Combat. Life and death; bravery and cowardice; pain and ecstasy. Some dread the idea of killing and dying. Some desire it. It flows through their veins, feeding them, nurturing them. They live for it.
And the rest? They love and hate it, desire and fear it. It is their light and darkness, their heaven and hell. It destroys them, yet they crave more. The addiction, the rush, the need for one more victory, one more kill. It moves them. It drives them. It feeds them. While most either love it or hate it, some find an unhealthy balance.
"Fox!"
The arwing dropped out of the sky, leaving behind a trail of burning fuel and smoke. The pilot, the legendary Fox Mccloud, struggled to maintain consciousness as the blood flowed out his wounded leg. With the arwing losing power fast, Fox could do nothing but hope that there would be enough power left to protect him from the impact.
Boom.
The arwing had barely done its job. His left arm and legs were broken, his body was impaled by several rods, and he was losing consciousness fast, but he was still alive. Within seconds, paramedics that had just previously taken care of civilian casualties rushed to the crash site and pulled him out. The last thing he saw before passing out were three arwings making a quick landing after finishing the last of the enemy fighters.