Well then...it's been a while since I sat down and did one of these log entries... but seeing as how the boss wants it, I'll deliver. Uhmm, this report is a bit dated and my memory of the events may not be the best, but a few days ago, I wound up flying somethin a bit smaller than my usual frigate out of sheer boredom and the urge to cause a bit of trouble.

It all started when I first heard a call over the open Rogue comm wave... some boys had found themselves a few navy fighters that were more than asking to be turned to Junker scrap. I quickly ran down to the docks on Buffalo and hopped in my fighter. Gotta say, it was somewhat refreshing to be in a ship that could turn a full 360 degrees in less than 5 minutes. But yeah, I headed to their location and low an behold, I found a navy fighter giving one of our Rogue brothers a bit of trouble.

I sent out a warning to the pilot, one that was of course ignored, then released the canon locks and opened up on that mother. The fight turned into one of those where neither side does enough damage to actually count, however, once this other fighter... some idiot named Dave Moose joined the fray, that's when things started to change. My wingman and I ended up gettin hammered on pretty hard and... well, in the confusion, I think he ended up dusted before reinforcements could get to us.

I ended up runnin for my skin, tryin to make my way back to Buffalo and at one point, it looked pretty bleak. But I'm a stubborn *Static* I turned on that pilot and let loose. I wasn't gunna go down without a fight and, well, I actually did a fair bit of damage to him before I was forced to turn and run. That other navy pilot decided to join ole Moose boy and it was only by sheer dumb luck... and a lot of mines, that Moosey bit the dust.

I was so shocked, you have no idea. Usually those navy boys are so good at avoiding mines, even in the thickest of combat, but nope, he flew right into that tiny field I'd managed to drop and BOOM, dead. *Laughs with a somewhat eerie tone* But yeah... I managed to take one of them out and that's all that mattered. Sadly, his wing mate, who's name I can't for the LIFE of me remember took quite a bit of offense and just started in on me. That boy was relentless. I'm still shocked that I managed to escape. My whole rig was on fire, I had coolant venting into the cockpit and I swear [i]to god[i/] there was a sizable crack in the canopy. But somehow I did it. I powered up my cruise engines not half a k from that mother and somehow managed to get the hell out of dodge.

Don't get me wrong, I was scared half to death. I couldn't remember if my fighters auto life pod was working or not, and I was damn sure not in the mood to suck vacuum that day. But yeah, the moment Buffalo came into view, I couldn't help but cheer. anyways... that was a few days ago. My gun cams weren't working and the cha logs are all scrambled, but still. Now if I can only find where I left my pistol I could get that moment the bartender owes me.