Colonel “Reapers” Edge
I picked up my journal and pen. It had to have been three am or so. Sweat beads were scattered across my forehead. I wrote slow. “Have you ever seen your life in a dream? A world that felt real, looked real, but at the same time, wasn't?” I wiped the sweat away from my forehead and kept writing “I have. It’s funny though, when I signed up for the 110th Fighter Squadron, the then “Ace” squadron leader told me, “If you’re going to fly with me,” His eyes sharp, “You better be fearless and do exactly as I say EXACTLY when I say it.” That day I looked at him and said I was ready.” I hesitated writing the next part “Today I saw it again, in my dream. They say being shot down as an ace is honorable, but, now I think it’s scary.” I almost lost my composure right there “My name is McDonald Edge, squadron leader of the 110th Fighter Squadron, or the Reaper Squadron and today is my last day I hold that position.”

Operation “Reaper”
-July 4th, 2034, 13:45, Eastern Coastline-
The situation by the time my squadron had arrived on scene of the unidentified airborne attack had gone from bad to foobard. Fighter jets and bombers were all over the Washington D.C, New York, New Jersey airspace diving down and attacking every house, business, beach, boardwalk in sight. Half of the allied air force from the aircraft carrier Enfield had been shot down on takeoff and the rest were retreating. Thoughts raced around in my head, but not for long. “Reaper One this is U.S AWACs Omega Wolf, callsign Omega, unidentified fighter and bomber squadron has been wreaking havoc along the Eastern Coastline! You are clear to engage at will, another allied squadron will come to meet you shortly, E.T.A ten minutes!” That woke me up fast, and I flipped my visor down and engaged my H.U.D. Enemy Fighters spotted us instantly and it didn't take long for my c***pit alarm to blare at me that a hostile missile was hurdling toward my F-22 Raptor. I punched flares and evaded the missile, my squad mates did the same and the dogfight began.

We lasted no more than five minutes. Four planes was simply not enough against this unidentified attacker. We were outnumbered 10 to 1… Reaper 3 was the first to be shot down. I watched in horror as he tried to eject after two XN-34 fighter jets shot two radar guided missiles at him and they made direct impact. Reaper 2 and 4 took to my side and we tried to engage the remaining attack force in front of us. Whoever these pilots were they were trained, and trained better than us. Omega called out to us shortly after Reaper 3 was shot down. “Reaper one, Second wave of fighters inbound engage and destroy all hostiles!” No reaction, no emotion given to the fact Reaper 3 was downed and dead. The second wave was worse than the first. They were aces and their flying showed they were. Soon Reaper 3 and 4 were gone, both hit by heatseekers and forced to eject. I couldn’t see them as they parachuted to the ground. Soon I was all alone, my H.U.D kept telling me I was being tracked on radar, yet no missiles were fired at me. Twelve XN-34 fighters and 10 Su-47 multi-role fighters were behind me. One XN-34 flew forward next to my left wing, just like in my dream… A heavy Russian voice came over my headset, “Hello Colonel Reaper! Pleasure to meet you da? Sorry we had to meet like this colonel, but I believe this sky belongs to me now.” My dream… My fake reality was coming true? A dream is just a dream. The other fighters parted and I could see the two Hawk Eyes of the XN-34 of the “Russian” pilot. Omega desperately asked me for a status report. The missile warning went off as I responded to Omega as I remember in my dream. “Splash… Reaper One.” and then the missile struck.
After world
A gentle breeze blew over the once lush coastline. A newspaper slapped the sand as the breeze carried it across the beach. The headline read “U.S Eastern Coastline invaded! Russia declares war on the United States after Russian Minister was shot by U.S extremists” The newspaper stopped as the breeze did, a man picked it up and read the headline. He frowned and ripped it up, threw it down, and then looked back at the F-22 wreckage before him, the pilot's body was gone. All that was left was the Reaper's scythe logo on the tail, scarred by the missile strike inflicted upon it.