Chapter 1: Chapter 1: The Beginning

“Alright, that should be the last one.” I jump out of the cockpit of the stealth jet fighter. The last bit of software adjustment should help the jet to be more predictable since its engines are super powerful, then again, the one piloting the fighter jet is a weird mute pilot with some experience in the air force, getting multiple kills during training, including an F-22 using an F-16 fighter jet. 

It’s been a long time ever since this Advanced Tactical Air Dominance program started, and to my surprise, after this long time, the first-ever working final production prototype is finally completed. It takes 20 years ever since the start of the program. However, in the end, the result will speak for itself. 

“Going back home?” One of my co-workers asked. 

“Yeah, of course. Can’t be late for the first flight of this jet. What do you think will happen when this jet is unveiled?” I ask the co-worker. 

“Well, boss, if you ask me, it’ll be no different than when you joined the works, but even more extreme. Like, as long as I have worked here, I’ve never seen anyone that enthusiastic about weapon systems as much as you do,” he replied. 

“Perhaps it is because of my upbringing,” I shrugged.

When other girls were busy with Tiktok back then, I was busy studying and reading about weapon systems. I loved it so much, even to the point where I have a blueprint of an F-15E fighter jet back in my bedroom when the others had boy bands picture in their bedroom. 

Heck, back then, I called Lockheed Martin Lockheed Mart, the one-stop solution for all of your weapon system needs. As I grew older, I took engineering. To this day, I still praised Stoner and Browning for giving the old U.S.A. the weapons that they still used. 

Then, I worked for a firearm company, then in the aerospace industry, then, here I am, working on some sort of semi-secret project that would be unveiled to the public to reassert the dominance of the military-industrial complex when it is given a blank check to counter the Chinese stealth fighter threats. 

My hope is big that this will turn into another F-15 and Mig-25 accident, but well, we will never know for now, until someone lands a J-45 in Taiwan, until then, we'll do our best to counter that stealth threat. The public looks the other way again, just like when the Mig-25 was unveiled, fearing that the United States Air Force lost strategic value and air superiority. 

“I think so, boss,” the co-worker says. He is older than I am, heck, probably old enough to become my father if my parents have me in their 20s. His white hair indicated his old age, alongside his eye bags indicating hours of working in the middle of the night to fix the issues on the airframe. “No one is as enthusiastic as you are.” 

“C’mon, old man, I’m just your regular person, nothing more, nothing less,” I grab a coffee mug from the top of the generator and walk closer to him. I give the mug to him. “You look tired. Maybe some coffee will help.” 

“Thanks, my newly born granddaughter kept me awake at night,” he replies as he sipped on my coffee. 

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“And that’s why I haven’t gotten married yet,” I nod and shrug. Besides, at this point, most people know me as the old hag that has a strange love for military hardware, for some unknown reasons. I don’t mind about it, though. 

The two of us walk outside of the hangar through a small door guarded by two people from the air force 24th Special Tactic Squadron. They’re the creme-de-la-creme of the air force special operation force, and I only know it because I am the vice director of this project. If not, I’ll mistake them for regular air force personnel. 

It’s not like I haven’t served in the air force either, both of my feet are gone, replaced with prosthetics, thanks to the IED back in Libya, but I feel better that our hardware makes it less likely for our fellow servicemen to die even though I can’t help them in the front line. Both are good, in short. 

“Do you want to come over for thanksgiving dinner?” he offers. 

“No thanks,” I shrug before I cross the street of the air base.

BAM!

A large force hits me from my side, throwing me off the road and I land on the side of the road with my head landing on the curb first. Suddenly, pain radiates from my chest. What was that? Suddenly, it feels hard to breathe and I can’t feel the tip of my fingers.

I then look at the road, dark fluid comes out of my body and pours out into the asphalt road. Then, on the road, I saw what just hit me. It was not a tank, but a JLTV, an armored vehicle used by the military that weighed ten tons and it just hit me at high speed. 

I tried opening my mouth, but I couldn’t. My vision becomes blurry as well. I try raising my hand, but as I try to move every inch of muscle, it feels really heavy and painful. Then, a soldier walks out of the JLTV. I hear a faint shout from that direction as another soldier approaches from the hangar.

“PRIVATE, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” 

The old man approaches me, he tries to run with his fragile body. “Vice-director. Hey, are you ok? We need a medic!!!” He shouts with his old fragile voice, but I knew that I’d die here. I can’t move my hands, or my legs now and my own blood is choking me. 

Is this how I am going to die? In the middle of the road of an air force base after being hit by a stupid private that just earns his driving license? Slowly, I lose my ability to open my eyes, then, I lost the ability to hear anything. 

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