was weakened, and now he sought to kill her with all his strength. She felt his hands on her neck... not good. But he kept his eyes open to see her underwater. She pushed her finger right into his eye, killing Kuksha.

Then she threw off the dead body of the human and lifted herself up to the surface. The villagers were all assembled right in front of the pond. Oh well...

- Likho! It's Likhooo! I saw her, she was on his neck! - cried out one of them. - Run if you want to live!

And some of them did run away, but others - some armed with metal - did not. Metal... metal is bad. Damn. She was still too weak after the fight. Air was of course far better than water - the excruciating pain after concentrating her mind on enslaving other wills slowly left her. Killing them all? Definetely an option. But there are better ideas, she thought. Funnier. Her naked body confused them, just as her lacking eye.

- Look, here is your miracle maker! - she laughed, lifting the dead body out of the water. Hovering in it was not hard, and neither was manipulating Kuksha's remains. - He promised to empty this pond with the power of his "god"! But I laid his pride to rest... and you now, witness true power!

She concentrated... the pond was very heavy. Maybe far too heavy for her. But she was one of a kind, the survivor of Nichyipar's murderous tests, where hundreds fell, and the power she had was well-honed. The water went up, flooding the plain and swept away the armed villagers in a muddy flow. She slowly went down, and finally her feet felt the grassy bottom of the pond.

The village was a mess, and cries of fear and desperation filled the air. She smiled. It was such moments that gave her a reason to live. It was a perfect symphony of suffering, so simple and yet brilliant, far superior to Mekratrig's boring self-glorifying choirs in Dis, which the lord of Hell seemed to enjoy so much.

Deeply satisfied, Likho left the vyatich settlement, stepping through mud. A naked body covered in dirt... this thought excited her. She should try having sex in some sort of mud next time, and then drown the victim. The feelings he will experience during mud asphyxiation might be different from the ones those pitful mortals experience when sinking in clear water... and thus worth collecting. After passing another kilometer, she thought about the feelings of humans burned alive. For some reason, fire interfered with her abilities, and thus she thought about a way to pull that off. Maybe burning a small part of a human will cause him to experience the same, albeit in a lesser force?

In any case, she needed rest for the next few weeks. She might bear a child, and it was more important that having fun with those silly animals.

I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that that evil monster's love of torture and tendency to backstab will be her undoing.

I assume that bullets will be her undoing, actually. But that certainly might help.

Interesting story. I found a description of Likho on Wikipedia, but not Nichyipar (the search engine suggested Nicholas). Who is Nichyipar?

<Snip spam. Sorry about that. >

Sidewinder wrote:Interesting story. I found a description of Likho on Wikipedia, but not Nichyipar (the search engine suggested Nicholas). Who is Nichyipar?

Eulogy wrote:I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that that evil monster's love of torture and tendency to backstab will be her undoing.

I'm tempted to write a story where Likho tries to play a sabertrooper for a fool.

Sabertroopers are clonetroopers from a fanfic I wrote. They're physically strong enough to destroy a main battle tank with a sword, durable enough to survive multiple hits from an AK-47 fired at close range AND remain strong enough to tear apart the shooter with their bare hands, have magnetic abilities that some mistake for psychokinesis (enough to lift a main battle tank off the ground), and have a tendency to view their enemies as walking Happy Meals (yes, they're cannibals; blood is their favorite drink), and are fanatically loyal to Darth Vader.

You can imagine the consequences of pissing off someone like that. A fiend as sadistic as Likho deserves nothing less.

Nobody wants to read about your fucking wank that you write in your shitty fanfics and post in every single thread that has the vaguest relationship.

Stas this story is awesome. I love the fact that it's placed in the Armageddon verse.

Looking forward to more.

Two things:
#1: Did I miss the part where it was specified that these two troops (I assume CIS)? I doubt that they would have been left out of the "foil hat" issuing, being at least more up to date than those unlucky Middle Eastern guys who Memnon confronted were.
#2:

She thought that the humans' sexual experiences also warranted attention – they were new to her, and some of the encounters and fantasies those dead humans had in their life chilled her imagination... and so she preserved these memories in some faraway part of her brain.

WIN. You sir are a Hero of the Soviet Union(tm). (Normally I'd just say "hero." )

I wonder how will the Obama presidency handle the war.

Hell. Ravaged section of the Great Wall of Dis.

The partisan camp was well-hidden in one of the caverns of the cyclopic structure, and well-guarded as well. On top of the wall, a group of people assembled. They seemed so tiny and insignificant compared to the mega-structure, but yet they were the great power that crushed this wall once and for all. A large breach could be seen some thirty kilometers away from any overflying plane. And there were quite a few recon and transport planes and helicopters flying around in Hell recently.

A Mi-24 streaked overhead, heading for the nearest airfield. The enormous size of DiS ensured that humans had to use all aircraft they could scramble to patrol Hell's airspace. Remnants of Hell's "resistance" so to say now slowly understood what happened and indulged in hopeless rage attacks, trying to ambush humans who have not yet been granted modern arms to resist them.

The humans were there to make all of the imprisoned inhabitants of Hell understand how to fight, and how to defeat the enemy. And this small group of people on the wall was part of the greater war. They were led by a person who, upon liberation, immediately vowed to spread the fight to every corner of Hell - partisan Kovpak. A lieutenant-general. A living legend. He was now here, wearing a common Soviet Army helmet, once again called to the frontlines - called by his own will.

- I'm sure most of my comrades who lived after the Great Victory are familiar with this weapon. However, today we have newcomers from... what years, remind me? Ah right. 1940 and 1915. They would hardly know the most powerful machine gun created by our glorious Motherland! - Kovpak raised his voice. - Now, let us demonstrate it's power for newcomers.

A caught daemon helplessly struggled far away in the distance, running around in a fenced square.

- Target is over three kilometers away. This is a direct shot distance. Optics in order?

One of the soldiers checked the sights on the old machine gun.

- In order, Sydir Artemovich!

- Very well! - the aged partisan commander kneeled before the mighty gun. - Now for the newcomers. If we were using the gun against humans, a hit in any part of the body would have been deadly. The bullet would just rip this whole organ away. Understood? Our enemy is a little more resilient, but even he can't hope to survive under a barrage.

The KPV* came alive, pouring out bullets. 64-gram gifts of death left the muzzle and covered a good thousand meters in a single second. The improvised practice range was almost immediately strewn with the blood and intestines of the unlucky demon chosen as target by the partisans.

- Let's go down and check the range, - Kovpak said, inviting most of all the young soldiers who died in the age of World War I to come over and see the effects of the KPV, and slowly went off to a stone ladder.

Several people remained in the machine gun nest, ever vigilant, looking into the expanse unfolding around both sides of the wall. Now equipped with optical binoculars and other stock equipment from the massive military reserves that Earth tried to reliably supply to the partisans, they were a formidable enemy for any stray beast roaming the ways of Hell. And they were ruthless enough, after almost a century of torment, to ensure none of them survived. Partisans rarely accepted "surrender". However, with the capitulation of most of Hell's armies, killing the wrong daemons became unacceptable, and the group was wondering whether the enormous mobilization of the liberated populations had a tangible goal.

Kovpak was satisfied by the spirit of the newly liberated humans and their readiness to risk another death to kill the enemy, but he mourned every single man he lost in combat. Petr, Genka, Kuzma... they were peasants from sometime in the XIX century, and it was hard for them to grasp modern operations.

Most of the equipment which was used by the partisans was around the time of Great Patriotic War - including the KPV, which became one of the prime demon-killer tool in the hands of humans, means to defend safely from any type of attack, either harpies or some behemoths running on the ground. People who came from prior times, especially prior to the Revolution, had little time to get accustomed... and it meant the difference between life and death all too often.
Kovpak already wrote his good friend, Petr Evseevich Braiko, who, despite the old age, was immediately re-instated back home as an expert on Contact with Soviet-era Partisans (or some other name for that fancy commitee that Sydir did not really like). He commended the war effort of the Motherland, but never stopped asking for people of pre-XX century times to be relieved off duty. Any casualties suffered by the liberated in Hell were all the more bitter since they were suffered on the verge of victory, and losing comrades twice is a torment to a commander who genuinely cares. Such were the Ukrainian's thoughts as he led his small training squad along the plain towards the shooting yard.

Suddenly, when the group was a few hundred meters away from the wall, a Mi-8TV helicopter gunship - the most prevalent type of machine around this part of Dis - approached from behind, overflying the Great Wall and hovering over Kovpak's group. Something was wrong with the machine. It made violent erratic turns in the air, which hardly made any sense with at total absense of enemies. What was it trying to do?

And then Sydir understood. The pilot tried to aim at them.

- Down! All men down! - Sydir jumped towards the next boulder, and his trusted aid Petro immediately followed, covering the commander with his own body.

The helicopter made a strafe from it's 12,7mm machine gun over the group, and then stopped to turn around and make a another shot, hovering low above the partisans. However, at this time it stopped violently shaking - as if the pilot regained control - and was pretty sure aiming for the kill.

"Missiles" - thought Kovpak with fear, realizing that it might be the moment his newfound life ends. He clenched fists.

And then the KPV on the wall awakened, hitting the helicopter's side and causing it to catch fire and swing to the right. The machine still struggled to remain in the air, but it seems the parts of the engine were now damaged and aflame.

Still, the pilot managed to turn the helicopter towards the firing machine gun and rise over the wall, dropping a 250-kg bomb straight on top of it. The explosion made the small group fall down once again. Then the helicopter, covered by thick black fumes, went down beyond the wall into Dis and disappeared from view. Maybe it crashed somewhere close? But there was no sound, and the noise of the machine blades cutting the air soon vanished. Means he flew quite a bit... pursuing on foot through Dis could be reckless and useless. Sydir spit on the ground. Did daemons learn to operate helicopter? Are there enough traitors already to operate the technology for them? Chertovshina.*

- Quick! - the lieutenant-general rose to his feet. - Robyata***, training's done. We need to report this immediately.

* - KPV - "krupnokaliberniy pulemet Vladimirova", Vladimirov's large-caliber machine gun
** - "satan's thing", a common curse which is used when something out-of-order happens (like "witcraft")
*** - folks

Edward Yee wrote:#1: Did I miss the part where it was specified that these two troops (I assume CIS)? I doubt that they would have been left out of the "foil hat" issuing, being at least more up to date than those unlucky Middle Eastern guys who Memnon confronted were.

I noticed that too. It seems One-Eye's* telepathic abilities can work even through the hat. This certainly has very interesting (in the Chinese sense) implications for the war on Heaven. Though out-universe I can't honestly say I was too disapointed, I must admit I'm not a huge fan of the way Hell's only real advantage got so easily nerfed away.

I like this story, because One-Eye seems to be a much more intelligent foe than Satan Merkatrig and his bunch.

*That is what Odnoglazka means, isn't it?

Yeah, One-Eye's abilities are far superior, but she is one of a kind.

Nyichipar was one of the old stock demons who thought more of mankind than just "stupid fodder", and conducted some grim breeding experiments to produce a bunch of useful nephilim, of which One-Eye and several other creatures were the result. However, he was imprisoned by Satan and his idiot brigade since they assumed he did it to usurp power in Hell (not too far from the truth, but still). Nyichipar, for those who wonder, is from the Slavic pagan mythology of Hell. It's similar to Christian one. Nyichipar is the "old chort" (old daemon, old satan) who is bound by 12 extremely strong chains in a remote part of Hell, never to free himself. The reasons for his bounding are never explained, but he is claimed to be one of the oldest, or actually the oldest daemon in Hell.

Her mind control depends on the human reaction and degree of self-awareness (and she can assume full control of a mind when it's dying and losing awareness, scavenging it for memories or useful skills and knowledge). She's the "vampire telepath" of sorts.

She can't immediately control someone completely due to tinfoil hats and a multitude of other factors, but her mind powers are strong enough to fuck up people's sight directly, making self invisible (gets progressively harder the more people are in the area, and the more alert their minds are), fuck up people's other vital feelings like hearing and touch.

It's hard for her to cause specific hallucinations (that's why she didn't just generate an intact eye in the minds of all other soldiers simultaneously), especially for many people, so she sticks to desorienting or trying to vanish from sight - the most useful and honed skill that she used for surviving that long.

One or two humans could be, after some time passes, slowly and completely bent to her will meaning they would see and do what she wants 100%. That's the way she behaved in old ages, getting on a man and travelling with him, slowly subduing his mind until there was little left to find out and she became bored with the human.

Personally I found the stupidity of daemons irritating, so here's a half-bred daemon-human who can assimilate knowledge, making her more dangerous each day she stays alive. She already knows how to use modern firearms, and assimilated a lot of knowledge about the human war and it's goals. And of course, she has goals of her own.

Considering the partisans' difficulties in dealing with the (I'm assuming it was nephilim-piloted) helicopter, may I assume Kovpak's group don't have RPGs?

Sidewinder wrote:Considering the partisans' difficulties in dealing with the (I'm assuming it was nephilim-piloted) helicopter, may I assume Kovpak's group don't have RPGs?

What difficulties? They shot it with a MG and it died FFS.

JointStrikeFighter wrote:What difficulties? They shot it with a MG and it died FFS.

The chopper died AFTER dropping a bomb on the machine gun, and crashlanded AFTER it flew beyond the partisans' hearing range, meaning the humans can NOT get to the pilot without risking an ambush. An RPG would've killed it much faster, and as the weapon is lighter than a KPV, the grenadier has a better chance of fleeing WITH THE WEAPON and surviving to launch another rocket if the first shot fails to kill the chopper.

Sidewinder wrote:

JointStrikeFighter wrote:What difficulties? They shot it with a MG and it died FFS.

The chopper died AFTER dropping a bomb on the machine gun, and crashlanded AFTER it flew beyond the partisans' hearing range, meaning the humans can NOT get to the pilot without risking an ambush. An RPG would've killed it much faster, and as the weapon is lighter than a KPV, the grenadier has a better chance of fleeing WITH THE WEAPON and surviving to launch another rocket if the first shot fails to kill the chopper.

Yeah and the RPG is GUARANTEED to miss too. The Somalis in Mogadishu shot down TWO Blackhawks in slow moving overhead cover patterns from an estimated 1000+ RPG's fired.

They do have RPGs - packed and in the basement camp - but you don't keep RPG nests manned and ready when you consider your prime enemy is a demon.

The single machine gun nest they had on the Great Wall was good enough to kill any daemon from a range beyond any daemon's attack. Clearly the same cannot be said of helicopters, but then, they didn't expect a Mi-8 to go apeshit on their position and try to slaughter them, right?

So this is more a surprise factor. It should also be noted that a large degree of luck is involved when either RPGing or machine-gunning a copter. It might as well killed it immediately (the KPV bullet muzzle energy is 33 kilojoules) were the gunner a little more adept at aiming. The RPG might miss the target totally, where the KPV is rather unlikely to miss it.

JointStrikeFighter wrote: Yeah and the RPG is GUARANTEED to miss too. The Somalis in Mogadishu shot down TWO Blackhawks in slow moving overhead cover patterns from an estimated 1000+ RPG's fired.

poorly trained Somali's stoned off their tits on Khat.

Wasn't there something like only four Blackhawks airborne in the area (originally), and did you (JointStrikeFighter) mean "an estimated 1000+ RPGs' fired" at said Blackhawks exclusively?