Act 1, Chapter 9: Bittersweet Memories

1827 hours, 18 July 2004…

Right as I tidied up my desks and my bedroom for the mission preparations, I accidentally stumbled upon a bizarre photo that still lingered in my desk. Normally, I would’ve just thrown it in the bin. But… something was different about this certain photo that I should not ignore in the slightest.

Right as I picked it up and took a closer look, I witnessed 2 middle-aged couples with a young boy in the middle, standing in the front of a rural house.

I have no idea on who the hell are they in the first place. But… the more I stare it, the more this mere picture give me a sense of dreadfulness. As if, some unholy spirits have accursed this picture that will tore upon my very sanity into the point of no return.

“Yo, dude! Have you prepared yourself?”

Unfortunately, a voice suddenly interrupted my contemplation like a sonic boom. And as I turned my head around, it was Beck himself, who was standing beside the door and glanced with confusion.

“Ray? Dude? What’s wrong?”

Afraid that it might be our time for sortie, I hastily tidied up my desk and put my important belongings into the bag. Whilst secretly hiding my old photo in my pocket.

“Oh… What’s wrong? Is it sortie time?”

“Not yet. But I’ve just looked around at the control room, which was monitoring our squadron’s missions in real time.”

“How does it go?”

He then leaned on the wall near my desk as he gestured with his hand in enthusiasm like never before.

“As usual, they are always right on the money! Like, those Pegasi guys are always doing kickass maneuvers against those Valusian Guv-29s! Lupus-4 got a hole in his G-10’s left wing, but he’s still flying like a madman!”

His face suddenly went serious as he glanced at me with a subtle suspicion.

“But on a serious note, what the hell are you doing in here? What are you looking at?”

But without any warning, he approached me as he reached his hands into my right leg pocket as I tried my best to resist it.

“None of your—“

“Hey! HEY!”

Unfortunately, he let out a subtle martial arts movement as he snatched my right pocket and revealed my vital secret that should never be leaked.

Just as he glanced at my old photo, I then give him a subtle warning by sternly pointing at his face.

“I told you it’s not that important!”

“Oh, come on! We are close friends! There’s no way that I will leak your secret like an idiot!”

Right after his brief elaboration, I couldn’t help but concede and keep tidying up my desk. All of a sudden, Beck was paying careful attention to my old photo as he mumbled with curiosity.

“Hmm… Wait… is he? Clarence Yorkshire?! The 1st Lieutenant and the leader of Ifrit Squadron?!”

Clarence Yorkshire… a name that I wish I could erase from my memory. Not out of hatred, but out of shame. After a brief silence, I then give him a suspicious glance.

“What do you wish to seek from that?!”

But he then put down my old picture on the desk as he elaborated with his usual enthusiasm.

“What do you mean?! Those are your parents, dude! Your father is a freaking demon lord in the sky. And your mother? The former Officer Annabella Cantaloupe herself! She’s a real deal of—"

But before he could keep going on to further leaking my buried secret like a blithering idiot, I then forcefully covered his mouth with my hand as I held him on the wall with a low, but harsh warning.

“Shh! You’re being a noisy dumbass!”

But he then piped down my threat as he pushed me out from my grasp with a harsh elaboration.

“Oh, come on! Our parents were very close to each other back in the 90s Gulf crisis and many more! What’s not to be grateful for having with that kind of parents?!”

Hearing his query still won’t heal my past wound. As if growing up is realizing that my family is the most horrible human being ever. That’s when I looked down with a guilt that had shrouded my sanity.

“They’re… kind of… frauds…”

However, he swiftly patted my right shoulder with his usual enthusiasm. As if that would make any better from my growing anxiety.

“Bro! What do you mean with frauds?! Having a family issue with them?!”

Had enough of this nonsense, I quickly snapped as I slapped his arm with a retort that somehow deafened the entire room.

“Get out of my face! I don’t want to remember that painful memory again!”

That in turn, silenced Beck as if I was like his parents that scolded a misbehaving child. And in turn, I continued my retort as I looked down into my photo.

“Because every time I looked at this memo, it should serenade me! But the reality?! It’s like an endless cycle of nightmare!”

“It’s useless for us to constantly cling to the past. Because we must foresee the future of ourselves and our successors.”

Without any warning, I picked up my bag and left Beck alone as I was on my way to the locker room with a growing frustration right after he was bringing up my past that I should have buried it 9000 feet underground.

“Bro! I came here just to help you!”

Of course, Clarence Yorkshire was no joke in the entirety of UZEAF, where they even nicknamed him the “Demon Lord of Ephrata.” But the more I lived with him, the more he was like the slave of duties, ranks, and politics.

And my mother, Anabella Cantaloupe, is no different than him. Even though she had retired from the army, duty always called her like a catnip to turn back the tide of these stupid wars.

But when I think about it: Am I just being too selfish to understand their struggle? Or are they just refusing to take their time with me instead?

***

The locker room was somewhat empty, only around 2 personnel. I was putting on my flight suit, pulling up the zipper, and tightening up the belts. Right as I also picked up my helmet, the thought of my old photo suddenly lingering on my sanity. Almost plunging me into the abyss of insanity.

Unfortunately, no matter how much I shrug it off myself, it keeps haunting me like a phantom of the nightmare.

As I walked my way out of this locker room and on my way to the hangar, someone stopped me from behind and asserted me.

"Don't you have any idea that you're always putting everyone in danger every time you're flying out there?"

Right as I glanced over my shoulder, it was Gordon who glanced at me with a threatening glare. I don’t know what the matter is with this gangster from the hood; I had to address it with a sterner tone.

"What'd you expect?! This is war! It’s deciding who’s still left."

Right as he closed the locker door, with a subtle harsh click, he then picked up his helmet as he pointed at me with a stern warning.

"Not like that! What I meant is, you're being too aggressive when you're flying your plane. And you're always dragging everyone into danger because of your stupidity."

There he goes! Acting like a chief officer, despite him being the greater idiot in my sight. I looked the other way as I let out a sigh of frustration; I had enough of hearing his stupid words.

"If I fly like a grandma, I'm dead meat."

"No wonder why everyone is always complaining about your dangerous flying."

Right as he mentioned that certain word that grated my gears, I then glanced back at him with a sharper glare as I pointed at him with a sterner assertion. Hoping to put him in his place.

"That's right! I'm dangerous!"

"And I should be! Because that's the point of being a fighter pilot in the frontline!"

"Because if you don’t take a chance that exists in front of you, you don’t deserve to live longer!"

“And if there’s no one you could rely on, who are you going to rely on?”

Wasting no seconds, I left Gordon alone in this locker room and walked my way into the hangar with a bitter feeling. From how obnoxious he is.

I don’t really know what’s wrong with me. Is it because of that old picture that gives me a bad omen for this mission? Or am I just need some space to breath?

***

Arriving at my hangar, it was somewhat empty, as most of the pilots are still inside the base. But in an exception of myself, because I’m ready to plunge deeper into the 9 circles of hate just to stop this useless war in no time.

Right as I was glancing at my own C-16 Viperid, echoes of my memories suddenly haunting my sanity like a phantom of the nightmare. It was like, this aircraft was the gift from my father before his death. A bittersweet birthday present.

I put my right hand at the jet’s nose, feeling the metal’s cold touch, and mumbling to myself.

“Was it worth it? Leaving us alone in the name of protecting us?!”

I then looked down with a growing sense of guilt. I lightly gasped in my breath as these memories were fully devouring my sanity into the pit of insanity. Just as I was about to break down by screaming at the top of my lung to letting it go; someone suddenly shattered the glass by calling me.

“2nd Lieutenant? It’s not yet the time to launch.”

His word jump scared me into the top of my lung. But as I regained back my senses, it was Sebastien Nollet, the mechanic of my aircraft and the personal flight trainer of Ephrata Airbase.

Though nuggets in Ephrata Airbase sometimes made fun of him being the fat old pops, his flying skill and his dedication to the entire UZEAF were not a laughable matter.

Right as he glanced at me with a suspicion, he narrowed his eyebrow with a curiosity about my current state. Spoke with a somewhat redneck-ish accent.

“2nd Lieutenant Yorkshire? What’s wrong, kid?”

But then, I quickly shrug everything off as if nothing had happened at all.

“Oh! N-nothing! I’m… just checking out how my babe’s going.”

Bizarrely, Sebastien then let out a chuckle as he stood beside me on my plane’s nose, putting his hands on his hips as he glanced back at my plane.

“What are you talking about? You’ve been spending too much time on the hangar with your aircraft.”

His statements still give me some irritation as if that was a bad thing to do. I then glanced back at him with a subtle, sharpened glare.

“Oh, come on, pops! This is my aircraft! And I’m the only one who knows her better than anyone else!”

But then, he cut short my argument with a subtle stern statement as he glanced back at me.

“I get what you mean. But skill and strength are not enough without one thing that you are lacking.”

“And that thing is spirit.”

It still gives me a tinge of frustration hearing his elaboration, which sounded so redundant and unnecessary to speak on. I then raised my voice right at his face.

“What do you mean by lacking spirit?! I’m literally putting all my souls into this aircraft!”

But suddenly, he then putting me in my place with a sterner glance, but remained calm despite my constant bickering.

“Unfortunately, you’re getting it wrong, kid. Spirit does not mean you could freely fly like a madman all you want. But, knowing when to strike and when to retreat.”

His eyes softened as he placed his hand on my shoulder with an empathetic query.

“I get what you’re up to, kid. Missing your parent that much?”

His query suddenly gives me a shock. How the hell does he even know what I’m up to? Is he overhearing my argument with Beck or something? I want to argue more, but I feel defeated as I sigh in frustration.

“Yes… kind of…”

But then, I raised my voice with a sterner elaboration. Hoping to clear things up as he would understand on what I was hiding on.

“Only if they’re just… taking their time with me instead of being a lap dog of the stupid duties!”

“Because if I were in their position, I would gladly retire and take my time with my family. And even if duty calls, I’d rather filter out which one is beneficial for my family than the latter.”

Right after my elaboration, the entire facility was then blaring the alarm with an announcement.

“Attention to all IETFS pilots! Commence the launch operation! This is not a drill!”

Knowing it was our times to sortie, Sebastien then patted my shoulder for the last time before he leaves me behind in this hangar.

“Whatever you do, kid. But even so, not all chances that you take are always beneficial for you and for the rest.”

I then let out a heaved sigh and prepared everything to make sure my aircraft was still in peak condition as I tightened all the ground attack weaponry’ screws. From bombs and even rocket launchers.

After all was set and done, I hopped into the cockpit, turned on the engines, closed the canopy, activating all the electronic system, and taxiing to the runway, all alone.

As I have finally arrived at the runway for the takeoff procedure, the tower control then spoke out with a somewhat jocular tone.

“Wyvern-1, that was too early for you. But anyway, the runway is clear, and you are cleared to take off.”

Without waiting for anyone to join in, I quickly pushed the throttle into maximum, put the flaps upward, and lifted my stick until I was finally airborne.

Right after I’ve finally reached the altitude of 656 feet (200 meters), I then retract my landing gear and go straight to the mission objective.

“Wyvern-1 altitude restriction cancelled. Return to your mission, good luck.”

It may be selfish, but I fly because this is how I relieve my stress. It was like plunging myself into the abyss of death to make myself feel livelier than ever.