NOVEMBER 24, 2014 NEAR A DISPUTED BORDER...

“Oh, her? Yeah, I know her....”

The Griffon in front of him shifted a bit on the stool he sat on, gripping an AK-47 close to his body. “It's going to take awhile… It happened years ago.”

He was silent for a moment, the echo of distant gunfire wafting through a broken window. “Did you know, there are three kinds of aces?” He suddenly asked. “Those who seek strength, those who live for pride, and those who can read the tide of battle.” As he said each one, he held up a claw. “And her… she was a true ace.”

He went silent. “Ten years huh?” Has it really been that long?” He sighed. “Damn…”

“So you did know her? Personally?” I asked.

He smiled at that. “Yeah… I did.” He got a distant look in his eyes, staring off at some unknown object.

The roar of jets shook the building as they passed low overhead, breaking the Griffon away from his memories. “That sound…” He strained his ear until they were long past, a new grin on his face. “Hay & Whinney F100 afterburning turbofans. What a sound, hm?” He turned to me. “F-15’s. Two of ‘em.”

Noting my surprised expression, he chuckled. “I flew ‘em during the war. Should know the sound by now.”

There was a pause. “Listen, kid…” He began, now speaking softly. “...the Second Usean Continental War was horrific. Devastating. The images I saw from the air still haunt my dreams to this day.”

“There were crimes committed by both sides, I won’t deny that. But what my country… my homeland did just so we didn’t have to ‘lose’...” He stared down at his claws. “That’s why I did what I did… That’s why I…”

“Everyone just wants to forget,” I said. “But they should know. Everyone should know what really happened during the war. And what a large part you played in it.”

To that, he gave a small grin. “It would be nice to finally get some recognition for what I did…”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“It was a cold and snowy day…”

APRIL 2, 2004 VALIAS AIRBASE, USTIO

A brief breeze blew across the terrain. Despite it being mid-spring, the weather was still cold, heavy, thick clouds constantly covering the sun, shrouding the landscape in perpetual twilight. Snow lay on the ground here most of the year, the temperature only rising high enough to melt the frost in late summer to make way for the wildflowers that would bloom out in abundance across the mountain range.

It was here, in the bleak, snowy, Tyrann Mountains where the demon first bared its claws.

She raced to her aircraft as sirens blared, a squadron of three MiG-21 Fishbeds roaring down the runway and taking to the gloomy sky.

She climbed up the ladder into the cockpit, the ground crew that had been refueling, rearming, and preparing the aircraft fell away as a loud whine began to fill the air. She reached back, bringing down the straps on each side, attached them together, and adjusted them, making sure they fit tightly against her body. She slid the helmet up over her mane, pitting it to the sides of her head, away from her face and out of her eyes. Clipping the two halves of the chin straps together, she brought the oxygen mask to her face, and slid down the visor.

She nodded to the dragon, apparently the crew chief, and she got the message, pulling away the chocks placed on the wheels. Appearing again below the cockpit where Rainbow could see her, she gave her a thumbs up, signaling that everything was all good. Rainbow gave a small nod, and once everyone had cleared the aircraft, nudged the throttle, the jet slowly beginning to roll forward. Taking a left on the taxiway, the press of a button on the dashboard closed the cockpit with a whirr, locking it into place around her. Clearing her throat, she reported to the control tower that she had begun to taxi to the runway.

An F-15 Eagle was ahead of her on the taxiway, hugging the right turns, and she followed it along until they both reached the runway. It was only when it began lining itself up down the center of the runway did she notice that its right wing was painted a crimson red.

Hanging on the threshold to the runway, she watched the red-winged Eagle start it's run, leaping into the air three quarters down the runway, it's twin turbofans kicking up snow and dust. With the blue glow of its afterburners fading into the clouds, she pulled her jet up, pointing it once again straight down the centerline.

Now it was her turn.

Following the echoes of the Eagle, she slammed the throttle open, pushed into her seat slightly as the afterburners propelled her down the runway, each bump and crack in the pavement kicking the aircraft from side to side.She pulled back hard on the stick, the rumbling increasing as the Draken pushed against the ground, struggling to get airborne. It finally leaped off the ground with the roar of the afterburners, pitching up to 40 degrees the ground fell away rapidly, her aircraft breaching the clouds above the base, emerging into the clear sky. As the gear folded into the aircraft with a clunk, she leveled off, pushing the throttle down to cruising speed, and raising the flaps.

“It's starting to come down…”

A shadow momentarily filled her cockpit, before swooping to her side, off her left wing.

The Red-Winged Eagle.

The squadron of three MiGs from before, who had been circling the base, were situated a few hundred feet higher than them, in a loose V formation. Down below, a pair of Tornado GR4s skimmed the snow, wings swept fully back.

One by one, they began.

“Shift One, on standby.”

“Shift Two, on standby.”

“Shift Three, on standby.”

“Panzer One and Panzer Two here, on standby.”

“Pixy here, armed and ready to rumble.”

She rolled her eyes. “Prism armed and on standby.”

She flipped some switches, her console beeping as her weapons were armed. At first it was only a few flurries, but then as they drew closer towards the clouds, the snow came down harder and harder, until flying below the thick clouds was an almost impossible task.

“This is base command, guess all you boys managed to get up. All squadrons, continue on your present course.”

“This is Pixy, roger that.” The F-15 responded, staying off her wing.

“Hey, who the hell thought it was a good idea to send up the Failzer squadron? Thought they were grounded after their last mission?” The voice of Shift Two cut in. “And aren't Tornados attack aircraft? What use will they be here?”

“I’ll have you know, Shit Two, that Tornadoes are actually fairly capable dogfighters, and are much more maneuverable at low speeds than your ancient MiG.”

“The Fishbed is a classic, and has served the world's air forces for over fifty years. It's a dogfighter, through and through. When was the last time a Tornado shot down an aircraft?”

“You were there, Saturn. If I remember correctly, you had a Gripen on your tail, and I...”

“Hey, this is Valais, cut the chatter! We’ve got a bearing on the incoming bombers, and we’ve updated your HUD!”

Her console beeped.

“Bearing 315, Griffon bombers approaching! We’ve got ten of them on radar, closing fast!” Shift One reported.

“B-52s and some Bm-335s. They’ve got escorts as well. I’m seeing a few flights of F-4s and F-5s above.”

“Nobody wants to bail out into a mountain of ice. We’re counting on you, flight leader.” Panzer Two said as the two of them pitched up, engines glowing.

“All units, prepare to intercept.”

“You’d better have our pay ready and waiting,” Pixy called back. “This’ll be a cakewalk. Hey Saki, be ready to pay up, we’ll be back before you know it.”

Whoever was on the other end of the line grunted. “We pay for number of targets destroyed, Pixy, not for mission completion. Better shoot down some of those bombers.”

The pilot laughed. “Do you know who you're talking too?”

Her radar beeped. Four aircraft, Bm-335 Lindwurms, flying in a loose V formation. Slightly above and behind them, five F-5Es hovered.

“Shift Squadron, follow me, we’re going high to deal with the escorts. Panzer, Pixy, you guys take care of the bombers.” The much more calm voice of Shift One said as his three Fishbeds began to climb, attempting to bait away the fighters.

“All units watch out, we’ve got enemy interceptors incoming. Don’t underestimate them, and don’t let them shoot down the bombers!” The voice was deeper and with a heavy Griffon accent. Must have been the escorts.

As she came out from behind a cloud, each aircraft in the distance became visible, a small black dot against a backdrop of white, each aircraft had a white contrail path leading right up to their position, the cold weather lowering the altitude at which contrails form. Behind them, seven more trails were visible, the second wave of B-52s.

A deep tone echoed through her headset as she switched to the long-range SAAMs, the system locking on to the nearest bomber.

Pixy peeled off and increased thrust, shooting off ahead of her. “Hey guys, lets mop 'em up quick and go for a little hot rum after this, eh?”

“Drinks on you tonight Pixy!”

As he groaned, she smirked slightly.

She closed her eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. The world went silent for a moment. She opened her eyes, all tension and worry swept away.

Let's do this.

She clicked her joystick. “This is Prism, Fox One!”

The AIM-7 leaped off its rail, snaking ahead, leaving a grey trail in its wake.

Flares and chaff lit up the sky as the bomber attempted to evade to the right, but only presented a larger target to hit.

In a quick flash, the bomber detonated, flaming metal raining down from where it had been in the sky.

Slash one.

“Whoa! Who is firing already?” Panzer One asked, lining up for a shot.

The enemy fighters broke away, scattering in all directions, going high and low.

“This is Shift One, engaging!” Missiles began to fly as yellow gunfire lit up the sky.

“One enemy bomber down! Nice kill, whoever that was!” Pixy praised. Then, not to be outdone, he shouted “Fox Two, Fox Two!”

Another bomber crumpled, spiraling down into the snow, it's wing ripped off.

“Jeez… that bomber looks ancient! Griffonstone still uses those things?” Panzer One commented, letting two missiles fly. They hit the wings, ripping large holes in the metal. The bomber wobbled in the air for a moment, seemingly refusing to go down, before an engine caught fire and the aircraft rolled over, slamming into the snow.

Now, only a single bomber remained, woefully outmatched, trying to avoid attacks from four enemy fighters.

“Agh, dammit, three bombers are already down! We’re sitting ducks down here! Where the hell are our escorts?”

She switched back to her normal Sidewinders, pulling a loose right bank over the last bomber, circling it as a Vulture would prey.

She dived down, slotting right onto the tail of the doomed bomber, flashes of cannon fire from the tail gun streaking past her cockpit. As she was about to take the shot, her HUD began to flash red, a frantic high-pitched tone blaring through her headset. She cursed, pulling back hard on the stick. “Dammit, I’ve got someone on my tail!”

She pulled another High-G turn and throttled down, her aircraft losing speed rapidly. The two missile streaks flew past, arching up into the sky and out of sight. The attacker, an F-5E, followed it's missiles, gaining altitude to attempt to get out from in front of her, the only place where she could attack him.

She activated the afterburners again, shooting up after him, staying right on the contrails. Lining up her sights, her aircraft rattled as she held down the trigger, the twin 30mm ADEN cannons spewing lead downrange.

The shot was hopelessly off target, but the point hadn't been to shoot him down. Startled by the gunfire, the pilot made a fatal error, failing to react to the two incoming missiles until it was too late.

She sailed through the debris, calling out her claim on the kill as her cockpit filled with white, flipping inverted and diving back towards the snow.

The last Lindwurm had been slain, by who she didn't hear, leaving only the Stratofortresses left to deal with.

Her craft beeped as it locked on, a sudden aircraft crossing in front of her. She blinked in surprise, then followed him, not going to pass up a free kill. It was an F-4, a Phantom, an aircraft designed to launch from aircraft carriers. It was a two-seater, from back when two-seat fighters were the norm, one to pilot and one to work the electronics, but many had been upgraded with new hardware allowing for only a single pilot.

This Phantom was away from the rest of the furball, possibly having recently outrun some missiles, or extending, trying to get a better angle on a target. But it didn’t matter, really.

She let the missiles fly, and one hit on the wing was enough to bring it down, the canopy popping off and falling away, and parachute deploying and drifting to earth.

She made a mental note to inform someone of the downed pilot.

“This is Otto 5, we’ve been hit! IFF is out of commission. Unable to carry out duty, withdrawing from operation airspace.”

A B-52, it's wing hit badly and spewing heavy amounts of smoke, shot overhead, still somehow staying airborne.

“One of the bombers has left the airspace. He must’ve chickened out.” Base reported.

“Why would he leave after getting this far?” Pixy wondered, dodging gunfire from the tail of another Stratofortress. Two more exploded in the distance, Pixy claiming them as him over the radio.

“Come on Pixy, leave a few for us will ya?” Shift Two begged, striking down an enemy fighter.

Pixy laughed. “It's every man for himself out here, you know that, Saturn.”

She looked back at the fleeing bomber. It had gotten a considerable distance away from the battle by now, despite its wounds. There was no one in the vicinity, and since no one was going for it…

She switched to her long-range missiles and flipped around, lining up the shot. With a beep, it dropped off the radar.

“Low-life mercenaries! Only you would be so cowardly to shoot down a plane that's out of commission!” The escorts growled.

“Damn! Who the hell pissed them off?” Panzer Two asked, dodging a missile. “And, uh… some help here?”

It was an F-5 on the tail of the Tornado, one painted bright orange with Tiger stripes painted up and down the aircraft.

This pilot wasn’t trying to hide, he was making his presence known to all. An enemy Ace, flaunting his skill with color.

“Fox Two!” She shot a missile at him, only a single one, not enough to shoot him down because she knew it wouldn’t hit.

Seeing that another player had entered the game, he broke away, pulling a tight turn left, and suddenly coming right at her, closing fast.

She pulled a split-S, flipping around inverted and pulling hard on the stick, going underneath the attacker who had turned right.

With the F-5 now above and to the right of her, she increased thrust, and regained altitude, chasing the little dot in the sky. Suddenly, the little craft pulled a high-G maneuver, once again coming in for a headon pass, but he was too high above her for her to get missiles off!

As the two yellow dots came towards her, the tiger ace peeling away. She panicked, throttling down and kicked the rudder hard to the left, pulling very hard on the stick, stalling her Draken right in the air, spewing chaff and flares everywhere.

The two sidewinders flew right past, detonating a distance away, the explosion shaking her aircraft. She grunted, the explosion rattling her around the cockpit. The aircraft began to slip, going into a flatspin. She cursed to herself, but remained calm. She knew how to handle this, she had done it many times before in training on how to handle this exact situation. Throttling up right up to the farthest it would go, practically leaning on the stick.

After dropping several hundred feet, air began flowing over the wings again, and her J35 slowly ceased it's spinning, allowing her to regain control over the aircraft. Pulling up ever so slowly from her dive, she chased after the fleeing jet, who had changed targets and was now going after one of the Fishbeds.

Closing fast, she squeezed off a burst of gunfire, only a few of the bullets hit, but none doing any real damage.

Suddenly, a new missile shot out of the clouds, blowing apart the F-5. “Hey! She pulled away from the now flaming wreck, watching as the cockpit flew off and the pilot ejected. “Who the hell just stole my kill?!”

A Fishbed pulled up beside her, a large number two painted in red on the tail. “Hey, you in the Draken, you’re the new pilot, right?” It was Shift Two.

“What does that have to do with you stealing my kill?!”

“You’ll learn quickly that there is only one rule for us mercenaries…” He banked away, trailing white contrails in his wake. “... it's everyone for himself!”

“He’s a bit of a dick. Just ignore him like everyone else.” Panzer Two commented, flying alongside. “And, uh… thanks for getting that guy off my tail. I owe you one.”

She didn’t say anything, following the trails of the Fishbed, up towards where the last wave of enemy bombers waited.

“This is Otto 16 to our escorts. Where the hell are you?! We’re getting slaughtered down here!” Another bomber shuddered from a missile impact, falling down in flames. “Damn, another one down…”

“We’re trying our best, but these guys are giving us a hell of a fight!”

“Fox One!” She led the radar missile to its target, a flash signaling the end of another bomber.

“Ah... fuck it. Otto Squadron, follow me, we’re getting the hell out of here!” As flares and chaff clouded the radar screens, the remaining B-52s made a mad dash for home, the few remaining fighters fleeing alongside them, attempting to draw attacks.

“This is base command. Looks like the enemy craft are retreating from the airspace. Good job everyone.”

She hovered from a distance away, watching the battle as it drifted away. Yawning, she turned towards home.

“Is Shift Squadron still out there?” Panzer One asked, the Tornado off her right wing, it's sweep wings now fully extended.

“Not all of us.” Came the response from a lone Fishbed. “Saturn and Orion, the idiots, are still out there chasing glory. One day, Saturn’s going to get himself into a heap of trouble and drag his brother down with him…”

“It will be fun to watch when it happens,” Pixy commented. “That bug’s just too damn annoying.”

A chorus of agreements came across the radio.

The lights of Valais appeared out of the haze. She should get used to seeing them, she reasoned. She was going to be here for some time.

It all started on that snowy day.

My first impression was… she had potential.