Demon Lord

May 28, 1995

1200 hrs

They were the Galm Team, 6th Air Force Unit, 66th Tactical Fighter Squadron. In the beginning, Ustio had lost most of its air force in the early days of the war. In response, they put out a call for mercenaries to fly for them to keep the country in the fight until allied help arrived. They came and succeeded but at great cost. Mercenary pilots only had about a fourteen percent chance of survival during this period. That fourteen percent was now heading straight for the Round Table. The war was swinging in their favor and all the allied pilots knew they could break the back of the dreaded Belkan Air Force with a victory here. Belka had dominated the skies here, but that was about to change.

The only thing that was going through the mind of Soren Lockhart was how many enemies where there, how much cash he'd get for each enemy, and what the battle was like. Everything else was secondary. Even his wingman to a certain extent. If a fat check ment having to sacrifice his buddies, he'd probably do it. 'Well...maybe PJ', he thought once, 'annoying kid.' The entire thing was a sporting affair to him. The enemies were nothing but targets on a board and Lockhart held the darts. The only things that mattered to him were battle, blood and money. Yet his nickname confused everyone. Everyone thought of him as pompous and brutal, and yet the name "Cipher" was not a name you'd give an intimidating ace whose combat tactics resembled that of a wild, drunken back alley fight.

Solo Wing Pixy, or Larry Foulke, was a bit more enigmatic. He was good friends with Cipher despite his attitude towards war. But Pixy was respected just as much as Cipher was, although not hated no where near as much as Cipher. Perhaps it was envy more than disdain. Both of the planes they flew were the excellent F-15s. They were wonderful planes, but in the hands of the right pilots...they were peerless. The mercenaries flew at different altitudes. Galm Team was at about 15,000 feet. They could clearly see the battle even as the magnetic interference began to take hold.

"Galm Two to Galm One. There's the battle up ahead. Man, it's massive."

"This ain't what we saw back in April...that's for DAMN sure. Ah, hell and oh well. More action for us." Galm One said.

"Message from operations HQ. Forty percent of allied air forces have been lost." the AWACS Eagle Eye said in their craft high above the action.

"Roger. Time to dive into the fireworks!" said Pixy.

Both aircraft turned upside down and flew right into the Maelstrom. For Galm Two it was mostly about the mission and getting it done. For Galm One, it was all about what he could destroy. He looked on the enemies with glee. He was a bit annoyed he was having to pull the allied forces out of the fire, but the end result would be the same: plenty of credits and bragging rights.

It was so sudden. Jan had sliced his way through several enemy formations and had worked his team into the maelstrom of enemy activity. Michael was scanning around for enemy threats as any good wingman would. Suddenly, he saw two fighters diving right down on them.

"12:00! Two bandits coming in fast!"

Jan was caught of guard and he looked up at the incoming enemy. It was him.

Michael broke off and climbed straight up to engage the enemies. Loren followed as well. An enemy was flying straight for him and he didn't even notice until it was nearly too late. He moved to climb to battle. But he didn't see anyone except two planes leaving that particular area. One of them had a single red wing.

"Wespe One, Wispe Two respond!"

There was nothing but silence.

"Wespe One, Wispe Two respond!"

Then he looked below him...and saw two smoking trails falling towards the ground. It couldn't have been them, Jan thought. However, their signatures were not on the radar. There was no response from them. In the blink of an eye, what had once been a close knit, brotherly combat unit was no more. Only sadness filled the mind of Jan now. Then suddenly, anger. He only had one desire: to wipe the memory the mercenary dream team from the Round Table forever...

Present Day

The pain of losing someone was obvious to anyone. But Margaret had no idea how suddenly had been. She had no concept of air to air combat. She had no idea how quickly everything can change in a dogfight. She didn't know what a slow-speed rolling scissors was, a high-vertical yo-yo, or even an S-turn was.

"In air combat, it's not like on the ground where you can get shot and maybe die later. It's in an instant. Planes moving at 300, 400, 600, maybe even 1000 miles per hour...one mistake and you're dead. No one who hasn't flew in combat can really appreciate that."

"I'm sorry...I don't know what-Is there anything I can do?"

"I've been dealing with it for so long. I can't really go back to the place they were killed, I'll explain why later. But the only thing I could do after they were gone was to hunt down the enemies. But when I started, I noticed that our allies were shaken. The radio chatter was insane. All the inexperienced pilots were running scared at the mere sight of these guys. The veterans tried to keep them in formation but for the most part a lot of pilots were scared away...and for good reason. At that point, everyone must have felt the war was hopeless. The veterans couldn't win due to simple numbers, and the rookies gave up upon sight of this terrifying mercenary. Hell, it wasn't just mercenaries they were afraid of.

The Revolutionary

May 28, 1995

1205 hrs

They were the Wizard team; members of the 8th Air Division, 32nd Tactical Fighter Squadron. They had come from Osea to help liberate Ustio from Belka. But one had to wonder what Osea's real motives where. Most of their top forces had been sent to Ustio rather than sent to help drive the Belkans out of the Great Lakes region. Joshua Bristow, the squadron's captain, had seen it all coming from a mile away. In some respects, he viewed all the soldiers, Belkan or Allied, as pawns in a political game. A political game that was costing many lives. He only wished to destroy the government of Belka as Belka was nothing without its leaders. But this was no mere house of cards. The Belkans were highly patriotic, as any good soldier or airmen would be, and fought to defend every inch of land they could. But what caused the war? The war was fought over borders; it was this very Round Table that started it all. It was a place he'd knew all too well. So if he could get rid of the borders...

However, that thought had to wait. His first priority was to survive and keep his men alive. But they were dying too. He'd come into the Round Table with 32 fighters. He was down to 20.

However, now that Pixy and Cipher had arrived, the Belkans began to get nervous. Bristow knew who the experienced pilots and the peerless aces were. They held their ground. Then again, the aces had unusual paint schemes. Bristow saw no need for such useless things. However, the enemy was now acting confused and were generally demoralized. It was the perfect time to capitalize on this.

"Wizard One to all planes. The enemy has broken formation. Separate and destroy them."

At first, there was little need for either Pixy or Cipher to shoot. Many of the fearful rookies had taken off only to be chased by them relentlessly. They'd heard the stories. They'd defeated Rot Team, the most popular aces in Belka. They'd beaten Gelb. They'd destroyed the Excalibur. They were the bane of the Belkan Air Force now.

"They just came in and flew out. Can't they fight with more discipline?" one of the Wizard teams pilots said.

Palmer, Bristow's subordinate, was on the other side of B7R. Bristow felt that Palmer and Cipher were alike in many respects. Both were fearless and uncontrollable in battle. But Palmer was no mercenary. Pixy was different. Cipher was a man of incalculable rage and callousness. But Pixy had more class and was generally more respectable. He'd spoken to him on several occasions. As he saw Pixy engage and destroy an enemy plane, no doubt an ace, he keyed the mic.

"Larry, can you hear me?"

"Well, well, well, look who it is...It looks like you've still got the touch."

"Everything's happening just as you thought." Bristow continued. He knew Pixy well and he could probably make a wonderful asset in the new war he was planning to fight, "It's about time we got out of this dead-end job."

"Not just yet." said Pixy.

Bristow was not surprised. Pixy never really rushed into major decisions. He figured that all he'd need was just a little more convincing...

to be continued...

Present Day

"The fighting began to reach a crescendo, then suddenly...everyone began to retreat. I was listening onto the open channels. I was flying all over the place trying to find him. Then I heard something unusual. Someone on the allied side began to refer to him as a 'demon'. And that's where the name 'Demon Lord' came from."

"Wow...scary stuff." Jan said in shock.

Jan looked away from his wife and stared into the darkness.

"What is it?"

"Funny you should mention that. The funny thing was that in the grand scope of things, that this Ustio mercenary wasn't the scariest thing on the battlefield at that time."

"Really? You've been going on about how this man killed your brothers...and he wasn't the main problem?"

"It's not that...what happened next was more like exacerbating the problem. We were in desperate need of reinforcements. But the reinforcements we got...well...they weren't really there to help us."

"What? Who were they?"

"It's difficult to describe. Let me put it to this way. You work for that store's management right? So imagine that everyday, you saw men with black suits just walking around looking at everyone and occasionally asking you somewhat rude questions. Then, one day you decided to take a half day off. You walk out the door and eight of the black suit guys pull out guns and mow you down?"

Margaret gave Jan a bewildered look.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she said.

"There was this mysterious squadron that often patrolled around the border areas or sent on secret missions. They called themselves Schwarze. We called them Vultures. It didn't matter if you were friend or foe; everyone was afraid of them. They were the only members of our air force that had the permission to engage enemy and friendly forces unconditionally. Their leader was, strangely enough from what I've heard, a Yuke. Their reputation at the Round Table was about as much my base commander's. I imagine the allied pilots there had some knowledge around their mythos. Their planes were painted solid black with blood red trims on their wings and tails; they just looked evil. And Schwarze just had to show up at the most inopportune time..."

The Writing on the Wall

May 28, 1995

1215 hrs

Cipher was having a field day. In fact, he'd never had this much fun in his life. The enemy was running scared and the entire battle was like a duck shoot to him. He was almost letting the battle get away from him as he kept trying to decide who to chase down next.

"The Round Table is nothing special. Stand back and get a good eyeful of this flying!" said PJ.

"That's because they're all running from Cipher." said Pixy.

Cipher and Pixy had downed ten enemies by now, but Jan was still aggressively pursuing them. However every time he got close to him, another allied plane, emboldened by the success of the "mercenary dream team", moved in to pick up what he must have thought would have been an easy kill. Pixy couldn't understand why the Belkans were still defending this place so fiercly. Any fool could read the writing on the wall. But they still kept on. Did the B7R really mean so much to them? It was nothing more than mountains and desert.

"Get out of the way!"

Jan could see several fighters moving for him. Two closed from up high at his twelve o'clock. Jan fired a single missile that was actually meant for Cipher, but the IR tracking ended up locking onto the interfering craft and shattering it into a million fiery pieces. But the battle was still hanging in the balance, aircraft were being shot down or fleeing, and Jan only had two missiles left. Bristow felt confident at this point. The battle was finally going well and it seemed that it would only be a matter of time before this mess was came to an end.

"Wizard One to all units. Belka's days are over. Let's wrap this up." said Bristow.

Jan didn't hear these words but he would have been hard-pressed to believe Bristow's words if he heard it. But things were certainly looking that way...

"We still have no reinforcements! What is High Command doing!" one pilot said.

The Belkans were on the verge of defeat. If no reinforcements came, they would have to do the unthinkable...abandon the Round Table. Jan and several of the remaining experienced pilots began to gather who was left to make one last attack at the "Demon Lord. They hoped one of the other master aces would come, like Schnee, to assist. What came instead was the last thing they needed.

Vultures

They were the Schwarze team; they were the 13th Night Fighter Air Division, 6th Tactical Fighter Squadron. They had chased him all this way. He was good, very good, thought Schwarze leader. Any normal person would consider it a shame to have to eliminate such a skilled and valued officer had they been in Domnic Zubov's position. But Zubov was no normal person. He cared little about this legendary...Huckebein. There was only the target and it didn't matter who it was. It didn't even matter if they were deserters or not. If the order came down, that pilot was going down...it was a simple concept. There were no illusions about what was going on. But he couldn't run forever. The only thing in front of him was the infamous Round Table; how well he knew it.

His wingman had formed up to being an attack run. As soon as they formed up, they would chase after the enemy proper. But Huckebein had gotten a hell of a head start. Zubov wanted to kill him before he entered the Round Table.

"Schwarze Leader to all units. The escaping craft is heading this way. Let's finish this little chase."

"Roger...wait...there's additional targets out there. Confirmed priority one targets." one of the Schwarze pilots said.

"Where?" Zubov asked.

"They're in the center. Huckebein just passed them."

As that very pilot passed by Cipher, he was incredulous that the enemy didn't even try to shoot him down. However, now that meant another free target. He still had plenty of ammo between Pixy and himself. He felt confident enough to go back into harm's way. But he didn't have to wait long...

Just as the annoying PJ pulled up beside his craft, there were new targets on the radar. There was no immediate concern as by now, most of the enemies were falling back.

"Hah! We did it." Pixy said pulling his own aircraft alongside Cipher's own. PJ had broke off, then suddenly pulled back into the pair.

"Another one's coming!" PJ said.

"Looks they're making one last desperate attempt to shoot us down. How pathetic." Cipher said.

But Pixy was not so optimistic. He suddenly realized what these planes were, even as Cipher did not. He had banked his plane and saw eight silhouettes in the distance.

"That plane...is that the Vulture!" said Pixy.

"The Vulture? Who the heck is that?" asked PJ.

"Just stick around and you'll find out...or better yet, go up to them and shake their hands. They sound like very hospitable people." Cipher said in his most scathing sarcasm.

PJ brushed off the sarcasm. Jan saw the approaching squadron too. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Oh no! What the hell are they doing here!" one pilot said.

Zubov turned into the enemy, but had lost track of his original target. But there "he" was. Huckebein couldn't escape into allied hands so easily. Zubov decided to shake thing up a little. For Cipher, whoever this Vulture was, he was unwisely communicating on an open channel. He'd heard rumors about the Belkans having squadrons that could shoot down any and all planes on a single order. It seemed he might actually have a challenge after all. He turned his plane into the approaching enemies with Pixy in tow.

"There's an annoying fly in the enemy. All right, change of plans. We'll deal with the escaped plane later. He's not going anywhere fast."

Schwarze began their usual wide formation to close like a vice around the target. Most of the Belkans there knew that this newly crowned "Demon Lord" was about to be liquidated. However, they themselves knew all too well that they could be next. Had it been anyone else, no one would have been concerned. It was clear Schwarze was not here to help them. Pixy put it perfectly.

"Guess they've come to pick on the dead again." he said.

Both groups began to fly towards each other in a deadly game of chicken.

"There they are. The mercenary dream team." Zubov said.

"Let's go hunt them down!" said his backseater.

Jan turned into the enemy. He figured if he could jump into the fight, he'd could eliminate the "Demon Lord" with ease. But he was deeply angry for an additional reason.

"Of all the squadrons they could have sent...they send them? This is the worst kind of support we could hope for!" said Jan.

Cipher maneuvered his plane past the enemy as they flew to surround them. He quickly turned to access the situation. They were flying what he believed to be Mig-31s, but he knew for a fact they were a menacing black. As soon as Cipher turned, there was nothing but an IR alert. Ciper simply pulled up the airplane and released several flares they passed harmlessly below him...but those were close. Cipher went into a steep dive and fired his guns at the first target he saw; one of the black planes was flying on a collision course with Cipher. It didn't take much to cause the enemy plane to fly out of control and plummet to the ground. Pixy had begun his own set of defensive maneuvers. He could clearly see the enemy plane falling. Zubov had seen it too, but he was not concerned. He still had the numbers advantage by far. Suddenly, the group of Schwarze planes closed back in to surround Cipher and Pixy. They all fired a large group of missiles at the pair. Even though they had shaken them off, Zubov intended to use the show of force to its fullest.

"Feeling a bit scared? Afraid? That's just death lurking around." he said.

But just as he said that, Pixy had generated a good angle on one of the enemy planes. He turned hard into the other plane, G-forces ripping at him. He finally got into position and fired a missile at close range, disintegrating his target. Zubov still wasn't concerned, as his ironic contempt of the 'Demon Lord' stated.

"Those mercenaries smell of money and death. They're nothing but vultures. Seeking profit through the blood of others." Zubov said.

After this display, Jan continued to look at the unfolding battle. He'd expected one or two planes to go down. He figured that the Vulture, as shifty and vicious as he was, would have the situation in hand. However, the other planes were already beginning to jump into the action. Wizard 1 was not blind to this. He'd seen those enemy planes take out many planes at once. However, Bristow was loathe to help Cipher out directly, as he was the complete antithesis of everything Bristow represented. Bristow decided to keep his men out of the main fight. If the Vulture and the Demon Lord wanted to fight it out like the wolves they were, it was their business.

Jan decided that now was the time. He pointed his nose at the swirling dogfight and flew right into it. Several of the remaining Vultures flying around and past Jan. He went into a steeper angle and saw the mercenary team right below him. He'd flown into a perfect position. But suddenly, there was a missile alert!

"What the...?"

On instinct, Jan had loosed his countermeasures then broke off from the fight. He'd expected it to be an allied plane; however, it was not. To Jan's exacerbated horror, it wasn't even a member of the Schwarze team. It was a group of his own allies! There were several bullets that hit his airplane.

"What are you doing? Cease fire immediately!"

"Get out of the way! This is my kill!"

"Danton? Is that you!"

"This guy wiped my squadron out! I'm taking this guy out, with or without your help!"

"Forget that! I want my shot at the Demon Lord. We outnumber this guy, he's got no where to go. Us in Bussard Squadron will have the honor of shooting him down!"

"What the hell is going on here? Is everyone fighting over who gets to shoot these guys down!"

Suddenly, another Mig-31 sliced right above Jan. The confusion was intense. He'd lost sight of his enemy. The sudden squadron rivalry was nothing short of bizarre. However, he was having trouble keeping his plane level. Suddenly, he looked above and saw Solo Wing closing in another Schwarze fighter. The dream team was making it look easy. Zubov was now beginning to be concerned. He'd lost a third aircraft and Huckebein was now off the radar.

"I've lost sight of our primary target! Where is he?" Zubov said angrily.

"You think he was shot down?"

Cipher realized that this squadron was giving him hell and thus the challenge he craved for so long. Schwarze was just as relentless as he was. But he was quickly turning the tide. He checked his fuel and his remaining ammo as he continued to dodge enemy attacks. However, he was frustrated at the other Belkan planes interfering in his fight. He figured he could take on Schwarze if he kept his flying unpredictable as he usually did. He had told Pixy to handle all the outside threats. He'd quickly learned that the Mig-31 could not outmaneuver his plane. He'd waited until they formed up for an attack then simply dove and turn. It was a simple high-speed yo-yo. He launched three of his four remaining missiles at the targets. Everyone began to break off, but for two planes it was impossible to run. Cipher was incredulous at the lack of countermeasures the enemy planes had. He guessed an enemy squadron that could shoot down friendly planes would be too concerned about such things. Cipher now turned his attention to the rather annoying interlopers on the outside of the area.

This was the last thing Jan needed. He was having difficulty controlling his plane from the friendly fire incident. It was only now that he realized that the proud air force he'd fought in for years was falling apart at the seams. It was collapsing right in front of him, and it was only now that he could pull himself away from the blind optimism he once had and do the only thing he could do: survive. The irony was obvious. Everyone had become vultures now; greedy, scavenging monsters only concerned with survival. It seemed the Round Table itself had changed. There was no thought of one day seeing the end of the war, there was no concept of nuclear weapons, of meeting a woman in Sudentor, having children, getting a decent living, making friends, and escaping from the horrid memory of days like this day. The only thing he could do was survive; and such a thing was almost impossible when an amoral, avaricious mercenary trains his gunsights on the very person who's sole goal was to survive.