Author's Note: Hello readers and the few fans I have! As I am sure many of you have been wondering: Where the hell have I been? Why haven't I updated any of my other stories? What the hell is this short bullcrap I posted?
Well, the answer to the first two is relatively simple: Life. Yes, indeed, I am a human being who deals with real world problems, has a job, and attempts (miserably) to have a social life. So very, very shocking. In any case, without indulging the details of my personal life, there's the answer.
As for the last question... well, how about you just read on?
I ruled the skies and defended my country to the best of my ability. I never took pride in killing my foes, but it was my duty no matter how regrettable. I was the greatest ace of my nation's air force, living strong for not only myself, but my comrades as well. I watched their backs and, in turn, they watched mine. They trusted me, and I trusted them. Together, we fought and suffered for a war we all despised.
Unfortunately, we were members of the most hated military force in the continent of Usea, scorned by all others. To them, we were the fascist pigs, destroying their peaceful way of life. From town to town, the eyes of their peoples looked at my squadron with animosity. No matter; we kept moving forward, for country and ourselves.
After being stationed in San Salvacion, however, everything took an unexpected turn. One after another, each of my companions began to fall to the skills of a new enemy pilot, his aircraft's tail decorated with the symbol of a blue infinity ribbon. The first, and most painful to watch, was Yellow Four.
I had met Four when she was just a foolish youngster with a determination to fly. With that passion inside, I trained her, taught her, and raised her from the ground-up to become one of the finest fighter pilots and my most trusted wingman. Over the years, she had grown in her own way to love me. And without warning, I too had begun to see her for the woman she was. However, by some cruel act of fate, my realization had come too late. By the time I was sure, she had already been lost to a pilot's death, up in the light blue skies. It was painful knowing I could no longer hear her voice - that all I had left was her handkerchief, still scented with the faint smell of perfume.
After her, all the squadron received was a series of defeats under the prowess of this new ace. Even Stonehenge, the meteor destroyer-turned-superweapon by my nation's hands, crumbled to the dirt. This pilot with the blue ribbon eventually led his own comrades to the gates of my country, where we must now fight to the death.
I do not know the outcome of this final dogfight. There is no telling of whether I will live or die, but whichever way this act ends, I will go on til the bitter end. This Mobius One... for some strange reason, I feel a kind of joy having such a skilled pilot at my door step. He took many from my squadron... many friends who will only live on in memory... however, in this war we fight each other not for personal reason, but because somewhere far there sit old men constantly deciding our fates. I cannot take away the fact Yellow Four is no longer here because of his actions, nor that I hold a burning hatred for him. But I indeed, in the end, have an utmost respect for him.
Yellow 13,
Signing off.