Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20170504012353/@comment-5543592-20170507023808

"You know, I dun't think I was born to fly these kind'a things..." He said. "You bettah' be a damn good pilot, miss."

"My capability for error is extremely low and I have reaction times thousand of times faster than a human.  The chance of you perishing in a spectacular fireball is unlikely as long as I am in control.  The person most likely to kill you, Duncan, is yourself."

"Uh, what happens if the Brotherhood decides to fight back against these things?" Tim asked as he lowered himself into the cockpit.

"Then I will fight back.  The F-16 is an extremely capable flying machine.  A fighter squadron flying in synch is likely to outmatch any airpower they have." Deborah informed Tim, her voice coming from his headset.

As one by one the Outsiders hopped got strapped in, the cockpit doors lowered overhead, and with a click locked into place.

The HUD flickered to life inside the helmet's visor, giving ammunition readouts, fuel capacity, current status of the jet, and oxygen level. They didn't need to take drinks from their mask yet, but there was a good chance they'd want to be gulping down oxygen within the next ten minutes.

"All systems go, preparing for take off." Deborah's voice came through everyone's headsets, as lights across their control panels flickered, throttles moved of their own accord, and buttons activated on their own. The jet's slowly rotated, settling into a single file line as they headed for the runway.