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Prologue
“Midnight is only the beginning.”


As he struggled through the tree limbs and under-brush, feeling the cold night dew and the thick fog on the back of his throat, all that went through his mind was, “I can’t die yet.” He knew they were following him. He knew exactly what they were capable of, yet he had no idea what they were. They were dark as the night, without a single emotion showing across their blank faces. They moved sluggishly, but they gained ground on him quickly, without the slightest display of strain or fatigue. He almost felt sure they didn‘t even have these traits.

All that he’d discovered about them besides their appearances was that they were cold, fast, strong, and utterly efficient at what they did. These things weren’t even soldiers. They more closely resembled Death. Though his observances were rare, they never seemed to sleep, eat, not even breathe. His thoughts were intruded upon- maybe for the better- as his eyes finally focused on something luminescent. He suddenly broke through the last stretch of forest and stood, though weakly and gasping for air, in the deep snow, gazing upon the place he’d known and loved for so long.



Chapter one: Haven for the Heart
“Gott gibt mir craft dir meinung.”


Blake stood outside in the wilderness, the first of the winter wind nipping frostily at his fingers and nose. His attire was as usual, grey cotton pants and a short-sleeve shirt. He saw the entire scene, not with his sky-blue eyes, but with his imagination. It all came together before him. Here would be a fireplace, there a hallway, maybe a staircase right here. As he surveyed the surrounding area and ran his right hand softly through his thick, brown hair, he noted the natural beauty of the whole location. This was the main reason he planned to build his hotel in this spot. He felt it a shame though, that he should contaminate this wonderful resource, one of which little remained.

His lips barely moved, but his eyes flickered as he stated strongly, “Gott gibt mir craft dir meinung.” These words mean nothing to many, but to him, they stated “God give me strength of mind.” It took less than a week for him to get everything scheduled. Strange that the government moved that fast, especially for a fourteen year old, such as himself. He had the building plans, his own drawings of course, and the grants. Despite the fact that he’d been given the extremely bountiful inheritance he’d received from his father, the Ruriusian Republic simply refused to let him finance the building. He guessed it was their way of thanking him for the things his parents had done for the Gaian Defense Corps. Obviously, he didn’t mind this at all. Even for one as wealthy as himself, that much concrete, steel, and the type of supplies he wanted were hard to come by.

Within the month, construction on Haven Hotel had begun. It started with an idea, just like every other building, or even hotel. This one, though, was different. It served more purposes than just a hotel. This was a lifelong dream, a home, a military installation, and a battlefield. All that was yet to come though, for he had a long journey ahead of him. He had much to learn, and even more to lose. He had no way to sense what was ahead of him, and no clue as to the trials that he would have to overcome. His dreams and hopes for this location had to wait though, the Gaian Strategic Air Force was waiting for him so they could begin the branch’s first campaign.

As his convoy neared the location for launch of campaign “Jack Frost”, his cell-phone rang. He laughed to himself after noticing the caller-ID. The call was from Tyrone, who was only two vehicles behind him. He sobered himself as he began some small talk with him, thinking the whole time of the first mission. His first mission, his team’s first mission, the GSAF’s first mission. They couldn’t mess this one up, and he knew it. Saying he was nervous would only partly tell the story.

He wished to himself that he could wait till he had more time and experience with flying combat missions, at least before they threw him and his two closest friends into the most advance aerial vehicle ever designed. Of course, they were raised on these. They adapted themselves to the pilot, so the pilot had to adapt himself to the plane. He had to be raised alongside it, like a childhood friend. His training began in Germany. At twelve years old, he was sent there to attend college. As he was away, he received a blunt, and very simple letter that carried the worst news he had ever gotten, even to this day.

This was a topic for another time, though. His eyes began to well up just from thinking about it, and he didn’t want his nerves shot right now. Briefing began at 0200 hours. The plan was a simple reconnaissance mission over a small mountain range nearly twelve miles northeast of the capital city, Isano. This was a small mission, but it was really intended as a warm-up for the unit. The first thing on their list of objectives was to circle the base a few times to get themselves accustomed to the updated cockpit.

All the previous gauges and most of the switches had been replaced with mercury touch-screens. This was the first modification of the original design, which was mainly made by his father and mother. After these small introductions, the unit was to refuel and leave the base’s airspace to scout the designated location. They weren’t expecting anything at all, and it’s funny how what you expect and want can manipulate your thoughts on what you actually find. Thirteen minutes after achieving objective number one, the group had reached the spot.

Blake’s place in the formation, left wingman, gave him the best view in the group, bringing to light that they were at low altitude, circling around the right side of the mountain range. He felt competitive with the leader of the unit, Tyrone, most of the time, but right now, he didn’t mind rubbing in their face his advantage point over them. Blake said loudly over the radio, “Man, look at that view.” Tyrone replied quickly, “Slow down a bit so I can see.” Blake, not willing to let him gain any ground over him, argued back, “You know that’s against protocol.” At this, Jonathan, also known as Biggie, stopped the childish arguing by pointing out a small concrete building wedged between two mountains.

Biggie’s aircraft tilted to the side a bit so he could see the area a bit better. He mentioned in a deep, nervous voice over the radio, “Control, there weren’t any military installations mentioned on the map.” Mai, the radio specialist for control, replied, “There aren’t supposed to be.” Tyrone stopped Biggie’s reply by joining in the conversation, “Control, what’s going on here?” Mai, unsure of herself, “I don’t know. McCarty, what’s your reading on the building? Any thermal readings on the site?” Biggie, relaxed now, finished the incidental conversation, “Negative. Nothing showing up on scanners. Out.” The mission continued on without a hitch, and much less conversation between the unit.



Chapter Two: When In Germany…
“Death isn’t the end."


Blake returned to his quarters in the barracks shortly after debriefing. He could barely maintain his composure. Ever since they discovered that the site was an abandoned laboratory, thoughts of his parents had flooded his mind more relentlessly than the Nile itself could. By the time he had reached his room, his eyes were nearly swollen. He led himself, mostly by touch, to his bathroom, where he made futile attempts to calm down.

After only two months away from home, spies from the enemy country, Omarsia, had found the location of his parents. It is needless to say what their next course of action was. So here he was, alone on earth, with the last person that knew him well enough to even be considered family, his childhood friend, Lillith Arnstrum, would prove to have just as dramatic a destiny as his parents. Yet memories of her were even more painfully etched into Blake’s mind.

Records indicate that on May the first, 2003, Lillith Nicole Arnstrum was murdered by enemies of state. Cause of death and location of murderers unknown. The time of death was estimated to be 3:45 p.m. Witnesses include several civilians, and a close friend, Keith Tilson Blakeney II, age thirteen. This only gave the facts though. The whole story proved to be much colder and harsh than what the reporters and coroners wrote on their little slips of paper. They didn’t know her like he did, and they never could.

Six months had passed since Blake had returned from Germany. What time he did not spend sleeping, he spent around Lillith. She had grown at least six inches since he had left, she said he had grown even more. Her changes were much more obvious to him than his own though. She was the perfect example of a storybook girl. She was blonde, with long hair and blue eyes. Blake envied her for her eyes, because he always wished his were darker. She seemed to like his eyes the way they were, which he didn’t mind at all.

Due to the horrible “incident” with his parents, Lillith’s parents were more than happy to give Blake a place to stay, and he well compensated them for their hospitality. This was the first bliss he had entered into since the day he received the military letter speaking of his parents. He smiled more than enough for his cheeks to cramp often, and his seemingly permanent lack of humor or glee eroded quickly.

Blake and Lillith were walking through the town’s business hub one day, something they did often after their excursions into the wilderness surrounding Lillith’s family home. Blake was one for the trees and lakes, Lillith was entirely different. She preferred the city and often complained about the lack of company at their home, excluding Blake, of course. On the way to their regular convenient store near the other side of town, they decided to take the scenic route through the park.

Laughing over conversation featuring a movie they had watched the night before, they didn’t notice the men watching them on either side. One would be watering the grass, another walking a dog, and yet another would be sitting under a tree with a book. All of them paid no attention to the tasks they held to though, every one of them kept their eyes focused on Blake, mumbling into small microphones attached to their shirts.

They had an ambush prepared at the intersection of Fifth and Twenty-third street, chosen for it’s location along their usual route. It mattered not whether they traveled straight or through the park, they would still have to cross this intersection. One lonesome man, sprawled on an electronic store’s roof, waited with a rifle in his hand for the chance to take his shot. A distorted smirk crossed his face as Blake raced Lillith through the gateway entering the park, Blake in the lead.

The man pulled the rifle to his shoulder quickly, adjusting the scope for estimated distance and wind, then he leveled the sights. They didn’t rest on Blake’s torso though. Instead, they were focused on a young blonde trailing him. A slow pull of a trigger and the report of a round left the girl gasping for air on the sidewalk, bleeding heavily.

Blake turned around with a curious look on his face, though his wide smile and dimpled cheeks hadn’t changed. The curiosity faded once he saw the broken body of his closest friend laying sideways on the sidewalk, but his smile remained. The life that was in his eyes, any glint of any emotion, including happiness, died away that instant. He stared for several moments, numb with shock and unsure what to do. He did manage to keep himself up after his knees kissed the concrete, buckling from sudden exhaustion.



Chapter Three: Deja-vu…
“The past is buried for a reason.”


Blake cast a solemn glance at the carnage around him, breathing shallowly and adrenaline fueled. After taking in all there was to see, which wasn’t very much, his eyes met his blood-splattered hands and even more tears streamed from his already swollen eyelids and across his muddy face. Each small bundle of salt and water left a clean trace through the dirt and dust, sizzling on contact with the heated asphalt below him. He attempted to take a step towards the only other non-scorched body within several miles of where he feebly stood. The rubber soles of his shoes melted to the gooey black substance, the bottom of his feet too far from his mind to feel the burning sensation.

Only a few moments ago, he was holding the bloodied body of the one he loved, grasping her blonde hair tight in his hands. Now, he stared down at her corpse, oblivious to the missing buildings and life around him. All traces of civilization had faded, only a crater several miles in diameter remained. Unknown to him at the present time, people mad with power and jealous of all his country held dear were smiling evilly at the successful accomplishment of their objective. Half of Isano was ash alone, the other half devastated and demoralized by their neighbors final moments. This was their plan all along, their so called “Scenario.” Blake would come to hate these figures, making it his life’s work to destroy them and all they stood for. Hence a Haven for him and all those who sought the right.

Blake’s attention was quickly drawn back to the now, though. He was in left wing formation, staring off at a familiar mountain range. These runs had become frequent and boring as of late. Each time, more and more restrictions were removed from their planes and more freedom of choice had been given to them. Blake’s now attentive eyes glanced casually over the small concrete building they had seen so many times since that first mission. Had the sun been high in the sky, he never would have noticed anything different about the location. Though, as the sun was now drawing it’s last defiant breaths over the horizon, he became curious at the notice of lights at the large entrance to the building.

Blake spoke, not daring to pry his eyes from the lights in the distance in case they disappeared, “Tyrone, are those lights over there?” Tyrone laughed softly as his glance drifted slowly over to the designated spot, then he coughed heavily, “Uh… Yah! Of course I did! I was just waiting for one of you to notice.” Blake rolled his eyes, then pressed a button on his touch-screen, tinting his cockpit bubble as the world around him turned red. The two friendly aircraft to his right glowed a soft red at the nose, the figure of a sitting body glowing slightly brighter several meters back, then a bright red at the rear, exhaust. He turned back to the building, noticing several small squares, probably vehicles, and a small swarm of ant appearing beings.

“Mai, I thought this spot was clean.” There was part of a response, drowned out by the deafening sound of alarms below, followed by explosives. Blake’s eyes caught several plumes of smoke trailing upward from newly-appeared boxes in the ground. Another explosion caught his attention as he plane shook violently, Biggie’s plane erupting near him. His horrified face watched flaming bits of metal fall to the ground in what seemed to be an eternity before he was reminded of the enemy when Tyrone’s plane was clipped. A shout over the radio came before the plan spiraled down at a much faster pace, impacting with the ground at speeds exceeding super-sonic. His face turned numbly to the controls as he realized his dilemma, he had let the plane turn slowly towards the earth, speeding up quickly. This would end up saving his life, as the projectiles attempting to cross his path upwards couldn’t keep up with his descent. He jerked on the stick, bringing the blood out of his face as gravity increased several times.

Blake watched the horizon with an open mouth as distant sounds of familiar faces came over the radio, trying to contact a Tyrone. This name wasn’t new to him, but it wasn’t something he readily knew of. His hands performed robotic actions around the cockpit, things he had known to do automatically, but couldn’t remember practicing. He landed on an open plain in the soft, waving grass, the moon just now appearing. Blake slid the top of the cockpit, then attempted to climb out, only succeeding in meeting the ground within a split second. He rolled over, half-heartedly spitting dirt from his mouth as he stared up at the night sky. This was all of it. This was all he ever knew. It was all gone. He coughed heavily, but didn’t cry. There wasn’t anything left to cry about, so he didn’t see much point in doing so.