-Transmission start-
25th November, 2005
Near a disputed border
"Oh him?"
Although softly spoken, those words carried a large significance that seemed to dwarf the rhythmic pounding of artillery and chatter of machine gun fire somewhere in the distance. The front lines were 15 miles from here but there was still a war going on, and it was telling us never to forget that fact.
"Yeah, I know him."
We were in a small, dilapidated dwelling that resembled the empty shell of a house. The windows were all smashed in, rubble and glass occupying various parts of the room, bullet holes were riddled in all types of arrays, and there was a nasty hole in the wall that was probably caused by a ballistic projectile or explosive. A similar hole in the ceiling acted as a improvised skylight and provided minimal light into the room, casting a gray iridescent glow across everything it touched. I was grateful for the light, since it improved the visual quality of my interview.
"It's going to take a while,"
I re-examined the man I was interviewing. I took notice of the short brown hair, hardened brown eyes, and cleanly shaven chin. He was wearing a light brown leather jacket with a darker brown sweater underneath and long pants. Heavy-looking boots were his choice of footwear.
"It happened years ago."
He is sitting on a metal fold-up chair in the middle of the decrepit room, legs splayed out, leaning on an assault rifle with his left arm resting on the magazine clip. His head was inclined from the camera, the lower jaw mechanically grinding at some gum he had been chewing. He now turned his head to face me.
"Did you know," he asked me, "there are three kind of aces?"
No, I thought.
"Those who seek strength," he lifted his left hand, thumb sticking out, "those who live for pride," he stuck out his index finger, "and those who can read the tide of battle." He concluded his list with the raising of his middle finger.
He paused for a moment to look at his protruded fingers, "Those are the three," he said as he put his hand down, "and him...he was a true ace."
He was a fighter pilot they called 'Solo Wing Pixy'. He was a colleague of the man I seek.
Ten years ago, there was a war that engulfed the world: The Belkan War. And in that war was a pilot who trailed across the sky, and disappeared from history. He was a lone mercenary who inspired both fear and admiration.
He is the man I seek.
And so, with the words of 'Solo Wing', the curtain rises.
"It was a cold and snowy day."