The capital stretched out before me as I waited for traffic to be cleared from the bridge for what might be my last takeoff. The images of the past 24 hours rushed through my head, the sinking of the Kestrel...the battle formation of pilots from both Osea and Yuktobania, countries who were at war because of shadows of a former enemy, joining on our wings...The vicious dog fighting above the Belka complex, and the suicidal run through the installation tunnels below the surface...and now this.

The SOLG was falling from orbit, heading straight for the capital of Osea, and one of the largest cities in the world. The massive satellite was carrying a nuclear weapon of unspeakable power, and if it crashed, millions of innocents would die. I looked out the back of my canopy as the last of the traffic was rushed off the bridge, hoping to see the faces of my wingmen, no, the faces of my friends. And then time stopped for the shortest of moments, as my eyes locked with her's.

Nagase, my second in command, stared back at me. Ever since this war had started, she had flown beside me, from the first Yuke attack on Osean soil, to the present. She had always been beside me, and if we survived this final battle, I would ask he to be beside me till the end of the world and beyond.

"This is AWACS Oka Nieba to Ghosts of Ragriz squadron, the bridge is cleared, you are ready for takeoff." The heavily accented voice crackled over my squadron's COM channels. The Yuktobanian words jarred me out of that moment, and back into reality. I looked at Nagase for one last second, hoping, praying that she would hear what I was saying. She nodded, and smiled before strapping her oxygen mask on, she had heard perfectly. I turned back to face the expanse of the bridge before me, and strapped myself in before flicking my microphone on.

"Roger, Oka Nieba, this is Razgriz One, call sign 'Blaze', proceeding to takeoff". I said clearly, sharply into the microphone fitted into my oxygen mask, and began to roll down the length of the bridge. It was slow at first, but the outside world began to rush past as I applied more and more power to my jet's engines before pulling back my joystick, and rising into the pre-dawn sky.

The massive city shrank below me, as I roared skyward, gaining altitude every second before finally leveling off at 7,000 feet and circling around the capital while my squadron got airborne. And as I circled, listening as each of my friends rose into the air, a million of thoughts and words swarmed through my mind. So many things to say to them, yet as they formed on my wing and rose even higher above the earth to the altitude where the SOLG would be targetable, my mind blanked, and I slowly began to sing the song that our battle group had sang the night before, as the two enemy forces joined sides to fight the true enemy.

My voice poured through every radio on our frequency, before being joined by Nagase's, then Grimm, and finally, Snow. The four of us, the Ghosts of Razgriz, the pilots who had changed the course of this Unsung War soared through the sky towards our final flight together, flying as one wing for the last time.

When the 8492nd squadron's leader broke into our frequency, swearing that we would die by his squadron's hands in his cruel voice, I simply gave what would be my last order as a officer of the Osean Air Force.

"Razgriz, engage."