"Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name."

"More fighters inbound! They're flattening everything!"

"What kind of sick bastards would be cruel enough to inflict such death?"

A pair of old, weathered hands wrapped themselves around a Rosary. "Thy kingdom come; They will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

The ground shook, and dust floated gently down from the ceiling. They intended to bring the whole place down- not just the castle but the city itself. However, the conventional fighters that sped out from the tunnels and shot up into the sky were determined to keep that from happening. They would sooner give their lives- die in the most horrific deaths a mind could imagine- than allow these innocent men and women to suffer that same fate.

"Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen"

The older man set the Rosary into one of the pockets in his flight suit and slid his helmet over his head. Once more, the ground shook, and he knew it was now or never. He turned around and started walking toward an old Mirage 2000-5. It was painted in Have Glass coating and bore the markings of a country that, like all the others on Usea, had been cast aside by corporations. Moving slowly but deliberately, the older man climbed up into the cockpit and began starting the plane. Gradually, its engines whirred to life, and he made a few last adjustments.

"This is Lazarus, ready for takeoff," he reported before fastening the oxygen mask over his mouth and sliding his helmet's visor over his eyes.

"You're clear; hurry up and go!" ATC ordered. "We're getting destroyed out there. We need everyone we can get our hands on."

Lazarus dismissed the man's trepidation. Ever since they had picked up the inbound enemy aircraft set on their destruction, the others asked why his voice didn't falter. They questioned his steady resolve and stoic heart. They failed to get any answer out of him, for he kept it to himself. The Lord was watching over him- over all of them. He entrusted these pilots to carry out his will- to serve as the shepherds in his stead and watch over the flock. For this reason, he didn't worry because he was already certain they would succeed.

He stopped the plane at the mouth of the tunnel- the portal leading into the inferno. Once more, his gaze fell toward the hangar- empty of fighters now that Lazarus was moments away from taking off- resting under this once peaceful place, and he sighed. The evil inherent in all men had brought war to their doorstep once more, and many were going to suffer because of it. However, the interlopers laying waste to this place would soon learn that these people had an indomitable will, and neither death nor the flames of hell would deter them from defending their home with all their might.

As his eyes rested once more on the runway in front of him, Lazarus slid his throttle forward, and the Mirage went forth. It picked up more and more speed until Lazarus lifted it off the ground and pulled it out of the tunnel and into the chaotic skies above Shilage Castle. The setting sun eclipsed the highest tower and cast its warm glow over the valley- as if it meant to reassure its inhabitants that they would, indeed, be alright.

"Lazarus has taken off," he reported. "Engaging bandits."

He thumbed the weapon switch button and went right for his 4AAMs. A volley flew off his wings within seconds, and the missiles curved toward a flight of MiG-33s. By the time all four had gone down, he was deep into a high-G turn toward a Super Flanker, waiting for a solid tone to send off a pair of STDMs before moving onto the next target.

"All Voslagian fighters, be advised; enemy reinforcements inbound from bearing 150," ATC warned. "Intercept them before they can regroup with the forces currently attacking."

"Leave them to me," Lazarus assured him, already turning toward the new contacts on his radar. "Those fighters are as good as gone."

"Careful now, old man," one of the other pilots said as he brought his MiG-29 into formation on Lazarus's wing. "Wouldn't want you to throw out your back up here taking on all those fighters by your lonesome. Claws, let's give 'im a hand."

"And here I was thinking about what I'd be doing as my good deed for the day," the pilot of an F-16C said as he joined the other two planes. "Thanks for the advice, Pusher."

Lazarus didn't respond to the other pilots. He had seen more than his fair share of hotshot, know-it-all pilots in his day, and these two were hardly the first to take a crack at his age. Still, he didn't envy the journey they had before them. The path forward was fraught with uncertainty, but one thing Lazarus counted on was unnecessary suffering. It was, after all, the nature of war, and these two were going to find that out the hard way, which was, in his eyes, the only way.

"Alright, stand by you three. I'm trying to get us a little more organized as we go. Lazarus, Pusher, and Claws, your callsign is Apostle Team, " ATC told them. "Lazarus, you've got the lead; Pusher and Claws, you're two and three, respectively. Verify and read back."

Lazarus wrapped his hand tightly around his control stick. It had been a long time since he had flown at all, let alone in a squadron. "Apostle 1, roger."

"Apostle 2, understood," Pusher sounded off.

"Apostle 3, wilco," Claws said, rounding them off.

"Tower copies all, Apostle Team," ATC responded. "Now intercept those reinforcements before they can regroup."

Lazarus nodded, despite everyone's inability to see it. "Roger that; Apostle 1, engaging." He lit the burners on his plane and shot forward toward the group of enemy aircraft with Pusher and Claws right at his heels.

'This is it,' he thought to himself as the three pilots got closer and closer to their targets. 'This is the first true war we've seen in over a decade.' He looked over both his shoulders to glance briefly at his new wingmen. Those poor men had no idea what was in store for them. He silently prayed to God, asking for him to protect them through whatever horrors this war would no doubt inflict.

"Hey, uhh, aren't those General Resource aircraft?" Claws asked as the other aircraft began to appear on their radars. "There sure is a lot of them, too. I dunno if we'll be able to take them all on our own."

ATC was quiet for a few seconds. Finally, with only ten klicks between Apostle and the bogies, he spoke. "Damn, you're right. Try to make contact with them. Could be they're here to help."

Lazarus cleared his throat before broadcasting over an open channel. "Attention to General Resource fighters approaching from bearing 150, you are approaching an active combat zone. Please state your intentions," he ordered, keeping his voice firm and direct. "If you are here to dispel the active threat, please say so. Otherwise, change your heading and leave this airspace immediately. This is your only warning."

More and more General Resource aircraft appeared on their radars as they got closer. There was no response to the message Lazarus sent to them. The two groups of planes got closer and closer to each other. The three Voslagian pilots already knew what was about to happen, and their suspicions were confirmed a few moments later. As soon as the large group of aircraft was in range, they began locking onto the three planes and firing. The fight was on.

"Agh, god dammit!" Pusher groaned as he took evasive action. "Why'd they have to be hostile? Is a little help in keeping us from getting flattened really too much to ask?"

"Why are they shooting at us anyway?" Claws asked, dumping flares as he evaded several missiles at once. "Why are they even here?"

"Don't worry about that right now," Lazarus told them. "We can worry about the who, what, and why once we're back on the ground. When you're in the air, focus on staying alive."

He let out a salvo of 4AAMs and turned with the group of bandits as if he meant to join their formation. Two of his missiles rammed themselves into a pair of Raptor IIs while the others missed entirely. As the General Resource planes began to break off, he got a short burst from his gun off on a Sakerfalcon before it could get away, causing it to lose control and spiral into the ground. Before long, however, the mass of fighter jets had come back around, and the fight truly began.

"There's too many for just us to deal with," Claws said, grunting under the weight of the g-forces as he pulled straight up toward an F-35E. "Tower, we need reinforcements!"

"Negative, Apostle 3. Everyone else is busy fending off the attackers at the castle. You'll have to hold them off on your own."

Pusher scoffed. "Psh, yeah. Easier said than done," he grumbled.

"Just stay focused. We can do this," Lazarus assured them. He didn't want them to lose their cool in the middle of the fight. He'd already seen too many good men go down to that.

He turned hard to the left, going head-to-head with an F/A-18I. The other plane had a greater range than his own, so they got the first shot off, but Lazarus didn't go on the defensive just yet. Instead, he stayed the course, letting the incoming missile get closer and closer until, finally, he sent the Hornet a missile of his own and inverted his plane before yanking back on the stick. The radar warning in Lazarus's cockpit beeped faster and faster. He looked over his shoulder, trying to gauge how much time he had before ultimately deciding that he didn't have enough. His fingers moved as if they were acting for their own self-preservation, holding down the button for chaff and flares as he turned back around to see a pair of Hornets had joined the first one. The moment he had a solid lock, three 4AAMs flew off the pylons and went crashing into them.

Lazarus started putting some distance between himself and the gradually thinning mass of enemy aircraft. He kept his eyes on a nearby group of Raptor IIs, watching the distance between himself and them as he flew. Not yet, just a little more, almost there. The moment he was out of range, he switched to his 4AAMs once more and made a tight loop back around to face the F-22Cs. He shot forward as he pushed the afterburner to full throttle, and a salvo of missiles spewed out as soon as he could lock on. The four missiles peeled away from one another as they got closer and closer to their targets, turning as hard as they could to match the Raptor IIs, but the hostile aircraft pulled up and around, gracefully evading without so much as a single countermeasure. Lazarus was about to get in close with STDMs, but then he realized something; the enemy planes were running away- all of them.

The other pilots began cheering over the radio. "Holy shit, did we actually just do that?" one of them asked, still sounding as mortified as he did when the air raid sirens first began. "T- There were so many of them. Why did they run?"

"Who cares? We won!" Pusher exclaimed. "Hell, you guys should've really seen the old man up here. He really knows how to kick ass despite all the years he's got under his belt."

"It's like the old saying goes, fear an old man in a profession where men die young," another pilot reminded him. "Lazarus is probably the best out of all of us."

"Oh, trust me, there's no debating that," Claws interjected. "I mean, the guy took out like ten planes. It was incredible."

Lazarus didn't join in on the celebrations, for he was too deep in thought while watching all the planes treating in the same direction. Where were they going? Why did they give up when they still had the numbers advantage by at least double? The way Lazarus saw it, the order of a retreat meant one of two things; either the commander was concerned for the lives of their pilots, or the battle wasn't strategically advantageous. The old pilot's eyes shifted back toward Shilage Castle, where pillars of smoke held up the sky. The retreat definitely didn't come from a concern for their pilots. Anyone cruel enough to order such horrific destruction wouldn't care for the lives of their pilots. They would be too consumed by evil to think about anything other than the atrocities they felt compelled the commit. It was all a mystery, for sure, and as Lazarus followed the others to come in for a landing, he couldn't help but think and wonder about just who it was that they were up against.

"We've gotta take the fight to them!" Pusher insisted, jumping to his feet and looking around at the others in the briefing room to see who was with him. "We can't just let this stand. There are innocent men, women, and children that are dead because of them!"

"And where would we go? How would we fight them?" one of the other pilots asked. "You heard the broadcasts; nobody has the first damn clue what's going on."

"Which is why we should be taking this chance to restore our sovereignty," Claws proposed. "The corporations are just as confused and weakened as we are- if not more. We have a chance to make some real change for the better. We should take it."

"That's enough, everyone."

The room went dead silent as the pilots all spun around to look at the one who spoke. Standing in the doorframe was an older man- a few years older than Lazarus- with a head of thick, graying hair; it was General Perry, one of the best pilots to ever fly out of Voslage. He took measured steps up to the front of the room before turning around to face the pilots in front of him.

"We're all under a lot of pressure; I get that. Nobody was expecting an attack like this, and how could we have?" Perry said to everyone, meeting each pilot's gaze with a soft, reassuring expression. "What's important is that we're alive. We lost people, yes, and we will keep their memories alive. You can mark my words on that. And the best way to honor them is to ensure they didn't die for a losing battle. Now let's decide what our next course of action should be."

Everyone went back and forth as they shared their ideas on what to do. For the most part, everyone fell into one of two camps: go on the offensive or wait and prepare. It was a fairly even split between both, with a sizeable chunk of people adding the suggestion that they should fight to establish their sovereignty from the corps- this was neither accepted nor rejected. In the end, though, they were talking in circles. There was no clear consensus.

Finally, General Perry looked over to Lazarus, who had been silent the whole time, hoping he might break the stalemate. "Noah? What do you think?"

Noah put his hand up to his chin, retreating deep into his mind to think. This threat, whatever or whoever it was, didn't have any qualms with butchering innocents. They were evil in the most explicit sense of the word. On the one hand, it was their duty to stop them. The heinous crimes this entity had committed would not be allowed to go unpunished. On the other hand, though, the mystery of their enemy could lead to many pilots dying unnecessarily. Either way, people were going to die. He had to weigh his options carefully.

Finally, he took air in through his nose and pushed it out through his mouth. "Innocent people are dying right now. It's our duty to stop that, so that's precisely what we should do."