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About Ovidsidios

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    The Cheshire Wolf of CNville
  • Birthday 12/29/1989

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    Fellowship of The Wolves
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  1. Ovidsidios

    Beware the Wereape!

        You'll never have enough
  2. Ovidsidios

    Beware the Wereape!

    Nothing is more dangerous than a wereape, unless it's an underestimated wereape.     Howl, or oo-oo-aa, whatever it is we say...
  3. Ovidsidios

    FTW Declaration

               50/50, just like my odds in life.
  4. Ovidsidios

    Peace in our time

      It's alright love, I'll always be here for you.
  5. Ovidsidios

    The Wolf War ends

        A quality of wolves: incapable of hate, unless you really suck.   And I mean...you gotta really be a piece of work.   For what it's worth, dialoging with Czar was easily one of the most awkward things I did during the war. However, like most things, they grow on you.   Life is interesting because, before we were Fellowship or Alpha, before we were leaders or hunters or instructors, before our distinct and inimitable howls pierced those moonless nights, we were all pups; cute, furry, little murderous canines. This war has helped remind us that we were all* cute and furry at some point, and would have happily played chase or "hey, that's mine" with any one of them when we were young and ignorant.         *obviously not everyone can be a cool four legged murdering machine
  6. Ovidsidios

    The Wolf War ends

    I can howl to a future filled with more wolves.
  7. Ovidsidios

    Pacific Rim Conference

    Jon smirks. "Last time I checked, the borders of the pacific ocean were black and white. You can't fit an armada of any on anything, and if you try, certainly not for long. And you couldn't assail a country let alone a continent. The consideration you seem to be proposing is a single man, with his little dial work radio, sitting in the bleeding sun and rain, while minding his sanity, like a good little lad. Make those islands, [i]our[/i] islands then. Do you,* Jon snaps his his fingers "eh, representative specialize in any naval or militarized technology, weapon, or transport? Would you consider coop militarized tours? Make no mistake, good fences make good neighbors. With one nation, this is audacious. With two nations, it is a conspiracy. With three nations, an alliance. What will they say of five? Let them call it peace."   Jon removed a laser pointer that doubled as the calligraphy pen he signed the agreement with. He pointed to each of the islands that could serve as anticipatory positions. "They're sufficiently large enough to support multiple personnel as those islands can be self-sufficient in their own regards. Isn't peace among our waters boldness? Why stop an inch before finality!"
  8. Ovidsidios

    Hope Float 2

    Samir landed within an indistinct airport that could have passed for nothing more than a dirt path. He didn't give himself much time to take in the sights. He was flying within this personal prop. jet when his initial course was changed. Since he didn't fly, he was reliant on others to fly him places. Sadly, Samir had an indisposition to flying.   Upon landing, he was handed the keys to a jeep, a map, a compass and the only words he understood, "Go".   He read very well the contents of that missive. He committed to an ineffable memory every detail that he could. Coordinates, set times, names, but no pictures. It was mentioned that it would be too risky.   It didn't take long to figure out where he needed to be. There were several flyers as he drove into town but the details were all contained in his debriefing, which consisted of old mantras and strange memoirs from a character developed by an author the professor particularly admired. He continued driving through the plaza, contemplating the words As you walk to the temple, hand out loaves to the poor. At first he didn't think much of it, but its meanings, given these current events were manifold.   He parks the jeep a short distance away from port. He readies his identification, which should pass all civilian standards on all levels. Military personnel, now that's another story.   Relying on his unfailing luck, he approached a ship that looked civilian enough. Samir walked up to a man he thinks might be able to help him, and, hoping the individual spoke French, said, "Excuse me sir, I am here to volunteer for the relief effort provided by this fleet."
  9. Ovidsidios

    Pacific Rim Conference

                Jon nodded and took his seat. Among the other "representatives". He already felt stiff and uncomfortable, and realized, though most of their glances were passing at best, many judgments were already being made. Still he sat, and listened carefully to what was being said.   After a while, he began to grow agitated at the short sightedness displayed among all parties. It grew to annoy him, and sadly he could take very little of it much longer. He rose his hand, in good fashion, and waited to be called upon. Once recognized, he stood, and addressing the assembly in his rough Australian accent said,   "Hoi, the name's Jon. I would understand if my face is purportless, and frankly, I wouldn't blame you. I'm not a well decorated pilot, though I've flown in more missions than possibly the lot of you combined would have approved. I graduated from the academy with no honors or special recognitions, my plane is the same ol' trinket I flew half-way across the pacific to get here in, and if there is something I hate more than being shot at, it's self-entitled, short sighted, bureaucratic big wigs, who wouldn't know a better and brighter future if it slapped it's self-entitled, short sighted, bureaucratic big wig across your faces!"   The room grew real tense, and Jon seized the moment, "Look, I haven't the slightest clue if this pacific bowl, or tea cup, or whatever the hell it's called, is gonna work. But I gotta ask, when the world comes falling on your doorstep, are you gonna ask it to knock before it kicks your front door down? I can tell you a thing or two about some of the military equipment this little lady plans on using" Jon pulls out his parcel and throws several documents detailing 10 different derivation scenarios on the subjects of water, salt, and tempest durable material, outlines of different means in which effective communication and adequate relays can be made, and some pictures of the pacific ocean (which Jon thought the professor threw in just to mess with him). "Trust me, the comms work both way. If she or him," Jon points to the Cascadian representative, but, having no name to draw on, shrugs and just chuckles, "well, you get my point."   "Look, full disclosure, I don't really care where you come from, or what political view you may or may not hold. But if there's something I need to make clear it's that 'we' aren't your little toy puppets; pilots, soldiers, like me, we're not expendable. You think it's just a game of numbers, but eventually those numbers run thin, and when they run out, the only one to protect your precious holdings will be your pomp and circumstance. And trust me, they make better songs than defenders."   Feeling the discontentment in the room, Jon eases up a lot, "if you can't see it past yourselves to hope in a future where a father doesn't have to bury his son, then what good is your presence here? Because the future is not a lovely little meeting, in a perfectly regulated room, where people bring you the very napkins you wipe your own ass with. It's unpredictable, it's chaotic, and it's unmerciful. Fate may favor the bold, but only because she likes wild partners. For everyone else, the herd that sticks together survives the longest." Jon points to the map, his finger leading to the very heart of the pacific, a place no country inhabits for miles, "at least give us a home, and a future. Both of which are not beyond your very fingertips. In fact it's right here," Jon puts his hand on the paper, and glancing over it, signs it (but not on the line where one is expected, but rather on the very document itself).   "I want to live in a world, where I never have to bury a child of mine again." As Jon is about to sit, he stops, have bent, lifts his head and says, "sorry if I was, rather, out of line." He turns to the Cascadian representative, "no hard feelings, eh mate?" he surfaces a smile and wink, and prepares himself for what would possibly be the biggest beratement of his life. But if there is something that brings a joyous smile across Jon's face, is callow leaders giving him their two cents about the world they know...
  10. Back on Hawaii, the Professor began debriefing Sergei and Samir on their part of the project.   “I know this will not please you both, as you both have grown particularly fond of each other’s company, but I am afraid I am going to have to separate you.” Professor Kainalu kept walking forward while the two exchanged sad, but understanding glances.   [spoiler] The professor had found Sergei in his travels abroad in Europe. He was an exceptionally brilliant mind, albeit an extraordinarily reserved person. Within their first year of working together, Sergei probably exchanged no more than 100 words with the Professor. The Professor brought Sergei in to work on geothermal heating, which evolved into a comprehensive desalination project, which lead to the introduction of Sergei and Kane, which lead to the unparalleled momentum of the Pacifican People’s  Future of Scientific Research Institution (P2 FuSR) Program that followed.   Samir, on the other hand was from Morocco. He spoke almost every North African language natively, European Languages competently (with the exception of English), and Asian and Russian languages controversially. He was a very skilled marksman and well trained operative. Sabotage, rather than stealth, was his main specialization, but Samir found the ability to excel in any mission provided the money was good.   When the Professor served a tour of duty as General before his retirement, he found himself lodging in a town not far from where Samir called his home. He heard rumors of a master soldier who was always looking for work. However, stories went that only those whom Samir would search for were worthy of his enterprise.Therefore, no one could search for “The Deathless” unless “The Deathless” willed it.   The General at the time boisterously proclaimed, “by the end of the week, I will have killed ‘The Deathless’ one!” and people were shocked by the proclamation. Surprisingly, not even Samir knew that the Professor had come to the town specifically to find him, and had for months prior, leaked information to that area in particular of his arrival. Such that, before he even made the claim in the bar that night, he already knew Samir was among the patrons in the building.   The pursuit was a game of cat and mouse. For every progressive step Samir accomplished, the General had predicted, and pushed him 2 steps back. This continued for 6 days, when that night, within the confines of a room across where the general was “supposed” to be, Samir positioned himself snuggly with an M40 he had purchased off the black market. A Zippo is lit in the room. Samir doesn’t move.   “This was fun, wasn’t it?” The general inquired lighting his cigar. Samir was dumbfounded, how did he not know he wasn’t alone?!   “Look, I am not actually here to kill you. I need your help.” Samir could not believe the words that he was hearing.   “Many of your contractors were conflicted interests in my campaigns here. They were crime lords, arms dealers, smugglers, and all around denizens of decency. I could not bring myself to wipe out my enemy on one battlefield and ignore one on another. You are unemployed within a 2500 mile radius, and this little mini project has broken your reserves.”   He tapped the ash of his cigar, and none of it landed on the floor in one piece. “For the son of well dressed servicemen and brilliant researcher, you have fallen far from the tree...Samir.”   Samir twirled, with a Walther P99 in his hands, but it was subsequently shot out by another person that was standing behind the general tucked well within the shadows.The General, didn’t even bat an eye. “You have much potential, and I knew your parents well. I don’t believe you’re the dog of war you’ve lead yourself to accept. Your parents wanted so much more for you…”   “What do you know about them!?” Samir snapped, holding his broken trigger finger close to his chest straining, but never ceasing to look at the general.   He sighed, “I am your godfather.” The silence in the room was deafening. The general let his godson take in the information while he got up and sat on the far corner of the bed that Samir was sitting on. Samir scooted away still completely shocked by the information. He slid him an envelope.   “I’ll wait for you outside.They’re yours to have,” the general left but didn’t have to wait long. A minute passed, and Samir left the room, closing the door softly behind him. He didn’t say a word, and his hair covered his tear besieged eyes. But no one said a word. After they had driven aways in the general’s Willys MB Jeep, Samir removed a detonator from his duffel bag, and ignited the building. It collapsed like a professional demolition, and the general looked back at the falling building, astounded.   “The building was empty, I owned it.”   “I knew that”, the general said a smile returning to his face as he placed his aviator shades back on, “I just hadn’t realized you had rigged the building with explosives.”   “You mean to tell me…” Samir thought realizing he had the upper hand the whole time.   The general just laughed, “I guess you’ve still got your father’s luck.” And the two rode beneath the North African moon to the base the General was stationed at before returning home to Hawaii for a more permanent stay.   That was 18 years ago.   Samir and Sergei developed an unforeseen bond, and the Professor never knew what to make of it. When the two were together, that is to say with the professor, they kept much to themselves, and hardly spoke a word to one another. But, when Sergei was working on a project, or Samir was out polishing his guns, or target practise, though from a distance, the Professor could see that the two would chat endlessly for hours.   One time, his curiosity getting the better of him, he asked Dr. Lekika Kāne,   “I never would have imagined that two complete strangers, who could grow so deep a bond for one another, have such indomitable discipline to not say a word to each other in public.” His voice was rather sing songy, and Dr. Kāne picked up on the intention right away.   “You want to know why they don’t talk around you, is that it Professor?” Dr. Kāne smiled behind the telescope she was looking through, but never brought her full attention to the Professor. He in turn sighed dramatically, “Well, I am just curious, but if you don’t want to tell me.” The professor made as if he were going to leave, and Dr. Kāne didn’t take the bait. She kept looking through her microscope, adjusting the zoom and clarity every now and then. The Professor sighed a defeated breath, before looking at a poster Dr. Kāne kept, ironically, hanging on the wall next to her laboratory goal. It read,   “Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.” -Aristotle   He mulled it over, catching the coincidence, but missing the deeper meaning.   “They are like sons to you, are they not?” Dr. Kāne said, raising her head at last from whatever it was she was studying. Now, it was the Professor’s turn to remain quiet and seemingly disinterested. Dr. Kāne stood up and walked over to a large, double set window that she used to give light and warmth to her favorite collection of plants (all gifts from the Professor). He joined her at her side, and they looked out to a private courtyard (that often saw the frequent walks of the Doctor. and Professor alike), and there, sitting at a stone table next to some exotic foliage and palm trees, the Professor witnessed the euphoric faces of Samir and Sergei exchanging words and holding hands. Two plates of half eaten food lay set aside while petals of the neighboring flowers were strewn haphazardly around them; whipping back and forth in the subtle breeze.   Dr. Kāne put her arms around the Professor’s shoulder, “love them then like a father.” He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it and said, “and you as though you were their mother.” [/spoiler]   “Samir, I need you to head to Malta. I know you do not like to travel, and you will forgive me, or not,” the Professor looked back slyly before facing forward again, “but you’ll be taking a tour of the North and East Africa coastline before settling within the country of South America. I hope to still have someone there. This will inform you of the rest of the details.” He handed him a black folder that was tied closed with a small red string.   “Read it, memorize it, imbue it’s contents, then discard of it permanently. It’s imperative you keep to every step of the document when you get to South America, but most importantly the itinerary.” He swiveled on his heel and turned to face Samir who almost ran into him. The Professor looked up at the man who towered him easily by two feet, and his eyes conveyed the immense gravity of the following words where is tone may have been insufficient, “I do not care if you have to walk without sleep, or murder every vehicle owned you dare come across. You get to these checkpoints,” the tone of the Professors past military life had crept through, and Samir stood at attention unconsciously. Realizing the error of his approach, eased up and grabbed Samir’s arm tenderly. He melted within the grasp.   “It’s very important Samir, you’ve never failed me, I do not believe you will now. But…” the Professor hesitated, looked down, and shook his head. He would have continued walking, but Sergei laid his hands on the Professors’ shoulder, and turning his body to face Sergie’s own, who had knelt down to be at eye level with the Professor, said the most he’s ever said in his life (at least to the Professor), “what’s wrong, papa?” It took everything within him to hold back the tears, and in truth, not a single droplet of moisture welled up in his eyes. “You know me,” he chuckled patting Sergei kindly on the face, “I never was able to handle stress well.” Sergei nodded, and stood back up while the Kainalu kept on walking, continuing his debriefing. But as children always know the honest condition of lying parents, Sergei and Samir exchanged looks that relayed equal skepticism to Kainalu’s response.   At the end, Sergei was told to see Dr. Kāne regarding the final touches of their desalination project. “There is another surprise she has for you,” and Sergie, like a child at Christmas, happily took his leave, but not before winking back at Samir. Samir mustered a twitch from the corner of his mouth, before averting his eyes to keep from blushing.   The Professor gave Samir some kind words of parting along with some advice, “Samir, I am proud of all that you are. If you were parents were here, they would be very proud too.” Samir nodded. typically. This wasn’t the first time Kainalu spoke to him this way, but no one is ever promised assurance of the future, and those who fall prey to complacency regret bitterly those moments they should have valued most. “But sometimes in life we leave one home and come back to another; exit a room to return to a different one entirely. When you parents passed away, you left a home of 3 to return to one of none. Yet still you returned. And when you were alone, I brought you here, and where once you had little now you have more. Despite your best efforts, or strongest wills, or most impassioned oath sworn, somethings are beyond us. Still, Samir,” he paused taking hold of his one hand with both of his, “no matter what, always come home.”   Samir was a little taken aback, but before any more words could be exchanged, the Professor scooted him out of his office, and Samir obliged though heavily reluctant. The Professor answered a telephone call, and began speaking to a representative of the other isalnds.   “Senator, yes, yes I was about to call you,” he put his hand over the mouthpiece motioning and wording to Samir to close the door behind him, “why of course I am still planning to attend your election ceremony. It would be my honor…”   As he closed the door behind him, Samir was left to ponder what the future could possibly have in store for not only himself, but for all the people of the Pacific. Holding onto the words shared so kindly with him, he unraveled the folder and began memorizing the contents within. He would soon enter a car that would ferry him to the International Airport and take the first flight to the Mediterranean to the council of the League of Nations.
  11. Ovidsidios

    Pacific Rim Conference

      [Forgive some of the liberties I take]   Impressed by the amount of detail that had gone into his equipment, Jon is able to follow the directions spoken through his helmet without a hitch. He lands the plane, but much to his dismay as he had forgotten that the plane had modifications to ensure greater flight capability, but not the greatest of ease in landing. He had assumed that the plane would require the same amount of distance to land as his older model. He was sadly mistaken. To his great surprise, the plane's internal computer had assessed the topographical layout of the landing pad, and calculating a severe discrepancy within the distance of the runway remaining and the velocity in which he was still going, dispensed an emergency landing chute, and within seconds (with only a handful of meters remaining before the end of the turnaround point) managed to stop his aircraft and proceed within the taxiing lane. The control tower must have berated him for some disregard to safety measures instructed, but he had already removed the helmet and could not understand the faint voice speaking to him from his audio panels.   Once within the hanger, he was introduced to what he presumed was his translator. "No doubt to keep meh frum sounding like a complete idiot, roight professuh?" He thought, making fun of a fond memory he and the once general had at a diplomatic encounter gone terribly ary. If it hadn't been for the general's good humor, they would have made some terrible friends that day.   "Mr. Jon, I had not realized you spoke so fluent Japanese."   "I don't mistah translata, so you best keep close." The gentleman was stunned at the conflict of realities, and was now trying to recover and keep up to pace with Jon who moved hastily, lead by yet another assumption, to a vehicle in which they were to travel in. "This it?" Jon asked, completely manhandling what was supposed to have been a thoroughly practised encounter and introduction. The man, completely out of his element, could only nod trying to pick up where he left off.   "We are most honored that you..."   "Listen, do me a fava will ya? Let me do the talking, and you just listen, o'right?" The man felt embarrassed and bowed trying to apologize, but Jon was having none of that.   "Look, I get you've probably gone to some fancy school and have had to deal with snobby little pricks who think their !@#$ smells like the queens pudding, but I'm not a diplomat. I'm a damn pilot. So if you want to fly with me, your gonna treat me like a damn soldja. O'right? Now get in the ca', we're already late as it is." The man was bewildered and speechless, and in truth, Jon could feel the shame rushing to this man's face. Even Jon couldn't hold back his empathy and extending his arm grabbed the man's hand and shook it firmly. "In my country, we greet all living souls as equals. It's been a long flight, and I didn't mean to snap at ye." The man shook his hand, but Jon could see that the man was still very flustered. Suddenly remembering a joke he had learned from his last stay in Japan, he took a gamble.   “Do you like jokes? I heard this the last time I came to your country.   During a funeral, the pallbearers accidentally bump into a wall and hear a faint moan. They open the casket and find out that the woman is actually alive. She lives for 10 more years and then dies. There is another funeral for her. At the end of the service, the pallbearers carry out the casket. As they are walking out, the husband cries out, ‘Watch out for the wall!’   The man cackles loudly, and immediately, smiling from ear to ear, nods appreciatively to Jon, accepting the gesture as both the apology it was meant to be, and seizging the opportunity to return to his role as guide and translator. This time Jon lets him.   The man, though still bound by his duty to serve as a professional emissary from the Empress, lightens up on many of expected protocols, and Jon is visibly grateful for this. Their banter is light, friendly, and everything Jon needed to go over his mental plan seeing as he hadn’t the slightest idea why the Professor thought him fit for this to begin with.   Upon arriving, the translator guides him through the courtyard, and into the lobby. Having gotten to know Jon a little, he spared all the details of the history and artwork (of which Jon appreciated immensely, albeit without recognizing the man’s prudence).   they have already started as you know, but I figured, since her majesty is expecting your arrival, she will not mind if we simply enter. He looked at the two bodyguards, explained Jon had been checked twice, once at the airport and again upon entering the building, one of the guards in turn spoke some words into his mouthpiece. They made a gesture and the translator bowed. He returned back to Jon, “Actually, the Empress will be out to meet you. I take it you understand the proper etiquette for greeting the Empress?”   Jon nodded subtly, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. He wasn’t nervous, nor had he anything to be nervous about, but for some strange reason and creeping feeling of insecurity swept his body. A hot breath seem to press itself against his neck and a very strange image burned itself on the back of his eyes. A crescent split across his vision, some details beginning to burn through, suddenly two circles, now the teeth, a smile, the eyes were starting to form. Why was this face so familiar? Why was it possessing him so? What was this feeling. He closed his eyes pinching the bridge of his nose. there can be no redemption…   Whispered words he had never heard before. Suddenly images of a sea aflame, people’s terrible cries piercing his mind, death and ruin everywhere...and then...a body slumped over the ground....could it be?!...PROFESSOR!   He inhaled quickly, snapping out of the trans. It looked like he was just exhaling through a minor headache, and shrugged off the concerned looks of his most recently made friends. “I’m alright,” he added casually, “be easy.” The man in turn relaxed as they both awaited the mostly anticipated arrival of the Empress he had been sent to see.
  12. Ovidsidios

    Pacific Rim Conference

    Jon checked his instrument panel, he had noticed he had been tagged several thousand kilometers. Apparently his electronic systems had an “echo” adapter to detect when radar was being bounced of his hull. He had begun to notice the form of the continent and had begun his initial approach procedures before realizing one crucial mistake.   “I don’t speak Japanese,” he blurted in surprise, “well this is gonna be awkward.” Suddenly he began receiving radio transmissions for what he could only imagine was the landing protocol. Suddenly, out of the top right hand corner of his helmet, he saw a small blinking red light, and then, the voice coming in through his helmet, was now perfectly calibrated to an understandable english.   “This is Lightning One Eight Nine Yankee Romeo, Information INDIA.  Inbound for landing.” He couldn’t check his parcel whether or not that was the right code for invitation arrival, but I’m sure someone was bound to ask questions concerning a lone F35 unarmed fighter making its way to a very populated area.   That, or he was in for some serious trouble. “Don’t worry about this,” he thought, “can’t forget to trust in the professor.” With that, he awaited for the control tower to guide him on his entry. [OOC inb4 “bow-chic-a-bow-wow”]
  13. Jon stepped out of the car that drove nonstop to the military naval base located in the major harbor on the principle island. The duffel bag had been awaiting him in the car, and he spent most of the hour and 45 minutes reading all the contents within the parcel.   Jon was finally dropped off in front of the renovated Pearl Harbor. The Plains Federation’s initial headway in regards to that long awaited project was one of the leading causes for the Free People’s liberation movement. The Federation provided the foresight, and the Pacifican people’s granted all the earnest support. Though the Federation agreed to abandon the project halfway, the act was an opportunity for the Pacifican People to merit their own sovereign autonomy. In the end, it only strengthened a respect between the Pacifican People and the Plains Federation.     When the car arrived at the security gates, he tucked everything back in the parcel, and the parcel within his full body coat. He was advised not to take any weapons, and so, despite every inkling of natural instinct crying out for him to disobey, he traveled the lightest he's ever traveled in his life.   Jon was greeted with the doors opened for him by two Chief Petty Officers. They both saluted him as he stepped out the car. Flanking both his sides, they escorted him up the country’s first constructed aircraft carrier, Liberame. At the top of the ramp, there awaited him Captain Moses. Next to Captain Moses, were several uniformed, high ranking officers as well as a slick, sharply dressed, “man in black”. He carried a vintage suitcase and an extraordinarily ornate ring. Jon had never seen this man before, but the very fibers of his being felt nothing but trepidity for this fellow, and swore to either stay clear or stay vigilant while around him.   He seemed to hate most his smile.   Once on board, he was briefed on the remainder of the plan by the captain as they walked to their rendezvous point.   "Welcome Jon, good to have you flying with us again" greeted the captain of the Liberame. "I take it you have a general grasp of our situation?"   "Aye," responded Jon in his native Australian accent. He tried to keep it nonexistent while on the mainland (but he couldn't help let loose when back on the seas), "and I take it ye kept her noice and neat, yea?"   "Aye," responded the captain endearingly. "We happen to know her Majesty has quite an extensive array of relays between her threshold and the mainland. So we'll be a little off our tandem point..."   "How fa?" inquired Jon as they rounded a corner and down a set of stairs to below the main flight deck. There they hopped into an elevator that took them the rest of the way.   "Approximately 1,000 km off our initial tandem location." The tension within the elevator peaked. The Captain did not like it anymore than Jon, and Jon didn’t like sharing this information, let alone the room within the elevator, with an individual who made him feel so uneasy.   “So who’s the newbie?” Jon asked completely ignoring the gentleman.   “Special interests group,” he replied ignoring Jon’s neglect. He extended his hand, of which Jon shook reluctantly.   The elevator could not have opened at a more opportune moment, and Jon, seizing it, stepped out followed quickly by the captain. He made no delay and, within one of the mobile transports, accompanied by the captain and company, rode down the massively large corridor towards where his plane awaited him.   “Just as you left it, with” the captain hastily added upon arriving at the plane, “those modifications you requested. Although, I must admit, many of them were impossible to come by. If it wasn’t for this man…” the captain paused, and squintingly turned to the mysterious gentleman, “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”   “It’s irrelevant really,” the man replied curtly, “your fifth generation F-35 Lightning (II) has undergone the specific renovations. However, some of the modifications were not possible with the logistical schematics you provided. So I took the liberty…”   “You touch ma burd?” Jon snapped turning to face the man. His glare was formidable, but this man’s eyes seemed to sap the strength from his gusto, and for the first time in his life, Jon felt very vulnerable...and afraid. The man refrained from smiling aswell.   “It would be imprudent of me to call your engineering inexperienced…”   “Yet still you do…”   “...however, for certain technological adjustments a few physical modifications were necessary. But do not take my word for it,” the gentleman pointed his finger and though hesitant, Jon turned. From a distance those repairs seemed negligible, but upon closer review, there were indeed some significant modifications.   “For starters,” the man said following Jon at a respectable distance as they lapped the plane, “the wing span has been increased and the plane has been supplemented with an augmented  fiber for your desired stealth capacity. With that in mind, your payload, though capable of far more with the greater increase of your wingspan, has instead been implemented with an communications relay amplifier. It comes with it’s own encryptor which itself works within a prototype quantum processor. You therefore have a little more detail to your own personal radar since the augmentation device also amplifies your scanners, and your module comes with a topographical setting for your lower than necessary flights.”   Jon didn’t realize how informed this man was to his flying style, still, he ignored him.   “You’ll also note that, though you still have a single main jet engine, it has been divided into four sub engines...”   “You took the aerial strafing principle seriously?” Jon interjected concerning an old paper he jokingly wrote during his academy years. “Who is this man?” he thought.   “...actually, no. I’ve reviewed your training footage. Your skill is best left with a control column rather than an ink one.” The Captain stifled a snicker. “The four sub engines will allow for greater mobility on a 3-Dimensional level, although not as radical as you might think. Your navigation system will take your movements into account, and adjust engine output to better accentuate your motions. It is automated, a manual setting if you so desire, and of course comes with an off button.” At this point the mysterious man starts to take point in the tour, and Jon does not seem to object.   “This carrier variant will allow you for longer, farther flights. The technological improvements rendered are those concerning your active interceptor system, fuel and prognostic health management system, as well as your CNI subsystem. Your helmet mounted display is now multi-functional, and has been programmed to allow for several sub rooted informational displays including ADS (Air Data System), INS (Internal Navigation System), vehicle systems, mission system, and electro-optical targeting system. Your plane has an adjusted brake system for use with arrestor wires, but…” the gentleman stopped and turned to look at Jon who stood mesmerized at the impressive instrument that stood before him, “some things are better experienced than learned.”   Jon let his eyes fall slowly from wings, to engine, to cockpit, to landing gear, back to the wings before finally settling on the mysterious man. “How is it again you’ve come to work with the Professor?”   “I am an old friend of his uncle, and I am here to ensure their dream comes to pass. A dream of a united people. Isn’t that enough?”   It never would be enough for Jon, but for now, it would have to do.   “Captain, you mind if I take ‘er f’er a spin?” The captain nodded and Jon jumped back onto the motorized cart to his personal quarters where he knew his suit awaited him. The captain and the suited man took a separate vehicle and headed to the bridge.   The aircraft carrier had made it’s final approach to Japanese waters. Jon had accustomed himself greatly to the calibrations of his new flight. “I don’t know who worked on this baby” he thought during one of his final test laps while the carrier approached its drop off point, “but man this has seen some major modifications.” He kept running through the flights in his head, the landing and the take off, the maneuverability, and the new technological specs (the helmet was a little overwhelming at first, but he adapted quickly, and found the additions to his display to be more than adequate). As he waited for the confirmation to take off, his thoughts reverted back to the professor. Thoughts of struggle and sadness; thoughts that eventually lead him back to the mysterious figure, the suited man...the fiend.   “You ready to go?” came the clear voice of the captain from the command bridge.   “Aye” came Jon’s collected voice, “initiating departure clearance protocol.   Austin Clearance Delivery, Lightning One Eight Nine Yankee Romeo” the latter always brought a smile to his face, “with information India, VFR to target location, cruising five thousand five hundred.”   “Lightning One Eight Nine Yankee Romeo, Austin Clearance, squawk two three one four, departure frequency will be one two zero point niner.”   “Squawk two three one four,” Jon radioed in return, “departure one two zero point niner, Nine Yankee Romeo.”   After several minutes of readbacks and taxiing, Jon’s aircraft was ready for launch. Despite all the practise earlier, the butterflies were slowly creeping into his stomach. Initiating full throttle, with the assistance of the newly improved Electromagnetic Aircraft Launch System, Jon was in the air with both grace and force.   As his flyer departed from view, he received the last of his transmissions,   “Lightning One Eight Nine Yankee Romeo, radar service terminated, squawk one two zero zero, frequency change approved.”   “Squawk VFR, Seven Echo Sierra” Jon spoke back, and as the communications terminated he moved his lips to the same pattern as the captain, whose final image was the fading speck of man’s infinitude.   God Speed