The Arena; 2100

0. The War

World War 2. With sorrow, with fear, without hope. A war that claimed millions. A war that changed us.
Ancient articles and tablets claimed we were descendants of a greater race, Humans. A war separated Humans, and they claimed planets. Somehow, by any miracle, everyone, even the base Humans, were reset back to the stone age. To start anew.
The descendents didn't bear the technology Humans once did. We were all reset. All the splinter species forgot, all buried in civil war and terror. Reset to the stone age. We restarted, no, everything, the planets, even the Humans, all restarted.
That's only what ancient prophecies and stone tables claim. The only issue is how they all speak of the same turn of events, and Humans.
There was an extremely secretive project conducted by the British Royal Air Force after the Battle of Britain, for whatever reason it was to employ a certain amount of women who fit a specific set of categories; widows, husbands went to war in the RAF and died in battle, and if they were willing. The secret plan was only able to employ a decent handful of women, but many were weeded out during their training to become flight commanders.
Fox Parsons was one of these, married to one John Parsons, who died in the Battle of Britain. Fox grieved for days, but when the War Office came to tell her about the program, Fox was more than ready to go forward with the plan. According to the War Office and RAF, Fox was "The most competent member of the Widow Division," and, "One of the best trainees in RAF history as far as we're concerned."
Fox Parsons stood as a monument for the Widow Program, and inspired it to continue. She was wiped of any identity and by many, presumed dead. But she lived as a flight commander. Participating in multiple bombing raids over Germany, Fox gained a reputation for her crew, but not herself. It was integral that the existence of Fox was forgotten, friends, family, lovers, everyone.
In 1943, the crew of Fox's Lancaster bomber, nicknamed Tailless, after an operation where the plane narrowly escaped from German fighters while missing a part of its tail, was sent on a mission to go to Canada, from there the plane and crew would transfer into Australian control. The plan would require no effort other than flying and navigating, both were easy to the experienced crew.
The early flight from Dover to Belfast, after which they would refuel and get to some airfield outside of Fredericton, was without issue. The next day they set to New Brunswick.
All was well, save for pilot George Goodall having a gut feeling that something was amiss with the navigation machine. "Commander," he called out behind him, "Commander!" He called again. After a few seconds, Fox came from the back compartment, looking puzzled, "What, George?"
"The navigation machine seems to be messed up, look at this," he pointed at the machine, then at his personal compass. The compass said they were heading northwest, but the machine said they were only heading west.
"There's magnets in this thing. I still don't know why you bring that thing, it's useless unless we're downed," Fox said reassuringly, patting George's shoulders and leaving him.
The plane was unarmed, only two of the defensive machine guns had ammo, and it wouldn't be enough to defend themselves if more than a few German fighters showed up. No bombs, few bullets, even the radar was taken off to be put on a different plane, since the Canadians said they would have one for Tailless. The entire operation seemed sketchy since the chance of being spotted by a U-boat, or found by aircraft during their flight to Belfast was already terrifying, then over the Atlantic was even more terrifying, German battleships were known to be in the area. Without any armaments, the plane was vulnerable.
Luckily, they made it past known battleship territory, however none of the crew knew that. The air grew from uncomfortable, to cold, to bitter in the span of a half hour, and everyone felt it.
Most of the crew just brushed it off as "Cold Canadian air," and didn't give it a second thought. Fox knew better, she thought for a moment, debating if maybe George was right, or if it was just Canada. Then it hit her.
Fox rushed to the cockpit, and bugged George, "Do you have that compass?"
George looked unamused at Fox, "It's useless unless we're downed," he mocked, "Of course I have it!"
"Let me have it," Fox ordered, holding her hand out waiting to be given the compass.
George took the small gilded compass and handed it to Fox with an unamused look on his face.
Fox nodded and walked around the plane, holding the compass. No matter what, the front of the plane was northwest. All fears were affirmed by Fox. She turned to the confused crew and weakly drew out, "We're going the wrong way."
The crew looked at her first with amusement, but after a second of her serious face, they all panicked. Never in the plane's history, no, the crew's history, had they experienced an issue with the navigation of all things. The bomb bay not opening, the machine guns being jammed, even the tail being missing, but never with the navigation.
The radioman, Edward Hall, instantly rushed to the radio and turned it on. "Hello? Hello? Anyone come in? Yes... Yes, we're one of the bombers coming to New Brunswick... Yes! We're Tailless... We are? Great!.. Greenland? How?.. Uh oh... Well thank you anyways, it was a pleasure to serve," Edward turned back to the crew, a look of either terror or sadness was in his face, Fox and the crew couldn't tell. "We're over Greenland. Canada can't send anyone for us."
The crew all stood in stunned silence for a few seconds. Some of the crew simply collapsed to the walls, while others just stood there, speechless. It seemed like an easy fix, but with the ever increasing snowfall and broken navigation machine, it would be no easy task.
Fox rushed over to the cockpit, "George. You were right, we're going the wrong direction. Your stupid compass was right," she handed him the compass.
"Did you ever doubt me?" George chuckled as he took the compass in his hands, putting it in his pocket.
Fox sighed and went back to the other crew. One issue after another it seemed.
Crash!
The crew felt the plane tremble with a thud. Edward Hall was the first to look out a window; one of the engines blew up. "Commander, look at this," Fox walked to him and Edward pointed out the window. There was a small fire on the right wing, the close engine was blown to hell and the far one was smoking and slowing.
Crash!
"The far left is blown!" William Connolly, the bomb bay operator, called out.
Crash!
Fox looked out, the far right engine blew up. Her face said it all: fear, sadness, resignation, everything. Edward Hall took initiative and ran as fast as he could to the cockpit, "George, set her down! The engines are blown!"
"That's what those were. I'll see," George said somewhat calmly, although his voice still shuttered with fear. He lowered the throttle, pointed the plane down, and activated the landing gear.
After the longest 5 minutes in all of their lives, the plane scrapped against the ice and snow of Greenland, the blizzard only intensifying by the minute.
A side door opened and the stairs came out. Not the most pleasant opening by far, but a way to escape the cramped Tailless.
Nobody was prepared for the chilly air, the seemingly constant snowfall, or the cracking sounds of ice. With those sounds, everyone had to get out, whether they wanted to, or not. The doors were small, so it was one at a time.
Everyone was out, then the plane crashed below the ice. Lost to the sea and snow, Tailless. Everyone had a sign of relief, but the ice continued to crack, like Tailless was haunting them from the grave.
"Divine intervention," William Connolly whispered, he was the first to run. He didn't know the right way, all he knew was eventually it would get warmer and there wouldn't be snow, so he ran.
William Connolly was an expert bomb bay operator, among the best in the British Royal Air Force. He didn't have a strong physique, rather scrawny. Not as much as Elliott Watts, one of the machine gunners. The crew often teased Elliott by name-calling, skinwalker or skin man, since he was a real scrawny guy, especially for his ripe age of 19.
Elliott Watts looked out, there was nothing to be seen. Snow, ice, more snow, and the footprints left behind by his fleeing crewmate. He decided against following William, since William had probably already collapsed from exhaustion or hypothermia.
Fox and the rest of the crew all stood silently stunned, that was their only way out of the frozen waste, gone below water. Although peculiarly it wasn't submerged too deep, the gray colour scene could still be faintly seen and bubbles of steam from the fires were still popping. Elliott looked at it, then at everyone else.
"Edward. I'll get you that radio," Elliott said as he took off his vest and all the heavy equipment, jumping into the frozen water he swam. They saw his figure disappear. For a good 2 minutes they waited, nobody believed he could return, but alas, from the water, an exhausted and bright red Elliott came out, coughing but he had the radio.
Everyone was reasonably baffled by the act, and Edward immediately began to work his magic, trying every channel but all in vain as the blizzard grew too strong to make any communications, and Edward knew that, "We need to wait it out, or get out of here," He said, throwing the headphones down in frustration.
Everyone but Fox sighed. She only silently cried at the news. The freezing snow is starting to take its toll on the remaining crew, and one is gone, probably for good.
Elliott started to crawl out of the water when his entire body tensed up, tightened, his breathing stopped, and he fell under like some frozen blue statue. Fox ran to the hole and reached her hand in the water, only barely grabbing one of his fingers, which shattered off and his body was dragged under, a cruel painful fate for someone who had potential.
Fox looked at the hole, her face was dropped, and she was on the edge of tears with everything that had happened in the past 20-ish minutes. She had to take out her anger, and punched the snow and ice. Cracking sounds were heard everywhere around the remaining crew, and they dropped like flies.
The unstable ice consumed all but Fox Parsons and George Goodall. They looked at each other with sadness. Unable to contain any emotion, Fox rushed to George and broke down, tears running down her face. Her clad black uniform with shoulder pauldrons with distinct golden spider web designs blew in the bitter air. George in his basic brown pilot jumpsuit could only try to comfort his crying commander.
For all his career, George had looked up to Fox as a role model. She never showed emotions, even when men died, she of course had a mysterious backstory, since women weren't really permitted to roles like hers, and her uniform differed greatly from other flight commanders, mainly in the should pauldrons that had a black and gold spider web pattern. But he had always brushed it off as her higher rank of authority, since many flight commanders and military officers took orders from her. Perhaps she was a general for all he knew. Furthermore, he had grown feelings for Fox, she wasn't the most beautiful woman, nor the nicest or friendliest. There was something special about her, it was either her beautiful blue eyes, that almost hummed with light, or her black hair, so well kept it flowed like streams of coal and black sand. He never knew himself, but after the war he thought he would confess, even though he knew it would certainly be denied, he still wanted to try.
But now, standing a little taller than him, Fox was crying into George's shoulders, the beautiful woman he went on suicide missions with all the time was there, exposing her tears to him. The feeling was almost too surreal, like it was a test, a set-up. He couldn't show his emotion back, he didn't feel the same. He wanted to cry, to release himself, but now wasn't the time. The ice below them was cracking, he could feel the icy water slowly seeping onto his boots. Fox felt the water, too.
The ice cracked, Fox held tighter. "George..."
George looked at Fox, with a single tear, he fell back. The ice and water consumed him, and in his last breaths, he held Fox as close to the surface as possible. But both were consumed by the water.