[color=8882be][i]Someone was calling, or were they telling him to stay away? He couldn't be sure, he was lost in a dream, fighting alone in a sky full of allied fighters, he was running low on fuel and ammunition and still they just kept coming, endless wave upon wave of hostile fighters. His radio was silent, save for a slight his of static, he wished he knew what to do, He'd survived so far by sticking to the heavy cloud cover all around, but no matter where he went there were enemies waiting for him. above and below the deck, enemies scoured the sky for him, hunting and occasionally glimpsing his battered fighter. He'd lost most of his tail plane, making yawing all but impossible. His engine was leaking oil, and smoke, his instruments were almost all worthless now, only his compass and radio still worked. However, since he'd long since lost track of where he was, he no longer knew which way was home... He was lost, and running out of time, soon we would die, by man or by gravity, perhaps by both. With sudden sputtering, his engine consumed the last of his fuel, and he realized that eventually had arrived, he would be dead in minutes... and there was nothing that he could do about it. 

Suddenly his radio crackled to life, "Allo?" his heart raced and he responded eagerly ... but no further sound came through his headset. He wanted desperately to get some response but nothing seemed to rouse the broadcaster, and eventually he fell silent again. His plane slid through the bottom of the clouds, and he finally realized he was no longer surrounded by enemies... but now he was over endless water, and falling fast, with no sight of land anywhere. Despair came to him then, he had out flown his enemies but he had not out flown death, and now he would never see his homeland again. His leg began to itch, and he thought it a strange thing since it'd never done that before while flying... He let the thought slide as he watched the water rise to meet him, despondent and full of despair. [/i][/color]