Location: Idaho, USA

Unit: 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment–Delta, US Army

Date: July 21th, 2021 CE

The Master Sergeant slammed his helmet into the seat, "Where the fuck are those pilots?"

Jackson jumped out of the JLTV following his Master Sergeant, "Sir, you don't want to do this!"

The Operator wasn't listening, storming into the hangar bay he stopped as he saw a MiG29 with a very popular symbol pasted on the side, a frozen skull. The cockpit popped open revealing a male figure. Standing in his cockpit, he eyed the Operators before climbing out. On the left side of his helmet, he bears a blue and yellow illustration of a flag.

Climbing over the side the pilot looked at the Operator before clenching his fist, "You're lucky," he spoke two words before storming off.

Jackson's eyes widened realising who they had just spoken to, "It's not possible is it?" the Operator gulped.

The Master Sergeant was in a state of shock and disbelief, "The Artic Ghost... was that pilot."

Turning around, he left the hangar. Jackson followed.

***

"I knew that escort squadron was something special, but..." Jackson paused.

Another soldier took a forkful from his plate, "You didn't expect it to be the Ghost?" he chuckled, "Yeah none of us did, last thing I heard was he was raiding NZA facilities and factories in China."

The twenty soldiers sat at a table in the base's mess hall. Having been eating Field Ration packs for the last week, this food was like heaven. Instead of eating out of the water-warmed packets, they now had real plates.

The Operator talking to Jackson, leaned closer, "Hey does Sarge seem different to you?"

Jackson spoke calmly through each bite, "Yeah it was when he noticed the pilot was a hero of humanity."

Several Operators started to snicker around Jackson after he made that comment.

Across the hall sat the three remaining A10 pilots assigned to the mission along with the remaining Hussars, minus Wolf who was currently being treated in the infirmary. They all sat in silence mourning their losses.

One of the A10s pilots finally spoke, "What the hell happened out there?"

Ghost stirred his coffee before replying, "We had spotted what we now know to be the AA but were given orders to not engage by the convoy."

Another A10 pilot gripped his spoon tightly, "So you knew about a possible threat?"

Ghost nodded, "We asked to check it out, but were told to keep going as the convoy didn't see it as a point of interest."

The A10 pilot spoke again, "I'm gonna have a word with command."

Ghost chuckled, "Don't worry, I already have, when he arrives that Master Sergeant is going to be in for a..." he paused, "very bad time."

The A10 pilot raised an eyebrow preparing to respond just as a message came through Ghosts radio, "Hotel-3 please report to the laboratory within five minutes."

Ghost sighed, "Excuse me."

Standing up, he left the canteen and headed to the lab. Walking through the old hallways, he noticed small marks left by previous base inhabitants. One of these ancient messages said the phrase 'Fortune Favours the Bald like General Patton, eh?' and next to it was a response, 'Chair Force'. As Ghost walked past he gave a little chuckle before shaking his head, which put him in a much better mood.

This facility had been created back in the early 1970s in case of a Soviet invasion of the US homeland. This was due to their weakening military after it was revealed to the public the losses that the army was taking and the Viet Cong's growing advantage due to soldiers who weren't ready to fight a jungle war and US commanders underestimating their enemies.

The facility was mostly underground with just the runway and a single hanger above surface level, when needed aircraft would use several lifts to exit onto the runway before a hasty take-off.

Ghost walked through the underground hallways exiting into the hangar in which several engineers were working furiously on cleaning and maintaining the fighter aircraft.

"Oi, Ghosty," a posh British accent called out, "Get in here!"

Ghost turned his head, and next to him stood Mech. Mech was the head of maintaining advanced equipment; like that used in the captured enemy aircraft. Ghost waved at him before running into a small separate garage, known to the base folk as SuperWeapon Activation Basement or Swab.

"You found anything?" Ghost asked.

Mech nodded, "I need to show you something quickly," he turned away before walking towards the skeletal contraption in the middle of the room, around it sheets of metal stretched across the floor, "What do you notice?"

Ghost walked forward, looking into the inside, there seemed to be something that looked like it was once a seat, but now it was missing its central cushion so there was just a C-like hole with one of the widths being closer to the other in the centre while further out on the left and right.

"It looks like a fighter cockpit, which has been torn to shreds, most likely by your team," Ghost remarked, "Look there are no panels and it's pure steel."

Mech smiled, "It does seem like that..." he paused, "But we haven't touched any of the interiors and this is the cockpit of a Flashhog."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Flashhog was the NATO designation for the NZA fighter aircraft.

Ghost scratched his chin, "I see, but who in their right mind would want to pilot one of these?"

Mech grinned ear to ear, "Not who, it's what!" the mechanic pulled up a screen, "We believe the pilot to have been an AI... but not just an AI, an AI with a moving working body, we currently have this idea of what it could be."

He showed the image of a set of steel legs and box-shaped arms along with an armoured chest but no face.

Mech was ecstatic, "The NZA cracked this... this incredible feat! How on earth did they do this with the resources just with access to."

Ghost raised an eyebrow, "They probably only have a few of these, it's probably one of their wunderwaffe."

Mech shook his head, "I doubt it, highly," He stared straight into Ghost's eyes, "You remember how you always claim the enemy is extremely robotic and predictable a good 80% of the time?"

Ghost nodded, wanting to see where the mechanic was going with this.

The mechanic continued, "What if, they were attempting to predict you and counter your movements using maths and logic, but in fighter combat, everyone knows that you have to have a sixth sense to survive! Think of them like the German V1s, this is the first generation of pilotless aircraft to see active fighter combat, just like the doodlebug was the first missile in military use."

"I see," Ghost thought to himself, "But the V series rockets were pointless and mostly a waste of time as the axis never got nukes."

Going back to the screen, he looked again, "Yes, that was my next thought, so either our enemy has the resources to spare, or they have put everything into this project!"

Ghost sighed, "I really hope it's the second one."

Suddenly, someone bounced off the doorframe into the room, "Mclaw's back!"

Ghost looked between the new arrival and the head mechanic confused. Mech spun around, dragging a steel table that looked like it might fit in an autopsy room.

"Get him down here with the package now!" Mech demanded.

Spinning around, the messenger ran out of sight. Ghost walked out the door nearly being knocked to the side by several other mechanics and cleaning crew members. The base had sprung to life.

"GET OUT THE WAY!" A noticeably American voice called out.

A small group of battered soldiers ran through the hangar carrying something human-like.

Ghost's jaw dropped, "It can't be?"

As the soldiers approached he started to recognise them, the soldier at the front was Richards who looked like he'd been slashed several times with an extremely thin blade. All he had left were two sixty-round magazines of the original three which would fit on his vest. Over his left shoulder, he carried an unloaded M4 which may be mistaken for a high-quality civilian AR15 at first sight.

Behind him carrying a shiny metallic object was the ex-Gorkha, Soman, and another American man, Gibson. The small group passed Ghost giving him a good look at the object, the object had limbs and a torso, but nothing above the head. It looked extremely similar to the predictions Mech made, was this perhaps... the pilot?

They entered the room, throwing the steel carcass on the table. Ghost attempted to approach but was immediately stopped by Soman.

"No you don't," she shook her head, "Mclaw wants you in room four."

Ghost tilted his head, "Why?"

Soman shrugged, "Zero clue, get going."

Ghost sighed turning around and leaving the main hanger into one of the side corridors. Approaching room four he was about to knock on the door when he heard something. It was a crack and a groan.

Then a familiar voice came, "You gonna try that again?" the voice paused, "Your actions got several pilots KIA or MIA, what are you going to say for yourself?"

Suddenly another cry out in pain came before a spluttering.

"What do you say?" The voice repeated.

A second voice came, "I-I'm sorry, I am at fault."

The floorboard creaked as someone got to their feet.

Ghost stepped back as the door opened. Locking eyes with the Delta Force Master Sergeant. The Operator had a mark over his eye. The Operator shook his head and as he turned to leave, Ghost noticed a mark on the back left of his neck, it was 'IV'. It looked to be fresh, it was a brand.

Ghost felt a cold breeze of air enter the hallway sending a shiver down the man's spine, he wondered what he was getting into, what Mclaw was truly capable of. Would this man truly brand one of his allies?

Ghost froze saying one word, "Reaper."

He suddenly remembered Mclaw's callsign. A word that struck fear into the enemy, no matter who they were, whenever they were in his presence, they would crack. Was there more to the callsign than fear? Were there real grounds to why the enemy feared him? Was it because Mclaw didn't have a line?

Mclaw's voice echoed in the corridor, "Enter."

Ghost took one pace forward, then another, then another.

He paused; looking around the room he noticed it was extremely metallic. Strangely metallic. Most walls in the base were made from stone. To Ghost, it just seemed... off.

Mclaw raised an eyebrow, "Hurry up and sit down, I don't have all day."

Ghost did as instructed, still eying up the shiny steel shelves. On the shelf to his right sat six British Victoria Crosses, two George Crosses, one US Medal of Honor along with several other medals Ghost did not recognise. The shelf above was just about as strange with several blades and sidearms put on display, consisting of a Nambu, C96, Browning Hi-power, Webley along with an almost shattered Russian Makarov.

Mclaw looked through a file on his desk, "So you lost three A10s and one F35?"

"Correct Sir," Ghost said bluntly.

Mclaw stood up and scratched his chin, "How?"

Ghost nodded, still keeping a straight face, "We were ambushed by enemy Anti Air Cannons, due to the Convoy leader not allowing us to break away and investigate."

Mclaw stood by the shelves looking at his pistol collection, "I see, tell me about this AA gun."

Ghost responded immediately, "I noticed a bright light," he paused thinking back to the ambush, "It came from deep in the forest, then the light faded, immediately after a single bolt of what seemed to be an extremely warm material flew right past me hitting the first A10."

Mclaw scratched his chin, muttering to himself, "A railgun?"

Ghost raised an eyebrow, "A what, sir?"

Mclaw didn't answer, he walked past Ghost's chair to the other side of the room turning on a screen, "We encountered this during our time with the Las Vegas militia."

On the board, popped up the schematics for a long rifle connected to what looked like a radio backpack at first sight.

Ghost scratched his chin, "What am I looking at."

"We believe it to be a weapon that uses electromagnetic forces to propel its projectile, or more simply its a railgun," Mclaw answered, "It's powered by that huge backpack which transports power into the rifle through a cable."

Ghost looks at it closely, "Do you still have the recovered one in storage?"

Mclaw nodded, "Not in storage, it's currently being tested at an isolated but high protected military base up north," Mclaw tapped a button on the edge of the screen and the picture flipped to a video, "However, watch this."

The video started to play revealing the working railgun sniper rifle, a tester gripped both the pistol grip and the plastic covering the barrel.

The camera kept its focus as the rifle swayed up and down, the shooter pulled back a small handle on the side of the weapon, similar to the L85A1s it was shaped as a simple circle connected to the rifle. The small circle slammed forward letting off a clicking sound, then another sound started, a buzzing, the muzzle started to brighten then it went dark again.

Someone in the video spoke, "Five projectiles loaded, open fire."

The shooter closed his finger around the trigger and slightly pulled it to the point of most resistance, he increased his finger strength before the trigger clicked. The muzzle flashed with a bright white light and a beam of light led by a small steel projectile flew through the air. Flying dead straight, it hit its target.

As the smoke faded it revealed a huge hole in the concrete wall.

Ghost's eyes widened, looking at the damage, "It sure looks similar, but the one we came against was bigger and did more damage and had a longer range."

Mclaw nodded, "I guessed that, but this is interesting," Mclaw sat down on his chair and pulled up the folder, "you're dismissed get out of here."

As Ghost turned to leave his eyes caught a glimpse of the file name, 'Operation Submerged.' The pilot quickly turned his head and left the room.

He stood outside the office and closed the door behind him, just as the door shut he felt a cold breeze. Slamming his back against the wall he let out several quick breaths.

Then he thought to himself, 'Should I be terrified of Mclaw?'