As an apology for taking a year to update, have another chapter! I'm changing some of the dates since unlike the game where you only have one interview with an ace depending on which style you are, I'm interviewing all the aces!

Chapter Quote:
"War does not determine who is right- only who is left."
~Bertrand Russell
_______________________________________

Chapter 12: Deliberation Part 1

Cipher

The camera zoomed out of a picture of my old squadron symbol: a red dog with a spiked collar biting down on chains. I never really knew the symbolism for it, but I liked it regardless. It looked sharp. Brett spoke over the footage, saying, "My pulse raced at the astounding accomplishments of the mercenary known as 'Demon Lord.' I forgot about my job and read everything I had on hand."

The scene shifted to a map of Belka, dated 14-28 May, 1995 with the caption: The war spreads to Belka. The map, dates, and caption shifted as Brett continued explaining the situation. "Around the time 'Demon Lord' received his nickname, South Belka showed signs of weariness regarding the war. Because the region was set up as a defense line to protect the birthplace of Belka in the north, the people's dissatisfaction had reached a climax."

The video now switched to a Belkan flag being lowered, followed by black and white pictures directly from the battlefield. Brett went on. "The cities declared themselves demilitarized, and peacefully surrendered to the Allied Forces. Unable to establish a defensive position, the Belkan army kept retreating to the north. The end of the war was fast approaching."

Now the video was that of a CD in the corner lying next to a piece of paper that read: Osea Air Defense Force. There was something after that but the darkness kept it hidden. Brett explained, "I was given an opportunity to interview the former aces of the Belkan Air Force. Back then, they were the masters of the sky... and they had also known him."

Now Oured's Grand Central Terminal, its famous train station, showed up on the screen. Brett said, "So I crossed the border to follow his trail. I wanted to capture the war and the 'Demon Lord' from their point of view... to capture the voices of those who were there."

The screen went black, and the interviews of the Belkan aces I'd faced began.
  _______________________________________  

Brett

Interview #1
The Pilot That Lives By Pride
The University of Dinsmark, Belka
9 October, 2005

I put my recorder in front of me as I drove down the road, saying into it, "Rot Team Commander, former member of the Belkan Air Force 2nd Air Division, 52nd Tactical Fighter Squadron. Detlef Fleisher. Also known as the 'Red Swallow'. With his skill and demeanor, he was practically a poster boy for the armed forces. Today, he is a professor of history at the University of Dinsmark."

I sighed and repeated what I'd just said, hoping to get a good recording of it where my voice sounded professional but not like I'd practiced it repeatedly; I needed to sound like I knew what I was talking about but not sound boring. There was a fine, difficult line that I had to find, but just hearing myself, I knew that wasn't going well.

I pulled up in front of my interviewee's place. Fleisher lived in a small, low-key apartment in a quiet part of Dinsmark- Belka's capital. His house was neat and tidy, something that was to be expected from him after reading his profile. He led me into his office which overlooked the other houses on the street and the setting sun. Bookshelves covered almost all the wall space from top to bottom, each shelf full of books. I caught the names of a few of them. Some were about history, some were about planes, some were classics. He took a seat in his chair and I sat on the couch in front of him with my camera pointed at him.

"Thank you for taking the time to talk to me," I said. "I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome. Ask any question you wish," he told me politely.

"Tell me about yourself when you were in the Armed Forces."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face for a brief moment before he returned to his emotionless expression. "Back then, I was bursting with pride. I wanted to lead us to victory, for Belka's honor. Staying where it was nice and warm wouldn't accomplish anything."

"Did you make that sentiment known to your superiors?"

"I did. It was why they posted me in the areas they did. I'd been one of the top in my flight class, so I'd been given a few choices of where I wanted to be stationed. I chose an area close to B7R because I knew that if a war was to come, important battles would be fought there. I wanted to be part of those missions. To win the battles for my country."

"Tell me about that mission when you met the Demon Lord."

He tended to avoid looking at me or the camera as he began explaining the situation. "My flight's mission was to maintain air superiority in Area B7R, an essential area that we couldn't allow to be violated. That day, when I heard the order from HQ for reinforcements, I became angry," Fleisher admitted, looking up at me. "The stationed force was in chaos because of just two mercenaries. There was no way the mighty Belkan Air Force could lose to mere mercenaries. My pride was shot and the Round Table was defiled. What went wrong?"

His question seemed more rhetorical than anything else so I refrained from responding. He hung his head as he continued, "Whatever it may be, the fact remains I was forced to walk a different path in life than the one I had envisioned."

"When you encountered the mercenaries that day, what did you think of them?"

"Similar to how most Belkans in the military feel about mercenaries: we hate them. We see them as flying for money rather than for their country."

"Do you think the Demon Lord was flying for money?"

"No..." Fleisher said hesitantly. "If he had been, he would've been shooting down the neutralized planes as well. But he wasn't. He only went after those who posed a threat to him and his allies."

"Do you think that has any reason as to why he became what he was? Because he wasn't referred to as Demon Lord really at that point in time."

"I think his reason for flying, whatever it may have been, is the reason he survived. Money can only motivate a person so much. It was obvious that he fought for a purpose other than that. If it was for his country, for a family he may have had, I cannot tell you. So as much as I hated mercenaries, it was refreshing to have one like him around. I may have still hated him at that time, but not anymore."

"What stood out about him in comparison to all the other pilots you faced?"

Fleisher stayed quiet for a few moments, as if unable to find the correct words. Finally he said, "It's impossible to say. There were many things. I must say on my approach, I noticed his flying. It was different than the others around him. Sometimes it seemed Belkan, other times Osean, other times Ustian. He had no fear, but he was respectful to the planes that were neutralized. He didn't go after them."

"Do you have any idea who he may be?" I questioned hopefully.

"No. I wish I did. His voice came over the radio a few times though. Nothing ever important that would've helped me defeat him. But he sounded young. He certainly made it through the war, so my belief is that he's laying low somewhere, away from the treachery of any wars that may arise. From what I know, he lost quite a bit in his final few missions."

"You made your name in the Belkan Air Force when you destroyed three Ustian SU-27s. Why did you leave after the Demon Lord defeated you?"

"I left as a pilot, but I wasn't ready to leave the military. I became Base Commander for a while until... certain situations arose. I then fully left the military to become a professor. It had been the only other career I considered, because I feel I'm doing something for my country. I'm teaching the posterity."

"But why quit being a pilot?"

"I guess my pride had been severely shot." In this moment I remembered Pixy's statement about how there were three kinds of aces: those who lived for pride, those who sought strength, and those who could read the tide of battle. It turned out Fleisher was for pride. I decided to bring this quote up, leaving Pixy's name out of it, and asked which of the three he thought Demon Lord flew for. Fleisher pondered it for a moment before saying, "I think it was strength. Here was this mercenary in the middle of a battle between two countries. These mercenaries are typically looked down upon and I think he was seeking to strengthen not only the view of mercenaries in general, but seeking to strengthen Ustio's stronghold over B7R, and seeking to strengthen where he fit into everything. It's hard to fit in somewhere when you're not an official member or when you're considered an outsider. I would know. I understand that feeling..."

I was hoping he'd elaborate, but to my dismay, he didn't.
  _______________________________________  

Interview #2
A Man Who Upholds Honor
Lichtenburg, Belka
10 October, 2005

"Indigo Team Commander, former member of the Belkan Air Force, 7th Air Division, 51st Tactical Fighter Squadron. Dmitri Heinrich. An ace whose precision and grace in flying earned him the title of Blue Heron. Today, he has his hands full with the family business," I stated in my recorder. This time I was driving in the high-end area of Lichtenburg, palatial houses lining the street. I pulled up in front of one made of stone. It looked cold and intimidating. Glancing at the house number, it matched the number on the directions I'd been given. This was Dmitri Heinrich's house.

I parked in the driveway and got out of the car, walking up to the grand wooden door. Ringing the doorbell, the wait for someone to answer was surprisingly short. A blonde man with calculating blue eyes answered the door.

"You must be Brett Thompson, the reporter," he said.

"Yes, sir. Are you Dmitri Heinrich?" I replied. He confirmed he was, moving aside and inviting me in. He poured us each a cup of tea before escorting me to a lavishly designed office. A massive tapestry hung on the wall, golden embellishments all over it. A brown, leather armchair rested in front of it. It is this seat that my interviewee took. I placed my camera in front of me, centering it on him.

"I want to thank you for taking the time out of your day to let me interview you," I said sincerely.

"You're welcome. I must say, when I received your letter, I was surprised. Few people have wanted to interview me about the war."

"You run the family business now, but why did you choose to join the Air Force all those years ago?" I queried.

"My family comes from a long line of knights who have fought for their country's honor. I wanted to continue that. I joined the air force because it was the one place my relatives didn't have any history in. I wanted to make a name for myself without using my legacy or origins to help get me to the top."

"You made a name for yourself quickly. How did you do it?"

"There was a mission I fought in, before the Belkan War, where I dealt devastating blows to the enemy. It earned me the rank of Lieutenant in 1988," he informed. Unlike my first interviewee who sometimes couldn't look me in the eye, Heinrich had no problem making eye contact. It would've been unnerving had I not been so enraptured by the information I was gathering.

"Tell me what happened that day in B7R," I requested, feeling myself moving to the edge of my seat in anticipation.

Heinrich took the answer in stride. "That day, right before I deployed, my airspace assignment was changed. Initially, my squadron was assigned to the stable eastern front. That was changed to B7R, 'The Round Table' where casualties were recorded at a fearsome pace. It's also the place where I met him. It was just two planes- him and an Eagle. And yet our lead force didn't stand a chance against them. I could tell he was good and it was going to be bad for us. But there was something else I noticed. He hesitated. A vulnerability that can be exploited. I was certain I would win. The pilot was still young. He had yet to master the rules of combat... But, in the end, I was shot down."

"What happened to you, after you were shot down?"

"This is where my memory gets a little hazy. I know I was forced to either make an emergency landing or I was forced to eject. Which one is true, I am unsure. But whatever happened left me with severe injuries. I was in a coma for three months. The first thing I asked when I woke up was who was winning the war, only to find out the war had already ended. Unfortunately, because of my injuries, I was unable to continue fulfilling my duties in the military, so I retired and took over my family business here."

"You said he hesitated when you fought him. How?"

"I saw him trailing us on the radar and he had plenty of time to fire at any of us. But he didn't. I believe he was coming up with a strategy. I allowed him to think I didn't know anything to firstly, lead him into a false sense of security; and secondly, to see what kind of pilot he was. To see what strategy he would take. It was the latter one that told me he was a young pilot. He had yet to fully trust his instincts."

"Why did they switch you to B7R from the eastern front rather than another ace squadron?"

"Often times, when country's send reinforcements to the air space, they send their aces. Our sources informed our military that it was two mercenaries, so we sent out an ace squadron that was best suited to take mercenaries down. When they were shot down, our leaders sent out us instead, assuming that while they may have been mercenaries, they'd had some sort of formal training and were assumed to be ex-aces for Belka. Why they assumed this, they did not elaborate to me and my team. I digress though. To regain control over the situation, they sent a squadron led by a man who had been fighting for his country his whole life. A pride thing, if you may. Obviously that did not work as well, neither did sending a third squadron from what I've heard since we lost the war and they won."

"You fought for the honor of your country. What do you think he fought for?"

"There's many things, but I believe he lived for battle. The way he flew, the way he challenged those who confronted him, it was impossible to ignore. We all get some sort of adrenaline rush when flying, but for him, it seemed to be exponentially higher."

"In an interview before this, I was told that there are three kinds of aces-"

"Ah yes, those who live for pride, those who seek strength, and those who can read the tide of battle. You want to know which one of those I believe him to be?" he stated. I nodded in response. "I don't think it was for strength. He already had that and he knew it. I think he was one that could read the tide of battle. It may have taken him a bit but it's the only way to explain how he was able to defeat three Belkan squadrons."

"How do you feel towards mercenaries?"

"I hate most mercenaries. They fight for money. The more they destroy, the more they get paid. They have no honor. But if you're asking if I hate the Demon Lord... no. He might have been a mercenary, but he had some honor to him. He wouldn't shoot down neutralized planes. He let them be and if he had any say with the other squadrons, which I'm highly sure he did, he made sure his allies didn't shoot any neutralized planes down either. This may come as a surprise, but I have some respect for him. He brought honor into a position that had none."
  _______________________________________  

Interview #3
The Strategist
Sudentor, Belka
12 October, 2005

Unlike the previous interviews, the third ace from that day the Demon Lord first fought in the Round Table chose to meet me in a diner in Sudentor, the place he now called home. He owned a record company and a sporting goods store, mainly selling skateboards and bikes. A far cry from the straight-laced military background he came from.

With recorder in hand, I sat in my car in front of the diner, explaining this ace before I went in to meet him. "Bernhard Schmidt. A man with the eyes of an owl. Grun Team Commander, former member of the Belkan Air Force, 10th Air Division, 8th Tactical Fighter Squadron. Fighting with distinguished service on the battlefield, he earned the title of 'Ace' with his uncanny ability to adapt quickly to the flow of battle."

Pleased with how it sounded, slightly impressed by my ability to get it right the first time, I got out of my rental car and entered Pop's Diner. I glanced around, trying to find my interviewee. One of the waitresses came up to me, asking if I needed help. When I told her who I was looking for, she pointed to the end booth to my left. I thanked her and approached the table. A man in a beanie and leather jacket glanced up at me and said, "Brett Thompson?"

"Bernhard Schmidt?" I returned.

"The one and only. Take a seat." He motioned to the empty booth across from him. I sat down, pulling out my camera, and centering him on the screen. I then began the interview.

"I'll start out with the question I've started them all of with: what made you choose to go into the air force?"

"I grew up in a 'safe' environment. My parents and I lived in the suburbs of Sudentor in a small house in a nice neighborhood. I became a rebel in my teenage years, never doing what my parents wanted me to do. I jumped from job to job and was always low on money. I couldn't quite find that place where I felt I belonged, where it gave me the adrenaline rush I needed at the time. Then I heard a patriotic speech in 1990 and when the Rald party took over, I became motivated to join the air force. Flying gives you this freedom that being on the ground doesn't allow."

"You made a name in the Belkan Air Force quickly, became an ace quickly. Tell me about that day you met the Demon Lord."

The corners of Schmidt's mouth upturned briefly into a smile, as if he was recounting something. But it disappeared as he began his story. "I had a bad feeling while I was flying towards the Round Table. Why were they having problems downing two mercenaries? I figured it was just temporary chaos and it would be over by the time I got there. The pilots of the Belkan Air Force are true professionals, but when I saw the situation, I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought maybe my IFF was malfunctioning. There were still two enemies on the radar. Everyone else in my squadron had the same reaction, this is really happening... Every now and then, guys like that appear on a battlefield. Someone special, you know? I squinted my eyes and confirmed the situation. Checked the terrain, air currents, his plane, his maneuvers, and his remaining ammo. I figured I could do it. I knew what I was getting into... but he still outmaneuvered me beyond my expectation."

"You're considered one of those pilots that can read the tide of battle instantly. What are things you noticed that others may not have?"

"All Belkan pilots are trained to know what plane they're fighting to know what the strengths and weaknesses of the enemy are. So all of the pilots they went up against, at least the aces for sure, would've known that both mercenaries were flying F-15 Eagles. What they may not have noticed is that both planes had their right wings painted red. That signifies that those two are most likely either brothers in arms or mercenaries who have joined together, if not both. With either, they depend on each other. It's rare for mercenaries to join up with other mercenaries. They tend to be lone wolves. With that being said, I noticed that they did not always fight next to each other. Often times they fought by themselves. The interesting point here was that they were just as strong together as they were apart, which makes them incredibly dangerous opponents."

"It was rumored from the sources I talked to, in order to figure out who fought him in his battles, that you were not just a rebel as a teen, but also a bit of a rebel in the air force as well?"

"They liked to call it rule breaking. I called it rule bending. I was good at finding loopholes in their system and exploited it to my advantage, both in class and in the air. But despite the troubles I gave them, they kept me on because I was an asset they couldn't afford to lose."

"You chose the air force because it gave you the freedom and adrenaline you wanted. Why do you think the Demon Lord flew the skies?"

"That's difficult to say. I can determine the tides of battle easily. Determining someone's reason for flying is much more difficult, especially when you don't know them personally. But if I had to say, from the sporadic chatter I heard over the mic from him, some of which he was saying something sarcastic either to his wingman or about us, I would say it's for pride. Mercenaries don't fight for a country so they're not flying for the pride of their country. They're flying for pride in themselves, or to give himself pride he lacked before. If I'm correct about that, then he had a lot to be prideful about. His flying is like nothing I've ever seen before and most likely never will again. But like I said earlier, every war, someone special shows up on the battlefield. The next war the world engages itself in, there will be a new demon. Mark my words."
  _______________________________________  

Interview #4
The Fallen
Directus, Ustio
14 October, 2005

My flight from Belka to Ustio had been delayed by three hours so by the time I arrived in front of my next interviewee's house, the sun was beginning to set, creating an orange glow over the capital. I parked in front of the house, gathering my camera, notepad, and recorder, where I stated, "Gelb Team's number two, former member of the Belkan Air Force, 5th Air Division, 23rd Tactical Fighter Squadron: Rainer 'Cormorant' Altman. He flew the skies of Directus during the capital's liberation. And he's still there to this day."

I knocked on his door. A tall, lanky man answered it, revealing himself to be Rainer Altman. He was polite and kind, but not overly friendly. Then again, that was how I was finding most Belkans to be. He escorted me to his study. While he got us some drinks, I set up the camera so that it focused on the chair he would be sitting in. When he came in and sat down, I made a few small adjustments to the camera, then began the interview.

"Why did you join the air force?" I queried.

Rainer took a moment to think then answered, "I was kind of lost as to what to do when I got out of high school. I wanted something engaging and something that would keep me on my toes. It was my cousin, Orbert Jager, who suggested that I join the Air Force. He was twelve years older than me but we'd always been close and considering he'd always given me good advice before, I listened to him this time. I only have one regret, and that was not speaking up to my commanders about what they were doing to me and Jager. If I had, he might still be here."

"What happened that day? The day you met the Demon Lord?" I asked gently, knowing I was treading into sensitive territory.

Altman seemed not to mind though because he responded almost immediately. "I met him above this very sky. I can still hear the sound of the missile alerts from that day. I received an order to fly to Directus on my way back from an intercept mission on the southern defense line. The order itself wasn't unusual. We kept being deployed from one mission to the next without receiving even the basic maintenance. But the situation was the same all around. We were late reaching the operational space. The stationed squadrons had already retreated, and warning bells were going off in the city... And the people were looking up to his plane high above the sky. He pursued me relentlessly. It felt like he could see right through me. He was always one step ahead of me. As soon as I thought I'd shook him off, there he was again. The never-ending sound of the missile alerts put fear in my heart for the first time. He matched every combat maneuver I made until I used up every trick in the book. I couldn't see any emotion in his maneuvers. I didn't feel like I was fighting against a human being. I wanted to end that battle as quickly as possible."

"Why were they doing that to you? Making you fly without basic maintenance, I mean."

"We were errand boys for them. The smaller, menial tasks that needed done that they didn't want to send their poster boys to do, they sent us. And there were quite a few of those missions. Had they known what those mercenaries were like, I don't think they would've sent us. We were aces, but we weren't like the others," he admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"We weren't trying to make a name for ourselves. I mean, don't get me wrong, it was nice to be recognized for what we did, but we did so much that they took advantage of us because they knew that whatever task they gave us, we could and would do it without arguing. We just wanted to serve our country and help them in their endeavors."

"It sounds like there were multiple reasons you flew. What do you think made the Demon Lord fly?"

"He knew he was good. It takes a lot of confidence in a pilot to do some of the things he did, if not a fair dose of lunacy. I'd been flying for years and I'm sure the pilot was young and hadn't been flying as long as me. He was pulling off stunts and maneuvers I never would've thought of doing, let alone actually doing them."

"What are you feelings towards him? You don't sound like you... dislike him."

"As much as I would love to blame him for the death of Jager, I can't. There were too many factors at play that day. First, our planes were in horrendous condition having not been properly maintenanced which is our military's fault. Second, we were exhausted from the previous missions, again, our military's fault. Third, Jager knew he was in trouble when that missile was going after him and he didn't eject in time. Lastly, he was doing what he'd been ordered to do, just like I had been. And despite him playing a role in my cousin's death, I don't blame him. We weren't properly equipped to handle him, physically or professionally. He was on a completely different level. So was his wingman."

"What do you think the Demon Lord flew for? Pride? Strength?"

"It's hard to read an opponent that has no emotions in his flying. I don't think it was for pride. He would've been more textbook in his fighting style. It wasn't for strength. He knew he had it because although his flying style was erratic, it was calculated and it was obvious he knew what he was doing. I think he flew for the people below him. I could hear their cheers of liberation over my own radio, and I know he did too. They were who he was fighting for. When you have that many people supporting you, looking up to you, you don't want to let them down."

I hesitated with my last question because again, it treaded into a sensitive area for Altman, but I wanted to know. "Why stay in Directus after everything that happened here?"

Again, he didn't seem to mind. "When I ejected, I was taken to a hospital by some natives of the city. Despite me being a Belkan, an enemy to them, they treated my wounds and injuries as they would their own. It was in that hospital where I met my wife. Talking to them, listening to what they'd been through under my country's control, my ideology started to change. I'd been writing a novel during my military career and continued it in the hospital. I added in a lot of what my conversations with all the nurses had entailed. I had it published when I got out, dedicating it to the citizens of Directus. I spend my time nowadays writing my next novel, volunteering at homeless shelters, animal shelters, schools, hospitals, anywhere I can really. I do so in return for everything that this city has done for me. Yes it's where my cousin died. But it's also where I found a new purpose in my life."
  _______________________________________  

Cipher

Watching the interview of the aces I'd encountered during my war was not only eye-opening, but also a wake-up call. These were the actual faces of the people I'd encountered., of the people I'd shot down, of the people whose comrades I had shot down, if not killed. I could see their faces, but they still had yet to see mine. They were all still clueless as to who I was, as to what I looked like, as to what reason I fought for. They were normal human beings still trying to figure out the person they'd faced off against ten years ago, all with different ideas and opinions of what kind of fighter I was, of what kind of ace I was. This whole scenario was almost surreal to me. I couldn't place this feeling, but I didn't necessarily like it whatever it was...

Elizabeth seemed to pick up on the internal distress I was beginning to feel because she convinced Genette to go to the store with her to get ice cream and some ingredients for something called a chai cake. She also convinced him to go out to the car before her. The moment the door was shut, my niece gave me a hug.

"I know watching all this can't be easy for you. Take as much time as you need. I can distract Genette for hours. Just let me know when you're okay again," she told me after she pulled away.

"God it's just weird... seeing the faces of these people. I never thought I would."

"I can't imagine what you're going through right now. Maybe talk to PJ and see if he can help?" she suggested. When I looked at her with surprise, she sheepishly confessed to having overheard me the night I talked to him on the phone.

"I could... but he's probably having a rough time too because he was there for some of that... and if he's interviewing all the aces that I encountered, then PJ may have shot down some of them too. You'll understand what I mean later. I'll be fine. Go get the ingredients. I'll be fine by the time you get back."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I insisted. With one last hug, my niece disappeared into the garage, taking my car. I leaned back, having just now realized I'd been sitting on the edge of my seat, devouring the interviews occurring in front of me. Had my identity truly been that well protected? How had the Osean and Ustian governments managed to keep it so well guarded? Not that I minded. It was better that no one knew because it meant my family was protected from any harm. They couldn't be used as leverage against me. But still... putting faces to the aces I'd met in battle was disorienting, and I knew it was about to get a whole lot worse.
  _______________________________________  

Enjoy :)