Chapter Quote:
"Wise men learn many things from their enemies."
~Aristophanes
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Chapter 23: Deliberation: Part 3

Present Day...

Elizabeth

I stared at my uncle through my tears, disbelief coursing through me. I'd always wondered why my uncle never married. It's not like women weren't interested in him. I'd seen them staring in awe as he walked by them, whispering about him behind his back.

But now I understood.

Losing the love your life... I couldn't begin to imagine the extent of the heartache and pain my uncle endured. A decade after the tragedy, I could still see in his eyes how much the ghosts of his past haunted him. How much he still hurt from that fateful day...

My brother sniffled, and turning to look at him, I realized he was misty-eyed too.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Jason," I said, my voice cracking.

He smiled sympathetically at me. "It's the price of war. Part of me is glad it happened at the end. If she had died during the war, or when Pixy deserted, I don't think I would've been able to function."

"Since the governments were trying to hide you... were you able to attend her funeral?" Genette asked hesitantly.

"There was no way I was missing that, and Osea and Ustio would have a new war on their hands if they tried to stop me." Uncle Jason fiddled with a ring residing on his right hand's ring finger. I'd never noticed it before. "Your mom went with me for moral support. PJ, Iris, and Hammerhead were there too. Weirdly, I didn't cry. I think I didn't have tears left in me."

"Was that the last time you saw them?"

"No. I saw them at PJ and Iris's wedding. I was his best man. It was a small ceremony, but it was fun. That was nine years ago."

"Why haven't you seen him since?"

Uncle Jason grimaced. "The people looking for me- if they still are- wouldn't hesitate to use my family against me. You two, your parents, PJ, Iris, Hammerhead, you're all susceptible to that. It's why I rarely talk to you on the phone. Whenever we see each other, it's always in a public setting or at one of our houses. I'm not sure these people know it's me that's the Demon Lord, but I don't want to find out the hard way."

I bit my lip, contemplating on voicing my next question because it would be highly invasive, and I didn't want to necessarily ask it in front of Genette. It was something personal.

I decided to wait until later.

"Shall we watch the next few interviews?" Uncle Jason asked. I could tell he wanted to get past this part of his memories. I didn't blame him.

"Yeah, let's watch them," I agreed. He turned on the TV, and we settled in.

The documentary showed an aerial view of a damn, it's dark blue waters still and serene. Lush green trees lined the banks, and you could hear the helicopter in the background. The location and date faded onto the screen: 30 Nov. 2005, Avalon, Belka.

I found it strange for a place that witnessed such horrors to appear so calm and peaceful.

Brett began speaking as the view continued. "So this is the hidden truth about the war, and this is where his trail ends as well. The impact of the seven nuclear detonations on the world's psyche was great. Those who witnessed the carnage went on to organize a global arms reduction. Perhaps they were admonishing themselves."

The scene changed to a group of trees, their yellow leaves barely hanging on in the cold air. The birds chirped, and the gentle waves of the lake lapped against the shore. The camera panned down while Brett said, "Furthermore, the existence of V2 was concealed. The events that occurred after the war faded from people's memories and these men were also sealed away from history. Maybe this was one path to achieve peace. And here, the curtain falls on this story."

The shot ended on a burnt piece of a plane's wing resting against a tree, a bouquet of brightly colored flowers lay in front of it. I could just make out an engraving on the metal:

Janie Esme Biggs

Born November 28, 1972

Died December 31, 1995

I glanced over at Uncle Jason, noticing a tic in his jaw.

But he said nothing.

The next showed a dove sitting on a pilot's helmet in an abandoned building, symbolizing the peace after the bloodshed of war, and Brett's voiceover spoke, "However, that does not mean their own stories came to an end."

The documentary faded to black, then showed Dmitri Heinrich, still sitting in front of his grand tapestry. He started out by saying, "I fly under the code of knighthood. It's no surprise since we soldiers are the descendants of the Belkan knights. We protect the meek and give our lives for honor."

The camera scanned over the tapestry itself, showing knights in grand suits of armor. I wondered if these were depictions of Heinrich's relatives.

"But that does not mean that we are generous-" he continued, the camera shifting back to him- "since generosity will cost us our lives. If the pilot survived to the end of the war, he must have carried out these rules."

"Do you believe he survived the war?" Brett asked.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Heinrich's lips. "He earned the name 'Demon Lord' for a reason. There were some who believed he truly was a demon. I don't know what I believe when it comes to him. However, I do know that a pilot like him deserves to live."

Blackness enveloped the scream before revealing Detlef Fleisher, sitting in his library. He stared off into space as he said, "A nation is comprised of the individuals who live in its borders. It can only support a nation when it is supported by those individuals. But mercenaries who cross lines and allegiance have no country to protect. They only fight for their own power and fame."

"Do you believe that was the case for the Demon Lord?" Brett queried.

"I do," Fleisher responded, but he paused, staring down at the floor. Almost to himself, he asked, "But if that was the case, then why did I lose to him?"

Brett didn't respond, letting Fleisher come to his own conclusion.

It didn't take him long. "Maybe not having a burden of a nation allows you to fly faster."

"Do you think the Demon Lord will ever return to the skies?"

"Not any time soon. If there's anything he and I share in common, it's that we both lost ourselves in that war. It might've been on different battlefields, but circumstances made us walk different paths than we expected. As much I as I don't like mercenaries, I do hope he's okay. No one escapes war unscathed. Dealing with the demons of your past alone can be painful, and in some cases, dangerous."

The screen once more changed to a different ace; this time, Bernhard Schmidt. He shoved the last piece of food into his mouth before saying, "War is something fought on the desk of politicians. As long as they win in the end, that's all that matters. But for us, it's a matter of survival. In order to survive, you need to analyze the situation in an instant. It's the same as living in a city. The rules of this little city apply just as well to that wide-open sky. That guy had the same feel about him as this city."

"What do you mean?" Brett took the question right out of my mouth. Bernhard had an eccentricity to him that I couldn't quite understand.

"I mean, it's never the same. No day in this city is ever the same as before, and neither was fighting him. Right when you thought you saw a pattern in his flying, he'd switch it up. It's almost like he purposefully was doing that to lead us into a trap. I wouldn't put it past him. I heard his voice, and I know he was young. But I'll be damned if I said he wasn't smart as hell."

"Do you think he's alive?"

"Absolutely. Demons never die, after all. They just put on new faces and blend in with the crowd until they're called to battle again." Schmidt smiled, reminiscent. "I owe him for reminding me that we're all human, even aces like me. I'd like to thank him for that one day if I ever meet him."

A commercial abruptly appeared, and I turned to my uncle, gauging the situation. The words of Fleisher echoed repeatedly in my head: Dealing with the demons of your past alone can be painful, and in some cases, dangerous.

I wondered, and worried, how bad it got for my uncle. Getting even just the small glimpses of his emotions after Pixy's betrayal and Janie's death concerned me. How badly did he handle it? What helped him? How did he cope?

I shouldn't ask him the questions because they were so personal and private, but my uncle and I were like two peas in a pod. Even my mom said I was just like Uncle Jason, but younger and a female. We both bottled up our emotions until they exploded or dissipated. Mine had never exploded before, but it was only a matter of time. It happened to everyone sooner or later, and I wanted to be prepared.

Now was still not the time to ask.

Instead, I said, "I hope if I ever become a legendary pilot, the aces I go against smile when talking about me. It doesn't seem like any of them hate you."

"No, it doesn't," Uncle Jason replied. "It's weird. I don't think I really hated any of them either, except Bristow, of course. I really would've liked to have sucker-punched the guy."

"I thought you'd want to shoot him," Genette said.

"Oh, that too."

"Maybe one day you'll get the chance."

"It better be on my birthday. Best gift ever to wipe that smirk off his face."

"How do you know he'll be smirking?"

"Because he's a cocky son of a bitch. You two want anything from the kitchen before the documentary comes on?" Uncle Jason asked, standing up. "I'm getting something to drink."

"Could you grab me a Dr. Pepper, please?" I asked. Genette seconded my request. Our uncle disappeared momentarily before coming back just in time for the documentary to start. He handed us our drinks and sat down in his chair.

I couldn't help but notice the full glass of whiskey in his hand.