"Let Operation Trojan Horse begin," I said into the walkie-talkie.

"Understood," The voice on the other end said. I heard the roaring sound of jets as they began to take off from the field nearby. A total of six jets left one after another before falling into a V-shaped formation behind the plane.

As the loud noises of the jets began to reverberate through the desolate area, the spy planes, clearly aware of the approaching threat, began to change course. There was a trail of clouds from behind the wings of the plane as they began to speed up.

As they approached nearer, they began to fire some warning shots.

"Pilot 1, can you keep your walkie-talkie on and communicate with the spy jets?" I asked into the walkie-talkie.

I heard a small click and some static before a voice broke through. "You're on sir,"

I did a small cough to clear my throat. "Attention pilots, as you can see, you're surrounded by six fighter jets. Land or deadly force will be used."

"Eat shit," A voice responded.

I blinked a few times before smiling. "Okay, have it your way."

Looking into the sky, the pilots were weaving unpredictably to shake off the squadron. They were trying their best, yet it was in vain. They were up against the best pilots in the Royal Air Force.

The pilots quickly adapted as they began to dance through the sky and follow the spy planes.

The next thing I knew, I saw several flares being launched into the sky, blinding the pilots.

"Sir, we've lost visual!" They said over the walkie-talkie.

The spy planes, despite launching a distraction, made no attempt to move away. In fact, they began slowing down rapidly. They were planning on suicide.

"Pilots! Begin moving downwards! They're planning on suicide!" I said quickly into the walkie-talkie. Immediately, the planes began to slowly dip. They still kept their same horizontal speed and it was impossible to tell if they were going to collide.

They inched closer and closer, seconds away from meeting. As time passed, everything seemed in slow motion. My eyes narrowed on the distant objects as they approached each other.

3

2

1

I counted in my head, estimating the collision. But it seems Lady Luck was on our side today as it narrowly missed. When the planes went below, some moved to the right while others moved to the left.

These pilots had good situational sense. They knew exactly what to do without me telling them. When they surrounded the sides of the aircraft, they began to fire small purple lights.

Guns here didn't use bullets but rather a person's mana. It makes sense when you think about it as bullets are limited. Mana, while having a limit, is higher than that of a bullet. You can channel your mana into a gun and shoot it.

The sound of the bullets hitting the metal echoed throughout the empty desert. I heard it five, ten, fifteen times. It didn't stop.

Eventually, the stress of the damage was too much as the plane began to rapidly descend downwards.

I clenched my fist in anticipation. Their suicidal tendency wasn't something I expected and it could ruin a contingency.

I nervously gulped as my eyes followed the planes down and down.

Nature gives us one valuable instinct: survival. Even if you're suicidal, in the moments before death, your body fights for survival. Your life flashes before your eyes as you start to feel emotions like regret and shame. You gasp for breath even though you know it will never come.

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These were the thoughts going through the Spanish pilot's minds as they were descending. The pit in their stomach only amplified their internal struggle before they finally made the decision to eject.

I let out a quick breath and unclenched my fist. I was breathing heavily from the adrenaline that was going through me.

"Begin ground intervention," I said into the walkie-talkie before setting it on the table and facing the team.

"We're moving onto Phase 2."

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"Alright everyone, gather around," I said loudly. Their conversations began to slowly die out before they returned to their seats and started to pay attention again.

The effects of the break were immediate. I saw that they looked more focused and more critical. It warmed my very dark heart when I saw this. Maybe I should become a teacher.

"Okay," I began as I remembered the points I needed to talk about. "As soon as communication goes down, we use this opportunity to employ a Trojan Horse."

"What is a Trojan Horse?" Leo asked.

"A group of people called the Greeks were in a battle with the people of Troy. One day, they built a hallow horse filled with soldiers and gave it to the Trojans," I said. I took a seat at the table and faced them with a small smile. Even though it was a myth, it was one that you had to admire. An insane strategy filled with deception.

"The moment they accepted the gift was the moment they lost the war. At night, the Greeks exited the horse and attacked the Trojans, ending the war."

I looked at them with a big gleam in my eye and a knowing smile. "In order to get into the enemy's territory, we have to make them think that we're one of them."

I moved away from the whiteboard as photographs of planes were tapped on.

"These two jets will carry three each plus a cadaver and a backpack containing all the supplies we need," I said as I tapped on the photographs. "These are identical models to the spy planes. We'll use these to fly in."

"Won't they ask what happened?" Hanson asked. "If they suddenly stop talking to each other, won't they be skeptical?"

"That's why I'm going to be in one jet and his highness-" I said a bit mockingly. "-will be on the other. We'll do the talking."

"And what happens when we land? Won't they be waiting for us?" The shopkeeper asked.

I laughed madly at his question. I was about to get to that point. I knew that it would sound the most insane when you compare it to all the others I've been telling them about.

"Who said that we're landing?"

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We all began moving to a hangar with the two jets. In the week and a half of preparation, a lot of the serial numbers were changed to match the spy jets.

We split into two groups:, Leo and Hanson were the first. Michael, the shopkeeper, and Andres were the second.

All of us quickly scrambled to get into the jet. We grabbed the backpacks needed and put them on while climbing aboard. It was a bit of a cramped fit. It was originally designed to support three people max.

The cadaver was the hardest to place. It was uncomfortable sitting next to it and no one wanted to be near it. We quickly tried different spots for it until we eventually settled for the back and Leo and Hanson would share the seat.

I wondered how the other group was planning on doing it. In hindsight, it was probably something we should've thought about before. Oh well, too late for that now!

I went into the pilot seat and began flipping switches and checking that everything was in working order. When I was done with the checklist, we began to take off.

"How many hours before we get there?" Hanson complained as he shifted in the seat.

"Around an hour and a half," I said with an amused chuckle.

"We have to sit next to this dead body for the next hour and a half?!" Leo exclaimed.

"I mean, if it were a real person, things would be messier and a lot more complicated," I said.

I moved around in the seat to find a better position. I moved the backpack to the front in between my legs. When I finally found the position, I began to settle in and relax.

Looking behind us, I saw Michael slowly trailing us. I unzipped the backpack and took out one of several walkie-talkies. "How are you guys doing?"

The walkie-talkie buzzed as the familiar British-accented voice spoke. "Good, all things considered."

"Alrighty," I said. "Buckle in. We have an hour and a half to mentally prepare ourselves for what happens next," I talked both to Hanson and Leo and into the walkie-talkie. Upon hearing no response, I set it on the dashboard and slightly leaned back on my chair.

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"I'm sorry, you said we're not landing," Andres said. "How else are we getting off the plane? Jumping out?"

"Yup," I said. While he was saying it sarcastically, I was being fully serious.

"You're kidding?" He asked, exacerbated.

"They're going to be waiting for us the moment we land, so we have to leave before then. The best way is to jump out with a parachute."

I directed their attention to a drawing of a man in a parachute as well as some arrows that indicated drag.

I took out a small model. "These will slow your fall down so you can land safely. Just pull on this and," I pulled on the tab as the parachute deployed and instantly unfolded.

I threw it in the air to demonstrate. When it started falling, the parachute began to slow down rapidly, making it in the air far longer than they expected.

"And that is Operation Trojan Horse," I concluded. "Any questions?"

Leo raised his hand. I pointed to him and he began to speak. "Where are we landing?"

A wide smile crept on my face. "Two places that will lead us into the two steps of the plan. Spain and France."