Chaos on the Western Front
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Chaos on the Western Front

Château sur les Rochers Airport, New Castle Province, Libertas Omnium Maximus
July 6th, 1991 - 8:22 AM

David Wilson gently set his cane aside as he took a seat on a stump overlooking the small private airport. Since his honorable discharge from the Maximusian Air Force in 1979, Wilson had always enjoyed spending his Sunday mornings watching the planes come in. They reminded him of the glory days as an idealistic airman, back when the dream was still alive within him. Today, however, something was different.

As he watched the bush planes lazily circle the airstrip before coming in for a landing he was filled not with nostalgic bliss but with an emptiness, the emptiness of being betrayed by the one thing you thought you understood. Gone where the days when he would squeeze into his old pilot uniform, pin on his rusted medals with pride and think to himself, "I served something bigger than myself." His nation had betrayed him, he knew that now. They had used him and kicked him to the curb when he was no longer a useful asset.

"Really", he mused to himself with an air of utter dejection, "they betrayed us all with their actions." His fists clenched tightly, "Today I will get my retribution."

He watched for a few minutes more, silently cursing those who had betrayed him. He finally observed a small private jet touch down on the tarmac. It was time for him to leave. Wilson stood sluggishly and snatched up his cane before making his way back to the street, slowly hobbling over the uneven ground of the airport perimeter to the sidewalk. With each step he took his conviction intensified. He was now utterly certain that his preparations over the past 3 years were fully justified. Before today there had always been a hint of doubt. There was now resolve. It would be a 10 minute walk back to his small cottage. 3 years planning would come to fruition in just 9.

As Wilson stepped onto the sidewalk he reached into his shirt pocket and pressed a button on his cellphone. The phone displayed the word "armed" before shutting itself off. Wilson placed the bulky device back in his shirt pocket, smiled and thought to himself, "This will be a good day"

8:31 AM

The jet slowly taxied off of the runway and onto the tarmac of the tiny airport. It quickly serpentined through a few turns and pulled up to the gate. One of the jet's occupants mumbled something about loving private airports and how quick they were. At least, that is what the blackbox of the vehicle recorded.

The jet's blackbox would be found in a tree nearly 50 feet from the smoldering wreckage of the plane when first responders arrived 6 minutes later.
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