FWE, CAFW: Friday Writing Essential, Can you name this genres

For example: Sally writes horror. For today's prompt, she'll write something that lets us know she wants us to focus on horror in one of the future prompts. And what she shares doesn't necessarily have to be a horror scene. It could be something as simple as a short conversation between two characters where one tells the other that they read horror all the time; that it's their favorite genre. Or she could have a character see a new horror book that has just been released.

As soon as Rocky heard Buckwheat say Pre-cat-launch check complete, he looked up from the cockpit of the F-14 Tomcat.  He saw a lineman standing on the deck of the aircraft carrier; he looked like a little robot in his blue float-suit with bulky TYP’s covering his ears.  He was easy to pick out from all the other little robots scurrying around, because the helmet was painted like a black and white checkerboard.  Rockies olive-drab forearm sprung to the vertical position with the snap of a marine drill team; he spun it like he was stirring and upside down bowl of cake mix.  With the other hand he secured the oxygen mask over his face.  Now he could hear his own breathing through the speakers in his helmet.

Rocky looked up into one of the mirrors at the top of the bubble glass canopy.  It afforded him a view of Buckwheat, his RIO, who was his backseat-er and was just putting on his oxygen mask.  Buckwheat's voice came over the voice activated intercom, “Hoi Yea, Let’s go bag some Migs.” Buckwheat slid his visor down until it met his oxygen mask and leaned his head back against the headrest in preparation for the launch.

The lineman was knee deep in steam that floated out of the catapult rails.  He raised his left arm straight up; then he watched the blast deflector rise up behind the twin engine fighter and lock into place. With the same arm he twirled his forearm and held two fingers up with the other hand.

Rocky advanced the two power levers to afterburners two, and locked them into place.  The plane shuddered against the catapult and the smell of burnt jet fuel filled the cockpit.

The lineman saluted and then swung his spinning raised arm in the direction of the launch while simultaneously crouching down to let the wingtip mounted sidewinder go over his head.

Rocky breathing was much faster now.  After returning the salute, he lowered his visor and leaned his head back against the headrest.  Just in case, he put both his hands on the arming levers at the end of his ejection seat for security.

In an instant the feeling of being a pebble in a slingshot momentarily stopped his breathing. The whole deck scene had disappeared and there was nothing but gray ocean water on the horizon.