The winds swirled through German countrysides. A calender, the sole survivor within the burnt out confines of farmhouse, read the year 1942. Outside, American tanks hammered their enemies positions, radio chatter screaming for air support as German ME-262 jet fighters ripped dangerously close to American Lines. However, their pilots weren't trying to kill, they were running. American soldiers cheered as a lone, midnight-black painted aircraft ripped through the sky above them. It's bright red tail and matching wing tips screamed out the words "it will all be okay", but all mouths were silent as those words had no need of being spoken.
As the aircraft chased down the pair of ME-262s, American radios fell silents for only one voice to come through, "Red Tail P-51, Midnight, engaging my enemies." The Red Tail pilot went silents as he grasped the trigger on his stick. All six .50 caliber machineguns punched a sizeable hole through the painted on swastika of one of the ME-262s. Midnight's guns didn't stop firing... they ripped the German pilot into pieces as if they'd become the jaws of some pissed off, fairytale horror. The other pilot's eyes locked onto the P-51's pilot, who met the German's gaze. One set of eyes, burned with prejudice, the other set burning far hotter with the will to persevere.
Both remaining aircraft pulled up, straight up. They danced around each other, allowing those below to witness the blackened angel and white-light demon begin their dance of death. Neither pilots was prepared to lose, both pilots were legends to their peoples, aces that hunted each other in the sky. While the ME-262 began to pull ahead, the P-51 forced the jet to arch with it or be cutdown. Neither pilot dared slip, nor dared back down. However, the pair were getting dangerously close to the ground. Both planes ate soil, and crashed into the farmland, just outside the battle.
The German pilot groaned as he awoke. However, the sound of a hammer cocking sent shrill of fear down into the depths of his soul. His gaze rose upward, eyes trembling as they fell upon the black pilot, fatally wounded, aiming a pistol at his head. "So much for the "master race", huh." The deafening bang and smoke rising from the Red Tail's pistol meant the German Ace was dead. The Red Tail fell from the jet's fuseluge, his own blood spilling out from his gut. He gritted his teeth and crawled forward, trying to get back to his plane.
Around him, German forces had managed to push the Americans back. A white, young American soldier watched as the Red Tail pushed himself to stand back up. Their eyes met, with the Red Tail nodding to him, before raising his pistol, teeth gritted together tightly as he staggered toward the approaching enemy forces. His pistol ejected round after round, each of the spent casings seemingly hitting the ground in slow motion as the Red Tail marched toward hell. That young soldier watched as a bullet ripped through the Red Tail's left shoulder. The pain bringing the Red Tail some consciousness as another round from his pistol executed the German's Field Commander.
American soldiers turned around to see their Red Tail Ace pushing toward hell, knowing full well his injuries were too severe to survive. Another bullet ripped into the Red Tail Ace's leg, dropping him to the ground. The field below him that had once shimmered with life, was now stained with his blood. As he collasped into the field's embrace, his consciousness fleeing him, he managed to utter the words. "We Fight... We Fight... We..." His voice trickled off, like access rainwater... slowly and softly. As a voice beckoned him to the otherside, the young American soldier yelled out loudly, rushing with his men back into the German jaws of hell, pushing them away from the body of the fallen Red Tail Ace. As they rushed headfirst into hell, the Americans all cried out... "WE FIGHT WITH YOU!"
As the Red Tail's soul left his body, it seemed to rise into the void of heaven's enthrall. There, a goddess held his red and black soul, her eyes wet with fresh tears. "You poor soul... despite the slim chance a medic would've found you... you damned your own odds, and made the odds of those fleeing soldiers far surpass your own." She cradled the soul of the Red Tail before smiling at it. Fear not, I shall see to it your soul is not wasted. When you awaken... show me just what kind of altruistic soul you'll be... in your new world."