A/N Sorry about the time difference between releases. this is a project I am undertaking for the hell of it, and write, release and edit whenever I have time and feel like it, or whenever I have a great idea. If you like it, or even if you don't, please take the time to review. I am always open to help with this...Thing... In any event. Here have some writing.

Suburban Vale: September 19, 2022

Jason Valdez had always been interested in wars. But this time it was different, today he was looking for the people who had fought in them. Specifically, what would forever be known as the "air war" 14 years prior, won almost entirely by Vale's prestigious Air Force. Looking at the notes on his scroll, he confirmed that the apartment complex he was standing in front of was in fact, the correct one. "Hello? Is this the house of Jaune Arc?" the Journalist asked after buzzing the apartment he believed to be correct.

"Yes, this is Jaune. Who is this?" a tired, skeptical voice answered questioningly.

"My name is Jason Valdez, I would like to ask you some questions for a book I am writing on the war." the journalist said calmly, although slightly taken aback by the snappy nature of the voice on the other side of the intercom.

"You said the war right? Come in." The voice said. A loud clicking noise and a buzz indicated the door opening. Stepping out of the autumn cold, Jason noticed that the rest off the complex did not appear to have any other residents. That's odd. A building of this size should have more than just one tenant, he thought. As he approached the door to knock, it opened with a soft creak, a blonde man clean shaven with bags under his eyes standing behind it. "Mr Valdez I presume? My name is Jaune Arc. Come in, sit. I expect you'll be here for a while. Would you like a drink?" He asked, clearing a bundle of clothing off of the couch, gesturing to a half empty bottle of scotch.

"Yes, water is fine thank you."

"You said you wanted to ask questions earlier."

"Yes, well I want to ask you a few questions about the 122nd Fighter squadron." at that, the man across from him sat up straighter in his chair. "What, to your knowledge, did the 122nd do from a combat standpoint?"

"The 122nd Tactical Fighter squadron of Vale's Royal Air Force was partially responsible for defending the skies during the initial attacks on Vale's capital that first day." The man said with alarming ease, "Additionally they were involved in the largest military campaign in Remnant's history, 'Operation Hot Iron' which resulted in the occupation of Atlas." as he finished his account of the squadron's history, a phone began to ring. "That...would be my phone. Excuse me." He said standing to get the device.

"This might be a good time to get the account of the initial attack written..." The writer muttered as his interviewee left the room

14 Years Earlier. Time: 1347 Location: North of The Kingdom of Vale. T-3 Hours, 28 Minutes to Zeus impact 1

On board the mobile command cruiser CVCA-137 Boreas a voice crackled through the radio, "Zeus Auxiliary Command to Boreas, rod trajectories laid in, standing by for launch." The response came from a man, red streaks highlighting his black hair, along with horns that seemed to blend into his hair, standing in the center of the command deck.

"Very good Zeus command. You are cleared for launch. Nevermore squadron has launched and will engage as soon as the strike is complete."

"Copy Boreas. Commencing launch operations. Good luck and godspeed commander." The final response from the control station ended with a burst of static before cutting off completely. The figure on the command deck grinned, although the plan had only just begun.

Time: 1347 Location: Royal Valesian Air Force Base 0023 AKA Beacon.

Ruby Rose had always liked flying. Ever since she was little, when her dad used to take her up in their small prop plane, she'd wanted to fly a jet fighter. Even though she was two years younger than the rest of her graduating class at Signal Air Force Academy, she was still one of the best in her squadron. The stunts she knew how to pull rivaled the designated stunt team, but... she was only flying patrols today. However, her beautiful baby was currently 50 feet below the barracks in the cliff face, and she was sitting listening to the CO read off the flyover order and the patrol routes for the Joint Armed Forces Security Operations for the festival or 'Operation Overwatch' as the brass called it.

She thought it was a stupid name, but if it made them feel better they could call it Operation Shitstorm for all she cared. There was some solace in the names the brass gave their ops, always hopeful even if almost every single one ended in either a massacre or a clusterfuck that the Air Force was needed to sort out. Not that Ruby minded all that much. The window at the top of the wall in the briefing room displayed a clear blue sky that was always there. A comforting constant in the life of a fighter pilot.

Time 1348 Location: 300 miles above the Kingdom of Vale

An oddly shaped communications satellite floated silently through the inky blackness of orbit. A series of commands were received and the sides of the station rotated outwards revealing six 12 meter projectiles made completely of tungsten. The rods silently detached. Propulsion components and all, they angled towards the horizon. The rocket motors on the flight controls burned their fuel before detaching, leaving their charges to drift away from their base towards the planet below.

December 31, 1537, Over Avalon Dam; The Valley of Kings: Belka

Galm 1 banked left as his former wingman hurtled towards him in the crippled remains of the ADFX-02 'Morgan'. They passed each other in mid air, the jets missing each other by less than a foot before separating, and launching off in different directions the Morgan detonating behind the experienced pilot. The light from the V2's explosion was enough to disorient Cipher for long enough for a purple tunnel to envelop his F-15. The anomaly vanished as soon as it had arrived, leaving Cipher very much confused and the plane very much not in Belka.

Time: 1355 Altitude: 30,000 feet Location: South of the Kingdom of Vale

A gray F-15C with blue triangles on the wings and tail-planes cruised peacefully above the forest, its pilot thoroughly confused. "Hold on a minute, one second I'm flying over Avalon Dam, the next I'm...here. But where the hell is here?" The man asked to nobody in particular. "Ghost-Eye! Do you copy? Come in Ghost-Eye!" The normally composed pilot was now shouting on all radio frequencies. "Hey! Anyone there?"

1400 Beacon Air Force Base Command and Control Center

It wasn't every day that Dale was able to just sit in front of his console drinking freshly brewed coffee, but today was different. Today was the festival, and he managed aircraft during takeoffs and landings, so there wasn't much to do. Not that he minded, but he was surprised to find not 13 radar contacts, the 12 patrol pilots from Lighthouse AFB and their flight lead, but 14. The patrol, leader, and one other contact...an lone F-15 cruising at 30,000? All the planes in the flight were Falcons, and there were no other flights scheduled in the airspace, so who is that? Turning on his radio the controller was immediately asked the question "Ghost Eye, do you copy?" to which he instinctively responded

"Beacon AFB Control to unidentified F-15, what is your affiliation, squadron number and call-sign?"

"Oh good someone willing to help. This is Galm 1 Callsign Cipher, of the Ustio Air Force 66th Air Force Unit. Is there anywhere I can put down? Over."

"Cipher, we...have no air force affiliated with 'Ustio,' ...but we do have a place for you to land. Over." That was strange, Ustio wasn't a country on Remnant, and Dale didn't have a pilot under the callsign Cipher in the registry either.

"Roger control. Give me an approach and I'll land fine. Over."

"Cipher, Move to vector 010 for approach."

"Copy." The pilot seemed experienced, but not cocky. As if he knew the dangers of the machine he controlled. Dale had only met a few other pilots like him, and half of them are either dead or MIA at the moment. Time dragged as the blip came closer to the center of the display. However, before the plane itself landed, base security was notified and was waiting on the flight line to appraise the new arrival.

"Galm 1. After landing, proceed to hangar lift 2. Do not be alarmed by the base security personnel. They do not intend to harm you." Dale told the Aircraft.

A/N So the shit gets started! (FYI, this looks to start really fast then slow down a little, so please stick with me here) Comments and critiques are greatly appreciated and don't worry, there is more coming