Location: Outskirts of Kyiv, Ukraine

Unit: 40th Tactical Aviation Brigade, Ukrainian Air Force

Date: March 25th, 2021 CE

A voice spoke, "My dear humanity!" the voice paused, "Today, we stand upon a momentous day!"

Murmuring came from in front of the voice. This voice... was coming from a member of what was once the New Zealand government. He stood on a wooden stage with Red and black banners with a white silver fern placed in the middle. This politician was none other than the famed humanitarian and loved internet personality, Lian Walters, but today he was acting differently... he was ecstatic that his glorious purpose had finally come to fruition. Today he stood on live TV and was about to shake humanity to its core...

"Over the last few decades, you have ruined this planet. But that's not all you've broken in such a perfectly crafted world, you've destroyed the natural order and made people's lives much harder."

He disgusted look grew on his face, "My people have been sent to fight for you. Americans, British and all NATO members. Fighting those armed by the Russian, Chinese and Ex-eastern bloc nations. So after several years of up-armament, we are ready to challenge the false order you have made. We are ready to challenge... humanity."

He leaned closer to the microphone, "I do not regret to inform you, that YOU are at war with the remnants of this once incredible world. So, let me make this clear for everyone here, my nation, the Oceanic Empire is here to solve the world's biggest problem. And we believe this world's problems start with every single one of you."

From behind his back, he pulled something, it was small, no bigger than a hand. But a few seconds later it clicked as the slide moved forward... a pistol. He raised it and fired the trigger several times into a crowd of cameramen and women. Suddenly the camera went to static saying the broadcast was interrupted.

A Ukrainian voice spoke, "What the hell, it's not April 1st today, right?" He shrugged off the broadcast and went back to work at his desk, their air patrol had just come back in and the second group of MiGs were preparing to take off. The rest would be back in about thirty minutes.

Rubbing his eyes, he heard a ringing come from a telephone, picking it up, he spoke, "Who is this?"

A worried Slavic voice came through, "Finally, I got through to someone! Listen, don't hang up!"

The Ukrainian Air Traffic Controller asked again, "Who is calling this phone line?"

The Slavic voice spoke again, "This is Colonel-General Fedorov of the Russian Federation... we would like to request the Ukrainian air force's help..."

The Ukrainian hovered above the phone holder, considering cutting the Russian off, but he couldn't, pulling back to his ear he spoke, "Why do you need our help, can't your new fleet handle whatever is going on!"

The Russian Colonel-General spoke again, "You know nothing? That's not our fleet, it's an Oceanic Empire fleet!"

The Ukrainian looked left and right, "The Oceanic who now?"

The Russian was shocked, "You didn't watch the broadcast, they just declared war on us?"

The Ukrainian tilted his head, "So it's not a joke... eh, why should we care about you a lot? You and us don't even get along, especially after 2014!"

The Russian bit his lip, "Look... I'm sorry about that, if you help us we can make arrangements to hand it back with our government gone!"

The Ukrainian smiled, "Well I'm going to have to discuss it with my government first, so..."

A single set of feet bounced off the stairs coming to the main control room, turning around the Ukrainian Air Traffic Controller noticed a pilot in a ski mask run into the room, "Holy-holy shit," he said, "Are we cleared for take-off?"

The Air traffic controller immediately recognised the pilot, "No Ghost, we aren't at war, others are, but we aren't."

The pilot nicknamed Ghost spoke, "They declared war on humanity, and they nuked three different countries, and yet you say we aren't at war? Kyiv could be next, for all you know."

The Ukrainian looked at him then at the phone, "They nuked cities?"

The Russian Colonel-General was speechless, "You didn't know?"

The air traffic controller nodded at Ghost while speaking into the phone, "What do you need?"

The Russian nodded, "Aircraft, pilots and short-range missiles, several other countries are already rallying to strike against the fleet."

The Ukrainian spoke again, "Why short range and not long range?"

Fedorov gripped his phone, "Long-range missiles don't work, they will be shot out of the sky in seconds, they seem to want a brawl and dogfight. Korean War style."

Ghost stood there listening in on the conversation, "Understood, can I assume you will provide fuel and feed us upon arrival at the attack base?"

There was a pause, "That can be done! How many should we expect?"

Ghost paused, "We have twenty MiG 29s at this base, five of which are currently refuelling, so they will be a few hours behind."

Fedorov nodded, pacing up and down the radio room speaking in Russian, he echoes it to other personnel before turning back to his microphone, "Get here as fast as you can, the attack begins at sunset."

Ghost nodded and stepped back as the call went silent and bleeped, putting the phone down the two Ukrainians looked at each other, the ATC officer spoke first, "Well you've really gone and done it now..." he sighed, "I'll inform the scientist and get him to push it through, get to your fighter, Ghost."

Ghost nodded, running onto the runway and into a hanger, suddenly a female pilot ran up to him, a flight helmet under each arm, "We got clearance?"

This pilot was Kalinchenko, one of the few female fighter pilots in the unit and Ghost's wingman. Fiercely loyal and extremely competitive, she is a true site to behold during MOC dogfights and air-to-air combat.

Ghost took the helmet from her and placed it over his grey balaclava, "Indeed, Kalinchenko," Ghost looked over his shoulder to another pilot half asleep, "That all good with you, Major?"

The third pilot sat up, "Just peachy, Ghost..." He stood up, whistling for the mechanics, "Get in your MiGs then, boys and girls."

***

Location: Naryan-Mar Airport, Russian Federation

"So the Russians just commandeered a civilian airport?" Kalinchenko asked over the radio, "That seems a bit extreme..."

Ghost was the first to respond, "Harsh times for the Russian armed forces, eh? Anyway, where are those mystical SU57s the Russians were supposed to have, want to scan it to see their real capabilities."

Kalinichenko opened her cockpit, immediately feeling a chill run down her spine, "Yeah, keyword mystical... Oh. My. God."

Ghost turned his head around looking at what Kalinichenko was watching, from here he couldn't see, but opening the runway he noticed a group of sleek western fighters sitting on the runway, "F16s, Gripens, F18s... they are beautiful."

Kalinichenko put both hands behind her head, "Is that what I think it is?"

Ghost gulped as he saw another aircraft roll into file behind the other western aircraft, several F35s, "Holy shit... that's going to piss off the Ruskies."

Kalinichenko pulled back her visor, holding tears in, "They are just so beautiful..."

The Major came onto the radio, "Get back in your aircraft and stop bothering the Polish and Finnish pilots."

Ghost chuckled, speaking into his radio, "No need to get moody, Major!"

Suddenly, a voice called out, "LISTEN IN!"

Ghost and Kalinichenko looked to the command tower, where a man stood; that was none other than Colonel-General Fedorov of the Russian Federation. They both hoped back into their aircraft, pulling their canopy shut and turning on their radios.

"Today, we fight under not one flag nor country, today we fly together, as brothers and sisters, as pilots! This battle will be bloody; it will be tough! Everyone knows their designated targets, we will clear the way for the bombers who deliver deadly payloads of nuclear bombs onto the enemy fleet," He gulped, "However, we will not allow a single one of our brothers to be shot down nor destroyed, without the enemy paying a heavy price! And even if we are, we will use their sacrifice to guide our bullets and bombs in a destructive force that rivals any higher power which let this horrific enemy attempt an attack on our Motherland's! For victory! For humanity!"

Radio channels came alive as the Russian officer walked inside the control room, adjusting his hat.

The first wave of fighters took off, these were a mix of Russian SU-30s and SU-27s. Ghost noticed it was them next, strapping in, he adjusted his helmet when the call came through, "Ukrainian aircraft take off in three... two... one, green light!"

The MiGs shot off the runway, Ghost felt the increasing Gs increase as he lifted his aircraft off the ground with the rest. Pulling back on the stick the aircraft rose into the air, Ghost immediately raised the wheels and shifted the flaps into a centralised position ensuring they didn't snap off, he felt his speed increase faster as he rose through the clouds into the sky, the sun started to set on the horizon as Ghost looked into it, chuckling it he felt the rays burning into the back of his head, turning his head back to the front his vision returned to normal. Rising above the clouds, the sky was filled with hundreds of fighter jets. The battle that would see Russian and Western fighter jets fighter together would finally come.

***

Barrel rolling, Ghost dodged a stream of bullets, flying straight past two enemy fighters. Ghost turned as fast as he could, aileron rolling to increase his turn rate. He suddenly opened fire with his first machine gun, letting off a short burst of no more than 15 rounds, and two enemy fighters exploded. Barrel rolling through the shrapnel, he dived behind Kalinichenko, knocking out the enemy aircraft on her tail.

"Kal, I have this one!" Ghost called out as he sped past, destroying a fourth aircraft ahead of her.

Kalinichenko radioed back, "That was my kill!"

Ghost looked around, scanning the battlefield. The sky was lit with tracers and missiles. Pilots opened fire upon one another and aircraft danced around the air currents, "This is taking too long. I'll deal with the carrier myself, fall back in with the rest of the group!"

Kal nodded, "Don't overdo it, I'll keep the rest safe."

Ghost nodded, hitting several makeshift panels on each side of the screen, flaps started to retract into the aircraft revealing hidden armaments, "Advanced radar active, engaging advanced HUD."

Several screens started to boot up around his helmet in a white font on the see-through background. He looked around, focusing on certain ones as others changed, "Three hundred and forty-seven enemy aircraft, look to be fighters and interceptors. The fighters seem to have similar shells to F35s but no bomb bay but a larger rotary gun. The interceptors I don't recognise..."

Ghosts MiG 29 wasn't just normal. It was improved and enhanced by one of his dear friends; a scientist. Ghost was the test project and poster boy to get the government to invest more in new weapons development as well as to improve the export of advanced weaponry.

Typing into a digital keyboard with his left hand he designated the interceptors as Flaunter and fighters as Fleabag. Diving down to no more than a few feet above the waves he opened a compartment from beneath both his wings. Tubes fell off the bottom as they blasted forward, propelled by mini explosions and a propeller it sped up to max speed as the MiG 29 whizzed past an enemy vessel. As he passed the ship, it immediately exploded. Ghost smiled, "One down, two armaments gone."

Suddenly machine gun fire came from behind him hitting the tip of his wing. Immediately rolling away, he dodged an enemy fighter as it slammed into the cold arctic sea below. As he checked his rear camera, he saw a fighter right on his tail.

"Shit!" he pulled the stick as hard as he could, veering upwards. Suddenly he heard a soul-shattering sound. Several hundred rounds shot around him, mostly missing. Immediately hitting the stick down, he saw the enemy fighter fly past, spinning onto his back he fired off a missile blowing the enemy to shreds.

Putting his fighter into a climb, he sped above the enemy fleet dodging the ship's anti-air guns; he tipped his fighter over with its underside facing up, watching the enemy fleet, "They aren't trying... are they?"

Just then a voice came over his radio, "Ukrainian MiG 29, why have you broken away from your wingman?"

Ghost thought for a second before responding, "Your bombers are too slow. They'll be shot down before they reach the target, I'll deal with as many as I can but don't launch those bombers! You need to arm your MiG-31s with bombs and short-range missiles and get them airborne ASAP. Have them smash through the defences at Mach 2 and do hit and runs!"

The Russian radio operator came back flustered, "What are you talking about?"

Ghost spoke, "You heard me get more MiGs armed with missiles and bombs, we are getting slaughtered out here!"

The radio operator paused before checking the radar, "Never mind that. You need to return to a formation quickly, Ukrainian, you have fifteen Bandits closing fast."

Ghost looked at his monitor. It was flashing red with a bullet jammed into the speaker. Quickly he plunged, flicking a switch causing black smoke to trail out the back of his aircraft, three enemies started to close from his rear the first one was caught in the smoke and lost all vision pulling into another fighter.

Ghost looked in his rear camera, "Two."

Going down in a circle he shot back around, quickly looping. Suddenly, facing eight enemy aircraft his eyes widen. Slamming a makeshift panel he pulls into a dive showing his underbelly to the enemy.

Hearing their guns charge up, he braced.

Then ten tiny rockets flew out the wings slamming into the enemy's barrels before exploding. All eight immediately implode with the first shot fired.

Ghost wipes his head, "Ten..."

Aileron rolling he pulls back on the throttle before pressing down the trigger on top of his stick, all four guns tore through the air slamming straight through a passing enemy airframe.

Ghost spoke again, "Eleven, four to go."

He then heard a different type of gun, it was more primitive, not a Gatling style but still a machine gun. Looking up he saw a shape pass over the top and immediately break left.

He then felt a stream run down his left arm, looking at it he froze... three bullets had hit him, penetrating the fabric and lodging themselves in his skin, looking around he could see the bullets penetrate from behind narrowly missing his engine.

His arm ached but he couldn't stop, he put his aircraft into a steep dive, and he felt the Gravitational forces rack up as he descended to the ocean, last second he pulled back. Dropping all exterior explosives into the sea.

The enemy fighters followed, the first in hot pursuit with the others lagging; Ghost looked back into his rear camera watching the jet behind him open fire with its wing-mounted guns, this was one of the interceptors... a Flaunter.

The Flaunter followed in quick pursuit, machine guns attempting the spray the MiG. Flicking a switch up, Ghost looked back into his camera before hitting the trigger again. Then his already dropped payload exploded below the enemy fighter. Shrapnel was blown straight to the bottom and the pilot ejected with his seat before the aircraft combusted. The parachute opened and Ghost kept on going, "twelve."

He was slightly faster than the enemy pilots with his dropped payload, glancing at the ammo counter he had no more than ten rounds left in all guns combined with no missiles left. But he still had one final card, breathing in, he concentrated. He knew this was it if he miss-timed this, he would lose.

Removing his hand from hovering above the button he put his aircraft at a decreased throttle, it started to slow until it was less than a few hundred metres in front of the enemy, barrel rolling around the battlefield he dodged machine gun fire and the anti-air cannons. Flying in between two masts, he looked back as one of the enemies attempted to follow, their left wing clashed with one of the masts sending it into a deadly spin before plunging into the sea.

"Thirteen."

Ghost saw it... the enemy's main carrier.

Suddenly hitting a button on his panel he pulled a small lever on the side of his aircraft's stick to the very bottom. Underneath his plane a hatch opened, revealing a bomb... it had a silver cover but heavy amounts of explosives on the insides. He brought his aircraft closer to the ocean. Noticing the carrier had a hole through the centre, he gulped knowing how to deal the most damage, quickly scanned it, and a diagram appeared in his HUD.

Ghost smiled, "two lifts on each side... enough space to fit."

Suddenly flipping over he shot forward, speed constantly increasing. He held the stick in position, carefully trying not to pull it up. He saw machine gun fire spray around his cockpit as he narrowly dodged.

Ghost moved the throttle forward. Three quarters. He yelled out as he started to feel the forces push on his head, his vision started to fade when he screamed as loud as he could.

One Hundred metres...

Fifty metres...

Suddenly hitting the bomb release, he spun his jet around, tossing the bomb into the hanger as he sped through. It started to roll and the enemy crew just stared in disbelief.

Then it exploded.

Ghost hit the throttle to max speed.

Mach 2.1... Mach 2.5... Mach 2.8... Mach 3.1.

The sound barrier shattered several times over as he escaped the shrapnel. His opponents weren't so lucky, however. Getting decimated by the explosive a huge explosion rippled through the waves as the aircraft carrier exploded.

Turning his aircraft back to shore, he felt his vision begin to fade. Clicking a button the stick locked in one place as anti-air fire tore around him. But as his vision started to fade he heard hundreds of missiles fly past and several explosions.

He smiled knowing exactly what was going on... he thought to himself, 'If this truly was my final battle then it was a damn good one.'

Then his vision faded to black.

***

"Colonel-General!" A runner ran into the command tent.

Colonel-General Fedorov turned around along with another high-ranking military officer bearing a Ukrainian insignia. The two stood in a tent watching the several radio operators work.

Fedorov turned around, "What is it?"

The man bearing the Ukrainian flag stood up, "Where is he?"

The Russian soldier paused, "We found part of his aircraft..."

The two officers looked at each other, confused, "Explain."

The Russian soldier continued, "We found the burnt-up engine and wings, along with the main hull. And the tip was a few hundred metres north. But the cockpit is missing."

The Ukrainian sat back down, "I see..." he turned to look behind him at a man in a large fur coat, "Any thoughts?"

The man stepped forward revealing his silver moustache and bald head, "If the Russians touch that aircraft, we will cut all contact, that is to be returned to Ukrainian hands immediately, tip included." He paused coughing, "anyway it's quite a normal look about seven hundred metres north and you should find the cockpit."

The Russian soldier looked confused but nodded before saluting and leaving.

Fedorov turned around speaking fluent Ukrainian, "You want to tell me what that was about?"

The man looked at the Russian, "You may be half Ukrainian, Fedorov, but that doesn't mean I trust you with any of that technology."

The man bearing the Ukrainian insignia looked up, "What he's trying to say, is that technology is top of the line and currently the only active model, losing it would be very bad."

Fedorov nodded, "We'll get it loaded up immediately and escort it back to Ukraine. Not a single piece will be lost."

A radio man turned around looking at the officers, "Sir! They found the cockpit."

Fedorov ran outside into the snowy land observing several cameras on one covered vehicle, a single soldier approached hands raised, repeating one word, "друг, друг, друг."

The soldier only carried a pistol but had it emptied before he found the pod, "друг, друг."

No response.

Going into reaching distance he saw part of the parachute and the MiG29 cockpit flipped over, wiping the screen he attempted to stare in, looking straight into a pilot's covered face, he at first saw the blood dripping out of his shoulder with a mark in his helmet. Going around the other side he looked in, the consoles were off but the cockpit was warm.

Suddenly the head snapped left staring at the young Russian, the Russian yelled out, "He's alive!"