Disclaimer: It probably goes without saying, but I don't own Ace Combat. Fanfic Authors even challenge the true sky.

The roar of a distant jet engine filled the skies as the bright glare of the summer sun beat down on the runways of the airbase. I could already feel beads of sweat running down by neck as I was escorted off the transport plane by a sour faced airman on security detail. I could tell he didn't want to be here any more than I did and I couldn't blame him. It was clear this place was a dump. The 444th Air Base situated in Zapland was a run down outpost in south-east Usea that now served as the home for an Osean penal air squadron... one that would be my new home for the foreseeable future.

The airman gave me a light shove forward and directed me toward the offices of the base commander, some Colonel by the name of McKinsey. As we walked off the air strip and into the confines of the base, I could see that the place resembled more of a prison than a military installation. Atop the high fences were rows of barbed wire and the watchtowers had their machine guns pointed inside the base as opposed to the other way around. It made you wonder if the Colonel was more afraid of the people in here than he was of the Eruseans outside.

We continued walking and passed a few of the other people stationed here. I can only imagine they were fellow prisoners as they wore the same kind of dark green jumpsuit that I had been issued. The men had a feral unkempt look about them as they sat on some crates taking a rest from their work and smoking some cigarettes. They looked on in silence wearing emotionless looks on their face. Like a fierce pack of wolves, they were probably trying to size me up and see if they could prey on the "fresh meat" but I simply walked on and didn't show any expression on my face either. After a short walk, we finally came to an office building and entered. I took a minute to savor the feel of air conditioning before I was marched up to a door and waited as the guard knocked three times.

"Enter."

We entered a messy office where paperwork and boxes were strewn about the place haphazardly. We halted in front of a desk where a graying man in his fifties sat going over some folders. He wore an OADF uniform and had a stern look about him as he didn't even bother looking up. He simply mumbled in annoyance, "What is it?"

The airman gave a salute, "Colonel McKinsey. I've delivered the new prisoner transfer as ordered."

McKinsey removed his glasses and looked up with a nod, "Thank you Airman. Dismissed."

The guard gave another salute and left the room leaving me with the base commander. He regarded me with a hard calculating look before folding his hands, "Well, I guess I should feel honored. It's not every day I get to meet a President-killer."

I probably should have expected that. It seemed everyone on this base was going to be an asshole but I ignored the insult and raised my hand to salute, "Sir. I am Lieutenant..."

"I already know who you are," McKinsey interrupted as he tossed aside a file folder, "And to be honest, I really don't give a damn. As far as I'm concerned, all of you convicts forfeited the right to your real names when you disgraced the Osean air force. Your call-sign had been Trigger, wasn't it?"

"Yes sir."

"Then that's what it's going to stay so long as you're under my command, is that understood?" he asked.

"Yes sir."

"Good, because let me tell you something else Trigger," McKinsey said as he got up and walked over to stand in front of me, "Your old rank means nothing to us here. You're not an officer anymore so don't go thinking you're special in any way. You're just like the rest of your new squadmates here... expendable. As you know, we're still fighting a war here meaning you will be expected to serve the needs of the Osean Federation and complete the objectives I give you, or you die trying."

I swallowed hard and continued to stand at attention, "I understand Colonel."

He nodded and picked up some papers from his desk before handing them to me, "These are your orders and documents to give to the quartermaster. Oh... and one other thing. Considering everyone knows what you did, some of those guys in your squad might actually be happy about it. Don't think for a minute you're going to be some big shot around here. Those guys are scum and villains. They are not your friends and neither am I. Now get out of my sight."

"Sir," I said before turning and heading out the door. Once clear, I stopped and looked at the transfer papers in my hand and grimaced slightly. I suddenly began to miss my old friends and wingmates that I had flown with. In this new hostile environment, it wasn't until now that I had begun to feel truly alone.

Later that day, I carried a dufflebag filled with issued clothes and supplies as I made my way into the base's dingy barracks where my new squadmates' living quarters were located. By all accounts, it wasn't much to look at and the rooms looked more like large prison cells. I had been told we could move freely within certain sections of the base or in areas that we were required to do work on. Otherwise, at 20:00 hours we had to be inside our cell blocks for lights out. The lights seemed to barely function and the ceiling fans rotated slowly, barely generating enough air to be of any use in this sweltering summer heat.

When I came to my cell block, I found my roommate already there. He was lounging on his cot reading a book but the moment I set foot in the cell, he looked up curiously to greet me. He was a young man, probably not much older than me. He had a long lanky build with fair skin and sandy brown features; a little scruffy and unkempt but he surprised me when he got up to offer me his hand with a cheerful smile, "Hey. You must be my new roomie. Welcome to Purgatory."

I couldn't help but snort and give a little grin as I shook his hand, "Huh... I must have taken a wrong turn. Those rats and cockroaches down the hall gave me bad directions."

The man laughed and stepped aside so that I could set my bag down, "You'll lean to adjust. Trust me."

"You've been here a while?"

"Just a couple months," he said, "I've been here since roughly around the time the war started. The name's Tabloid."

"Trigger," I replied as I unloaded my bag, "You must be a pilot too, eh?"

He nodded quietly and remained quiet before I gave a sigh, "I'm guessing you were going to ask about why I'm here?"

Tabloid grimaced and shrugged before checking to make sure no one else was around, "So... is it really true? Did you really shoot down the former President's aircraft near the International Space Elevator?"

I paused and frowned quietly, "No... at least... I don't think so. It all happened so fast. There were so many missiles flying through the air during that skirmish and when President Harling's chopper made that abrupt turn..."

Tabloid nodded quietly, "You know, it's always possible that the Osean government was just looking for a scapegoat. I mean, we heard the operation went to hell and with all the other shit that's been going down lately I wouldn't be surprised if they needed some people to blame."

"Are you saying you're one of them?" I asked curiously.

Tabloid gave a sardonic laugh, "Maybe. Let's just say I haven't been too happy with our government and they didn't want to hear what I had to say either."

I walked over to the small sink and ran some water to splash my face. As I toweled off, I looked in the mirror trying to see if I could really view myself as the convict everyone else thought I was. Nothing had changed about my short black hair or my blue eyes. I was still clean shaven and I still saw an Osean Air Force officer looking right back at me. Part of me was determined not to let that change.

Tabloid noticed my pause and flopped back down on his cot to read, "If I were you, I'd cut back on the shaving there buddy. The quartermaster is slow to give us razors and the base commanders don't seem to care what we look like either. Besides, you might want to fit in around here, right?"

I gave a solemn look in the mirror before taking out my razor and shaving anyway.

The next day, I had lunch in the messhall with Tabloid and we found a small table at one end of the room away from the noise and bustle of the other people present. I took a moment to study the sorry looking meal on my tray. Lunch today was a bowl of beef and vegetable stew, easy on the beef, along with a glass of water and a chunk of half stale bread. Tabloid didn't seem to bothered and dipped his bread in the soup to soften it up, "Heh... today's a good day. There's no mold on the bread. Small blessings, right?"

I shrugged and glanced across the room, only to be surprised by the sight of a young woman sitting by herself at a corner table. She was a slim athletic woman with tan skin and a very short pixie style haircut. She seemed to have a permanent scowl etched across her face and she read a Popular Mechanics magazine as she ate quietly. "Hmm. I don't remember seeing her yesterday."

Tabloid looked up and followed my gaze, "Oh, you mean Avril over there? Good luck trying to talk to her. That chick's got a bad attitude, but I will say this. She's a hell of a mechanic."

"She's military?"

Tabloid shook his head, "I don't think so. Some MP told me she was a civilian who did something really crazy to get thrown in here when the war with Erusea broke out... something about building her own jet plane, I think."

"You're kidding," I muttered in awe.

"As far as I know, she mostly keeps to herself and wrenches on the planes," Tabloid shrugged and gave a longing sigh, "But I'll be honest. A girl who knows her way around a jet turbine is pretty hot in my book."

I raised an eyebrow and gave my roommate a wry smile before he cleared his throat and pointed behind me with some urgency, "Uh oh. Trouble on your six. It's the Three Stooges."

I didn't even have time to turn around when three men came and approached our table. I recognized those guys. They were the same men who were smoking and watching me the day I had arrived on the base. The guy who looked to be their leader stepped forward. He was a scruffy guy with fair shoulder length hair and a sort of pretty boy look about him. He put his boot up on the bench next to where I was sitting and casually rested on it with a faux genial smile, "Well well... if it isn't the new guy. How do you like our little slice of paradise here?"

"I'm managing okay. Thanks," I answered in a non-committal way while they circled like wolves.

He grinned, "Good. Because it's probably a good idea you learn the chain of command around here. The name's Count, and I'm the best pilot in Spare Squadron here. These are my two buddies. Say hi to High Roller and Champ."

High Roller was a slightly older guy who idly shuffled a deck of cards in his hand while the other guy named Champ cracked his knuckles. He seemed to have dark features and a pretty large muscular build. Maybe he had been some kind of boxer or wrestler? I simply nodded a greeting and continued eating my stew, "Gentlemen."

Count waited patiently and leaned over, "Come on friend... don't be shy. Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

I stopped eating and looked up slowly, "My name is Trigger."

The other guys began to chuckle and laugh. "Trigger? What the hell kind of name is Trigger?" Champ chortled, "Is it because he always gets triggered?"

"It's because I'm pretty good with a handgun," I corrected him patiently, "Back home I competed in some marksmanship and trick shooting competitions so they always joked about me having an itchy trigger finger."

"The same kind of itchy trigger finger that killed President Harling at the Lighthouse?" Count taunted with a smug grin.

I decided not to take the bait so I gave him a thin smile and went back to my stew, "Listen buddy, you probably heard a lot of things, but you can think whatever you want."

Count kept poking, "Oh? You know what I think? I think you've got a pretty high opinion of yourself. You must think that you're hot shit or something. Well let me tell you something Mr. Trigger. Respect isn't given. It's earned around here. You go up there and you do something amazing in the air, then maybe we'll think about treating you like an equal human being."

"Okay. Got it," I said bluntly.

"Until then... you learn your place around here," Count said as he took a spoon and began to eat some of my food.

I growled in irritation but Tabloid was already getting up from his seat, "Hey lay off him Count. Don't be such a dick."

"No one was asking you string-bean," Champ answered as he pushed Tabloid back down. My roommate moved again and grabbed Count's forearm to stop him but Count splashed the soup in Tabloid's face while Champ got even rougher with the lanky man.

"Hey, leave him alone!" I sprung from my seat and smashed a fist into Count's face splitting his lip with a punch before Champ was on me. The big guy caught me with a right hook and my head swam as I staggered back. That was sure to leave a black eye, but I could worry about that later. Before I knew what was happening I began to wrestle him as he threw his shoulder into me causing even more of a ruckus. Moments later, the fight was broken up by some guards who rushed in and restrained all of us who had been scuffling. As one of them put me in a headlock and choked me roughly, I could hear the sergeant who was present give orders to his men.

"All right. Take these convicts out and throw them in the cooler. That'll shut them up."

I had barely been here two days and I was probably going to be on Col. McKinsey's shit-list already. This was not the way I was wanting to start things off here.

I was taken to a solitary holding cell out in the yard. A few other metal boxes sat nearby for other offenders and they didn't look like inviting places. I was tossed inside and locked within the box only to be left in darkness save for an open slit that had been cut out in the box to let in some air and some light. I lay on the floor of the box, sweating in the heat and alone with my own thoughts. Time passed and I couldn't tell how long I had been there. An hour? Several hours? Maybe a day? As I lay in the darkness, my mind began to wander back to different places. I thought about home. I thought about my hopes and dreams when I joined Osea's armed forces. I thought of my former wingmates and the harrowing battle over the rainforests with that Arsenal Bird. I thought about the death of President Harling and if I had been imagining things... that maybe I was in fact responsible for it and if I was, maybe I was being punished for my sins now. Most of all, I thought of the skies... of once again being able to fly free into the blue heavens so that I could get away from this hellish pit that I found myself in.

I had been so lost in my own mind, I didn't hear the doors of the box open. Two armed guards came in and hauled me up roughly by the shoulders. The glare of the summer sun that was streaming in from outside blinded me and I stumbled in weak disorientation. The man at the door of the box was only a shadowy outline but he gestured to the guards, "Get him up and bring him along."

Who are you? Where are you taking me?" I croaked as they dragged me out.

The outline of the man gave an imperious chuckle, "That's none of your concern. As far as I know, some shit is about to go down and the Colonel has some special plans for you."