Listen, I'm not going to make excuses for why the chapters are taking place so far apart, in fact I don't even want to mention it. Neither AV nor undercover AV have left any new reviews, but my girl finally got an FF account and has followed, favorited and started reading 私は、キラ/I, Kira! She seems enthusiastic about it, which is something I'm very happy about.

(Luci's POV, 20:18, July 21)

A knock at the door informs all of Q's arrival.

'As we predicted, Kira has reacted to what happened this afternoon. It's strange. Unlike the second Kira, the first hasn't used missiles, or anything similar, to deliver his messages to TTT.'

That is interesting. Could the second Kira be even more capable than the first? Nah, that's a dumb idea. What's weirder is that the missiles used have been identified as those used in the mafia's global transportation system. In a few days, all the mafia's abandoned facilities in Australia are going to be destroyed, so maybe that will confirm suspicions that that's where the second Kira is getting their missiles from.

Q starts up the video on his laptop, and Kira appears as he normally does, although his cape is badly torn and his helmet has several small cracks in it.

'…Attacks confined to myself, I can handle. But what L and the military forces of the United States and Australia have jointly performed was an overwhelming strike on a civilian target, with casualties potentially in the hundreds, if not more. Unfortunately for you, I'm still alive, and I'm not happy. If you want revenge for my victories so far, do it on your own! Don't draw innocent people into it! While I managed to survive, many did not, and I should remind you all that as Kira I strongly prioritize the safety and wellbeing of those who are innocent. As such, I have no choice but to follow through with what I secretly told L earlier this year. Of course, that little message assumed an attempt to assassinate one or more specific suspects, so I'll go easy on you since that's not what you've done here. Specifically, I'll only remove the same number of people that you obliterated just hours ago…'

I'm fucked.

'To clarify, my targets in this retaliatory strike will not include any who are innocent, as that would be immoral and hypocritical, but rather a selected list of the most cold-hearted of L's superiors, allies and various other elitists from the countless deep states and secret societies that are currently leading the war against me.'

I'm fucked.

'And no, I am not bluffing.'

I'm fucked.

'As for the innocent civilian populations of those who have performed this act of war, I must remind you that the elitists' power is derived solely from your obedience. Its wealth is derived solely from your labor. Its strength comes from your strength. Now are you going to take it back from them!? I'm not suggesting any grand gestures of disobedience, merely the first subtle steps in the right path. For example, it is said that the pioneers of a peaceful world are the young men and women who refuse military service…'

I'm fucked.

(Ivan's POV, 17:30, July 21)

The people of Luhansk sure seem cheerful these days. Warm sunshine is reflecting off the white walls and golden domes of the cathedral. In the park, groups of students from the many universities in the area are playing football, or laying on the grass chatting, while in the city, the cafes and bars are full of people making the most of the weekend and the weather. It all seems so peaceful, like it's been so long since the 2015 Minsk ceasefire effectively froze the civil war in a stalemate. Since then, the resistance in Donetsk and Luhansk has become a de facto protectorate of Moscow, known as Novorossiya. An uncertain peace is prevailing, regularly broken by flare-ups along the front line between the NATO-backed Ukrainian military and the resistance. But if all goes to plan, this peace will become permanent.

To many, Russia's foreign policy in Europe appears random, almost chaotic. But in reality, there is a justified pattern to the apparent madness. When Soviet Russia fell down in a flaming explosion at the end of the Cold War, we suffered the greatest territorial loss in our history. And as a result of that we have Russians, people who have been ethnically and linguistically Russian for centuries, finding their homes in territory controlled by non-Russians for the first time since the days of the Tsars. For example, I remember hearing that back in the '20s they called Donbass "the heart of Russia", and now it isn't even part of the damn country anymore. But as the Novorossiyan resistance has shown, the people here won't give up without a fight. After all, what do you do if the ones with the strength don't fight for you? You build your own strength, as they've done here.

In the end, this is the core of Russia's foreign policy in Europe. Everyone knows that it would be both impossible and morally wrong to reclaim all of the former Soviet Union, let alone the Russian Empire, but what we do aim to do is try to save our brothers and sisters who have been exiled into western puppet states. Operation Alexander (which I originally wanted to call "One Big-Ass Mistake for America", or OBAMA for short), first formulated around the time Kira initially made contact with us, is supposed to fulfill all of this in one fell swoop, by liberating all the ethnically and linguistically Russian lands left outside of the federation.

And there's the problem. The six areas Kira listed cover most Russian territory that isn't under our flag, but not all of it. Northern Kazakhstan and a few bits of Latvia are still inhabited primarily by our people, yet they aren't mentioned. And Kira said "any attempted expansion beyond the above will not be tolerated". So, what do we do? On one hand, our position would technically be justified if we went ahead with the full plan. Then again, Assad's government in Syria was on the side of justice too, and just look what happened to them. Although in hindsight, there are two clear reasons why Kira chose to wipe out the Syrian government. First, he would've wanted to end the war as fast as possible, reducing loss of life by as much as possible. Second, he wouldn't want the western elitists to see him as the threat he is so quickly, in fact for a short while they may have even seen him as a potential ally.

Whatever form Operation Alexander takes, what is clear is that Kira has given us a short window of opportunity to do it now. From David Rockefeller to Nathan Warburg, from Paul Volcker to Larry Summers, from Lloyd Blankfein to Ben Shalom, from Charles Koch to George Bush, our enemies' leadership is dropping like flies thanks to this little purge. And in the midst of chaos, there is always opportunity.

(Phil's POV, 07:00, July 22)

'Major Phil D. Stroyer of the USAF, dark-haired and of medium height. A military flyer to the core, with nearly 4000 kills over the years in Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya and Syria. Is all that correct?'

'Yes.' (Is she blind or something?!)

'And after hearing your initial mission objectives, do you have any further questions?'

'No, thanks, I'm happy and good to go. I guess this should be fairly straight-forward. We'll get up to fifteen thousand feet and provide surveillance and reconnaissance overwatch for the American trainers looking after the newly-imported firepower near the front line in Debaltseva. And blast the shit out of any exposed Novorossiyan forces we find.'

'Well, you certainly match the description in your file. It says you have two emotions: Emotionless, and blind with rage.'

As my wingman enters the briefing room, the intelligence officer continues.

'Situation over the past few days has remained pretty quiet. There's been the usual sporadic shelling from both sides, each reacting to the other, but the resistance is mostly laying low after our display of strength down in Sydney. Any problems and you have the Quick Reaction Alert flight on the tarmac at immediate readiness…

Oh, and one more thing. We aren't officially at war with Novorossiya yet, let alone Russia. Please don't try too hard to change that.'

50 minutes later, I'm in one of the two F-16 Fighting Falcons leaving Boryspill AFB, airborne over the flat expanse of Eastern Ukraine.

'Zulu One, this is Apollo flight. Are you in contact with freindlies?'

'Affirmative, Apollo, I've got them covered with my pod.'

'Copy that, Zulu. Slewing my targeting pod up now. Looks pretty quiet, maybe we'll catch some Ruskies off-guard.'

There's certainly something prideful in knowing that if any Novorossiyans try to mess with our guys below, they have a pair of one of America's most potent strike fighters looking for a kill, screaming across the wide blue arc of the Ukrainian sky.

*radio crackling noises*

'Apollo, Apollo. This is Giant Killer, are you receiving me?'

Unusual for Ground Control to call without a reason.

'Affirmative, Giant Killer. I'm reading you five by five.'

'Apollo. Bogey one o'clock, inside five miles. Single contact descending to one four thousand.'

'Copy. Looks like our first catch of the day has arrived.'

Without hesitation I put my aircraft into a steep starboard turn, simultaneously putting my radar and weapons into dogfight mode with a deft flick of my left thumb on the throttle. I vigorously scan the sky through the bubble canopy and suddenly pick up the contact visually: an Ilyushin Il-76, a multi-purpose, four-engine, strategic airlifter, the Russian air force insignia clear to see. And it's heading for central Novorossiya.

'Giant Killer, this is Apollo Two. Tally one. Russian Ilyushin seventy-six, heading east. Do you want me to kill the fucker?'

'Apollo Two, affirmative.'

I slow down and circle the Russian plane, rocking my wings from side to side and as I come up alongside, and I can see the pilot in the cockpit of the large aircraft looking back at me in a faintly-shrouded expression of fear. Meanwhile, as per SOPs – standard operating procedures – wingman is providing cover from above and behind. Just as I'm is about to open fire, the ruskie dives. I follow it down, and the next moment hear an exclamation over the radio.

'Lead, we've been bounced. Four bandits at six o'clock.'

From the corner of my eye I see a flash as a missile streaks toward us across the sky, doubtless a passive infrared K-74M2 – brutally maneuverable due to its advanced-thrust vectoring which makes it almost impossible to escape from, and the primary close-range missile of a Russian Sukhoi T-50 PAK-FA stealth fighter… Stealth fighter! Fuck! That's why my systems didn't see the son of a bitch!

As I fire back, I'm scrambling to absorb all this new information. Just as I accept what's happening, there's a blinding flash and wingman's F-16 vanishes into a thousand pieces at the center of a fireball. That's the problem with risky gestures. Succeed, and you look badass. Fail, and all you do is leave the bloody mess for everyone to clear up. So, the Ilyushin Il-76 was a decoy. Damn ruskies knew we were about to attack, so they set up an ambush. Clever thinking. Now, how do I kill them?

I first roll my aircraft upside down and pull it into a steep dive, buying myself time. As I do so, the blood drains from my head under the G-force and I feel the suit inflate and tighten around my thighs.

…No missile alarms. That maneuver threw them off balance, exactly as planned. Now, they'll be confident. Only me left. They'll assume they can stop me easily.

Out of the dive I begin to climb, pushing the throttle through the afterburner gate and feeling the kick in my back at it lights behind me. As I do so, I see four distinct dots on the horizon. Four of you bastards. No wonder you're so confident. But I'll take at least one of you down with me. After all, once you taste poison, you might as well finish the meal.

As my F-16 streaks across the sky, I continue to analyze the data my aircraft's computers and my eyes are feeding me. It's just like on my Honda Firebird motorcycle; the faster I drive, the slower the world seems to move around me. I sense the Sukhoi T-50s are inside my missile range and by moving my head and looking at each target in turn, I can slew the reticle, the fine-sighting lines on my joint helmet-mounted cueing system. As I put the reticle onto the first Sukhoi, the "lock on" tone sounds in my helmet until, when I reach a crescendo, I release an AIM-9X Sidewinder infrared missile with a solid, steady trigger pull. See how you like this, bitches!

There's a fractional pause, a white streak across the sky and another fireball where, a split-second earlier, there had been a Russian fighter plane… WOHOO! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN' ABOUT BAB-

*BOOM*