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World of Gods Short Story One: Unclear Skies
Part One
Unclear Skies is a short story about a son of Zeus and his last recon mission during World War II. This will be the first, in a small collection of short stories placed in the Percy Jackson Universe.
Skylar Ronalds remembered when his life was carefree. He remembered the times when his family was together. Those times were so long ago, back in a time when the world was gray, yet the future looked bright.
Oh how he often he found himself contemplative of the past.
Such a wonderful past.
In the distance, a sharp shriek screeched through the thick concrete walls from outside; sirens signaling the beginning of what would end up being the end. The end of a gods-forsaken feud that had already claimed millions in pointless fighting.
Skylar rose from his small bunk and snatched up his pilot's cap from under his pillow. He laid down his flimsy copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and took one long look around the tight fitting quarters, that he had graciously called home for the past eight months. He hoped he would live to finish the book.
He prayed in the name of his father, that he would make out this mission alive.
The missions over Europe had gotten more and more dangerous by the day. Every flight he took could end up being his last.
Skylar sighed to himself, remembering that single moment only five years ago, that had caused all this bloodshed.
He remembered that dreadful night atop Mt Olympus. That dreadful meeting that had brought upon this world so much bloodshed. If his actions had been even the slightest, maybe all of this would've never happened.
He shook at himself. Luckily, he was alone in the quarters – else his peers would think he was having a fit.
'I shouldn't stay caught up upon the past. Nothing can be changed,' he thought to himself, before tidying his little place and hurrying out.
His lieutenants would be furious with him again, no matter what his parentage was, if he was late for this mission.
This was the mission that they had been preparing for weeks for.
Skylar patted down his clothing, straightening his uniform as he shuffled out the door of Bunker 1B, and raced down, skidding his way towards the runways. There, already dozens of his fellow pilots were awaiting orders near the lines of Meteors Jets that were being prepped up for one grand mission.
Despite the heat of the summer, Skylar shivered in his suit, weary of the next day or two that would follow.
It was early morning out, and beyond the airfields – the grand white cliffs of Dover fell down into a violent mash of waves that made up the English Channel.
Thick wafts of fog covered the bay with a dark gray blanket.
Throughout the rocky coastline, thousands of soldiers were milling on the beaches – loading up upon hundreds of vessels.
Skylar looked towards the fog covered bay, wondering how many boats and men were already making their journey towards Normandy.
"Ronalds, Skylar!" yelled the lieutenant who stood atop a tall ladder, reading off a mess of papers which ruffled in the blistering winds.
"Here!" Skylar yelled, as he made it towards the back of the crowd in the hurry.
"Rondle, Mark?" Skylar stopped listening after that. There was no point listening to the roll call after his name was called.
He glanced at the lines of jet fighters that would be in the air soon enough.
Skylar stared at the windy cool skies that whispered despite the incoming warmth of the summer sun.
The sirens that had blistered the air lowered in strength, and was easily replaced by the hundreds of impatient voice from down by the bay.
Nicknamed Operation Neptune, since the sons of Poseidon had organized the feat, thousands of armed men would find themselves on Norman beaches by late afternoon.
And the bloodshed will renew with fierce vigor.
"Attention, men!" the lieutenant called out, regaining Skylar's attention. "Men. Our time, has come. You've prepared yourselves in so many ways, your fathers and their fathers before them would be proud."
There was a cheer.
"We've went over this drill a million times. We've toiled for this. We've worked our best, and the world deserves no less. Our French brethren, our Russian cousin, they – they are in our need. For near four years, we've allowed the German menace choke down upon the lands and people of Europe. But today – today my brothers, we stand against the Reich! We stand against Hitler! We stand for the freedom and the rights of the world! We stand as the hope and light of the free world. We stand to take back the mainland! For today, today is the day we have all been preparing for. From our first days on this world to this very moment now, everything has led up to this."
The lieutenant scowled, looking at each pilot, including Skylar right in the eyes.
"Men! If you are still ill prepared. If this journey – if these plans is out of your ability. If you even have the slightest second thought, the slightest hesitation – I asked you to turn back now. I will tell you, make way back to your bunks – gather you little precious belongings and skedaddle back to where you call your home. Because this mission requires that every single pilot – every single soldier, to be 110%. The people of Europe deserve no less, than absolute bravery. For we, will lead the way into the fight for France! The fight for the World!"
Not a single person walked, and with an almost spontaneous yell, everyone jumped in celebration.
Today was the beginning of the end.
If only they knew they were cheering happily – for their graves.
