The humming of the spinning turbines echoes inside the c***pit of an F/A-18 Super Hornet, sitting on the flight deck of an Aircraft Carrier that was currently sailing in the Black Sea. The pilot made a final check of his aircraft's systems before the catapult launch. His visor was up at the moment, displaying his hazel eyes underneath. “Ready in the back, Viper?” He asked his Weapons System Officer, a smirk creeping across his face as he turned back to look at him.

    “Ready.” Viper replied, giving a thumbs up. He watched the yellow coated catapult crewman give the signal for full power. All he had to do was sit back and wait. The sound of the turbines spooling up grew louder, and a loud hissing filled the c***pit. A sound of pure bliss. The aircraft casted its few thousand degrees jet exhaust against the Blast Deflectors. The afterburner grew semi-transparent in the midday light. He reached up and grabbed the handle on the canopy, having seen the catapult crewman give the signal for launch. Like that, the aircraft rocketed forward, being pulled by the shuttle, and pushed by the powerful engines. He felt his body slam into the back of his seat from the sudden gain in speed. The Super Hornet reached the end of the flight deck and shot off the front at nearly 200 MPH, but they didn’t fall into the water.

    “Gear up.” The pilot said. It was something he said almost every time they launched; it had become second nature.

    “Ready for some good hunting, Reaper?” Viper asked in a somewhat pumped up manner.

    “I live to hunt.” He replied back, almost like it was instinctive. “How much you wanna bet it’s the Ruskies?” Reaper asked. While doing so, he had stood the aircraft on its tail for a vertical climb. The g-force pushed his ass into his seat, almost as if a horse was forcing his shoulders down. It was nothing to him. A nearly 5g maneuver. Within seconds, the aircraft was in the clouds above. It became a guardian angel of the Big Dog.

    “We’re in the Black Sea. Who else is it gonna be? The Romanians?” Viper shrugged. His hand remained on the handle screwed to the canopy. The carrier had gotten buzzed by several Russian fighters and bombers throughout the few weeks they were present in the Black Sea. However, it was to be expected. A carrier was not something to sweep under the rug--especially one escorted by TWO Arleigh Burke Destroyers. What better way to show America’s commitment to its allies, and Ukraine currently under siege? Through their talk and the radio chatter, the aircraft reached the big number of 761 mph. The vapor formed a cone around the back half of the aircraft for a brief moment, producing a deep sonic boom.

    “Sentinel-One, moving to intercept Unidentified target at 048223917 Angels 10. Tally One, over.” Viper said.

    “Sentinel-One, continue trajectory to intercept, howcopy?”

    “Copy that.” Viper couldn’t help but feel a bit of fear about the situation. What if this was the interception that resulted in a dogfight? What if this was their final flight? Two questions that always bugged him. One that made him sink back in fear in his mind. If there was anyone he could put his full, undying trust in, it was Reaper. This was his third year flying with him, and they had completed an uncountable amount of strikes in Syria. During those periods, he had more than enough chances to place his trust in him. All those times, he did, and never regretted it. That put a smile on his face.
---

    Six minutes had passed since they reported their tracking of the unidentified target. Whatever it was, it was highly unpredictable in its movements, and appeared to just be flying around within the strike group’s radar range. Several times, it had made a complete 180 and began to head back the way it came, but that was short lived. The unidentified aircraft irregularly raised and dropped in altitude like vic-viper in Gradius. One moment it was at 10,000 feet, the next, it was at 20,000. Several times, it dropped to 4,000 feet.

    “This is impossible.” Viper commented with a slightly horrified look.

    “Yeah, no s***. I’ve never seen anything perform like this,” He chuckled afterwards. “I bet you the Ruskies inside are throwing up all over themselves….if the vodka isn’t making them do that already.” Reaper barked with laughter.

But that was one of the new feelings Viper was getting. With rapid descents and climbs such as this, the aircraft and pilot(s) would be put under catastrophic stress. To make matters worse, it was tremendously fast. “This can’t be the Ruskies, Reaper. No f***in’ way.” Not even the finest of mankind’s aircraft could move like this.

    “We’ll see. We’re seven miles out,” He replied without much distress in his voice. He looked out the side of the canopy, checking his wing to see that the AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles were still attached. If he weren’t flying an aircraft, he would scold himself. Of course the missile would still be attached to his wing. “No worries, man. We’re armed and ready for combat if this…” He zoned off. He didn’t want to refer to the target as a Russian fighter if the proof was non-existent. They could only go off of predictions.

    “Two miles and closing…” Viper reported, keeping an eye out. The white puffy clouds lazily drifting around could be concealing the target. He couldn’t see anything. He glanced at the radar several times before realizing something interesting. “It’s slowing down?” Viper c***ed an eyebrow and stared awkwardly at the dot on radar. The aircraft had dramatically slowed its speed and had leveled out at their altitude. He mumbled something Reaper would call BS. “I don’t see it. How about you?” He asked.

    Reaper drummed his fingers on his thigh with a brief shake of his head. “Tower, this is Sentinel-One, closing in on the unidentified target, over.” Reaper stated through the radio. His expectations to hear someone reply back had fallen flat. He cleared his throat. “I say again, Tower, this is Sentinel-One, closing in on the unidentified target, over.” There was no way that they were out of radio range. With that, a simple interception had turned into a situation of questions. Was there even a Russian--or enemy fighter in the skies with them? The radar was screaming, “YES!”, but his eyes and doubt protested.

    The bogie on radar was close. On top of them in fact. By now, his eyes were darting around, trying to match an object with the dot on radar. He tapped the screen. “So I’m gonna place my vote on the possibility of the radar malfunctio--.”

    “No. No. This jet was spotted on the radar of three different ships. I doubt the Destroyer’s and Carrier’s radars are malfunctioning at the same time. What about this boy? You think his nose is sniffing out a false trail too?” He interrupted as he turned his body to look back at him.

    Viper laughed at his reaction. “Just a thought. I didn’t mean to offend your boy.” He centered his attention on the clouds and blue sky outside. He noticed there was a flash, almost like a bolt of searing hot lightning streaked past. His head whipped to his left in an instant. Finally, something to match the dot, but it wasn’t what he expected. Not even close. His entire being went on lockdown.

What they flew beside was much larger than their aircraft with forward swept wings, and a single engine in the back. There was no glass canopy, making it impossible to see who--or what was piloting the angular and sleek jet. Instead, there were over 30 built in cameras that produced a red glow, seemingly giving the craft “eyes”. The wings suddenly rotated, and were now sweeping backwards.

    “What the f***?”

    “I don’t know, Viper. I-I can’t even…”

    The black jet suddenly came to an instant halt in midair. The F-18 overshot it, unable to do the same as the irregular aircraft. It produced a weird sound, the camera’s blinked and zoomed in on the F-18. The foreign jet took the term “0-60” and made it “0-400”. Before the two even knew it, they had become the prey of this interception.

    “He’s on my six!” Reaper banked hard to the right, causing the wings to flex and the rudders to flutter. He could feel his g-suit tightening to keep the blood from leaving his upperbody. Their pursuer was more than persistent, and curious as well. The cameras appeared to be taking photos as a few of its many cameras produced a flash. Reaper pushed his aircraft to its limits, banking left and right to attempt to shake his opponent. The black craft seemed to move around as if there was no air to limit its capabilities. He rolled the jet upside down and he yanked back on the flightstick. The clouds blasted from their speed. With a quick flick of his wrist, the jet rolled, allowing him to pull up and head back the way he had come. Still, the unknown enemy pursued them without worry. He popped off a few flares, in fear that he would be painted and blown out of the sky. With each high-g maneuver, the Super Hornet lost speed.

    “Tower, this is Sentinel-One, we have been engaged by a--uh--s***, I can’t think straight!” Viper yelled shakily over the radio, but to no avail. Between the enemy trailing them perfectly, the constant g-force, and no radio contact, he couldn’t decipher which one was worse. And he thought all his other missions were stressful.

    “Come on...come on...a little closer you curious son of-ha!” Reaper engaged speed brakes, reduced throttle, and pulled hard on the stick. The jet bled majority of its speed as its nose went up at a high angle. This was known as a high alpha. He glanced out on his right as the jet streaked by like a bullet. Now they were on the offensive. “He’s straight ahead! Lock’em up, Viper!” Reaper demanded. He leveled out the aircraft and raised throttle to full power. With the jet now on full afterburner, they regained a decent amount of speed to pursue their predator turned prey.

    Viper shakily tapped a few buttons and pulled his visor down. He could clearly see the Heads-Up-Display. Eyes locked on the prey, a beautiful buzzing sound went off. “Fox 2!” He watched with newfound courage as the Sidewinder missile on their wing blasted off at an unmatched speed, leaving a trail of smoke behind it. His smile remained, and widened at the point of impact. A bright flash occurred, and the back of the enemy craft became engulfed in flame. He could clearly see it was losing speed and dropping.

    “Nice shot!” Reaper congratulated. He flicked his wrist to the left and the aircraft rolled eagerly as he broke away from the engagementj . “Scratch one!”

    Viper lifted his visor and slumped over. Through his adrenaline, he had not noticed how hard his heart was beating, or how long he had been holding his breath. He took a moment to himself, praying to God that this situation would never happen again.

    “You good, Viper?” Came a friendly voice from the front.

    He nodded slowly, then held up a thumb to where he could see. He could hear Reaper laughing over the radio. “It’s not funny.” He protested, trying hard to be serious. He could put this moment on his list of why he would and could trust Reaper with his life. He was one hell of a pilot. Regardless of how much he was scared, he found it funny that they managed to shoot down a jet that far and away surpassed the capabilities of theirs--or so they believed.

    The c***pit lit up in a bright light, and beside them was the jet they thought they had shot down. Reaper’s mouth dropped open, left in nothing but shock. To add to his shock, he could clearly see where the missile struck, but there was no damage. Not even a scratch. He couldn’t even voice his thoughts.

“But we--” He noticed the aircraft beside them was turning, and so were they. “Reaper!” He called.

    “Its not me! It won’t respond!” He answered back, the shock clear in his voice. He pulled on the flight stick, increased and decreased throttle, and tapped buttons on the console. Nothing was responding to his will. The idea of being taken for a ride by an unknown jet was less than pleasing. The two turbofans spooled up to full power, and so did the single engine on the back of the foreign aircraft.

    “This thing is going to take us somewhere we don’t want to be. It’s now, or never.” Viper placed his hand on the yellow handle between his legs, under the seat. “Bail?” He asked.

    “Bail!” Reaper agreed. They both pulled their ejection levers. Expecting to be catapulted out of the aircraft and into the open sky, the two braced. The ejection seat didn’t work. He yanked the lever several more times, hoping this was some kind of sick joke. The sick joke was, reality played no games.

    Viper slammed his hand on the console, looking out at the aircraft beside his. “We can’t eject, nor can we control our damn aircraft,” He sighed deeply, letting his head fall back onto the headrest. “This is bullshit...bullshit…” He repeated that a few times over.

    “I’m more concerned on why this thing isn’t shooting at us, or at least running us into the ocean.” He murmured. It was clear to understand why he was speaking so low. The two shared a scale of stress and worry.

    “Why would it? A Sidewinder was completely useless to this jet. Obviously, we’re no threat to whoever is piloting this thing.” He replied.

Viper did have some truth to his words. They did have a few options. Shoot out the canopy with their pistols and hope the supersonic winds don’t snap their heads back OR--they could sit back and hope their fate was something quick and painless. Either way, both seemed to aim toward death. Reaper rubbed his shoulder and looked back at his stressed friend. “Hey man,” He forced a smile. “We can proudly say to whoever is piloting this thing that, ‘you’re more advanced, but we still got the first hit.’” He chuckled. While doing so, he failed to notice that the aircraft was slowing down, then it completely came to a stop.

    “Holy s***!” Viper’s eyes widened as he looked ahead. The canopy tore off the jet, and so did their seat belts. The air was cool, and the clouds had dwindled greatly. He felt some kind of invisible force grip his entire body like a little girl with a barbie doll. He kicked his legs and struggled fiercly as both he and his best buddy were lifted out of the c***pit of the floating F-18. He gritted his teeth, meeting eyes with a white man who appeared to be in his late 20’s. He had black hair with a bit of dark red in it, and yellow eyes. He wore a black and red leather jacket with a black shirt underneath, black jeans, and boots.

    Reaper couldn’t even begin to understand how this was happening. He glanced over at his F-18, which was still floating in its spot. The enemy jet moved slowly from the side of the Super Hornet, and placed itself at the side of the mysterious man. “This can’t be real...this is some Marvel-type s***.” He laughed in disbelief. All three of them were flying--more like the man was flying, but they were being suspended.

    There was an air about the man that complimented the look on his face. He looked displeased, and the air around him shifted in temperature. “I don’t appreciate you two shooting at my drone,” He said sternly, his yellow eyes locking onto Viper. He held up his gloved hand, and motioned it in a way that turned the F-18 upside down.

“You mean to tell me--” Viper glanced at the black craft flying behind him. “That thing was a drone?” He was breathing hard, his constant struggling had tired him out.

    “Yes. I call it OverEye,” He said. The drone appeared to defy all gravity as it rolled several times, then righted itself.

    Reaper moved his head as best as he could to glance at his buddy. He was pissed. “All this time it was a f***ing drone! A drone! Not a man, or a woman, but a f***ing computer!?” His pride was struck with a blow he would remember forever.
“Though I’m not happy that you two shot my drone, I must congratulate you for your effort. No one on this planet has ever been able to get so close, much less hit it.”
    Viper’s eyes widened a bit. His fear was replaced with curiosity. He built up the courage to ask what Reaper couldn’t. “What...what are you? Why are you on our planet?” He asked.

    The man smirked. He closed his hand. The F-18 in his invisible grip began to compact, the sound of metal groining and snapping could be heard. When it reached its limits, the fuel ignited, but the explosion was contained within a field. The only thing seen was a bright light. “Your actions proved that humanity is not yet ready to interact with other life,” He waved his hand in a dismissive way, casting the wreckage of what used to be a Multirole jet into the distance. “I thought your Rules Of Engagement had changed. You’re not allowed to fire upon a UFO unless fired upon, and OverEye did no such thing but observe one of your prized vessels. Therefore-” He tightened his invisible grip on the two. “-those questions will remain a mystery.”

    “What a tease.” Reaper could barely breath. “You don’t even give us your name before you screw us.” He choked out.

    He huffed. “Humans. The only race of this galaxy to not extend their hands out to extraterrestrial life. It’s no wonder your race is the least advanced, and why every other species observe all of you like rats in a tank.” He loosened his grip on the two. 

    “Humans are the least advanced?” Viper thought deeply about that. Not only had his words proved that they were not alone in the universe, but they were not capable of defending themselves if they were to be invade.

    He nodded slowly, then looked off at the clouds in the distance. “A trespasser. That’s what I am to your people. Call me such.” He turned his back on all of them. “I’ll let this engagement slide. You two will be transported back to your carrier.” He could hear sighs of relief leave their mouths. “However,” He cut in. “Keep in mind that I will not hesitate to sink your entire fleet, should it come to the case of me defending myself.” Before they could protest, everything turned bright.

    The two found themselves laying on the deck of the USS George H.W. Bush, a massive commotion around them. When they looked up, they saw Trespasser floating above the deck, his eyes observing everyone. “What’s he doing?” Reaper asked.

    “I want the attention of everyone on this pathetic excuse for a ‘floating city’!” He called. “I come bearing a warning that represents all extraterrestrial life!” He yelled out, his voice carrying a sense of superiority and authority. He held up his hand, seeing the massive CIWS (Close In Weapon System) aim for him. The gun gave a burst of 20mm rounds at him. He shuddered at the fact that they were using something so weak to attack him with. The unseeable barrier surrounding him did a perfect job of repelling the assault of rounds back at the CIWS. That was the end of it’s rampage. He smirked. “As I predicted.” He used his other hand to grab a parked F-18 Super Hornet with some kind of invisible force, and lifted it up. He swung his arm down, launching it nose first into the deck of the carrier. Like that, the flight deck was set into a beautiful blaze. Panic spread like a fire igniting alcohol across the deck. He locked his eyes on the two Naval Destroyers sailing beside the carrier, all targeting him with MK45 Five inch guns. He grinned.

    The sweet booms of cannons going off had echoed all around. Super sonic rounds ripped toward Trespasser, but stopped just short of him. “Be gone.” He murmured, spreading his hand out, like he was grabbing something. The several five inch rounds fired back at the cannons they came from with nearly three times the force, tearing through the guns and rendering them useless with small, but powerful booms. His head shook with disappointment. “Sort yourselves out! One day, you will be approached by other life forms! It’s inevitable!” His expression grew dark. “Heaven knows they won’t be as patient as I am!” He lifted into the air briefly before disappearing in a hot white flash.

    "Reaper...what the hell was that?!" Exclaimed Viper as he jumped to his feet. Cloud filled the skies from the rage flame on the front of the carrier. Men and women rushed to extinguish the flames and secure the carrier.

    Reaper just let out a laugh in sick disbelief. He stood up rather slowly. "Take a look around, Viper! What does it look like? Do you know what this means?" He asked in a snappy mood.

    Viper shrank back. "Reaper, just chill." He said with his hands up. He didn't know why he was yelling at him.

    Reaper tossed his helmet off to the side with a CLUNK. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'm not gonna chill. Not yet." He turned his back to him. "When I was younger, I used to read comics about these kinds of abilities. Cool men and women who were able to fly and do unnatural things with their minds." He gave a sigh, then swung around to face him "We--the United States Navy--just got our asses kicked by a freak! Theres no way we can explain this like a cover up! So don't ask me to chill!" He fired.

    "Reaper, I'm not trying to be your enemy. I just want to keep you calm." He said with his hands still up, almost like his friend was holding him at gunpoint. His anger was like a rifle.

    He shook his head. "The media is gonna put the blame on Russia, and our country is gonna cry out for blood." He walked away from him while rubbing his face. "Leave me alone. I'm going to help put out these fires..." He murmured darkly as he left his friend in a storm of worry. Conspiracies would arise to explain this event. At the most, the US and Russia would press their knives a bit closer to each other's throats. Trespasser's warning would stick with everyone for the rest of their lives.