Area 88: He'll Pay for It
All characters of Area 88 are under the copyright of Kaoru Shintani, TV Asahi and Group TAC.
This is based on the 2004 version, not the 1980's version as I heard that it did not do well.
Shin Kazama, lone Japanese national in the Area 88 base, ponders on his presence in the isolated Royal Asranian Air Force Base. A one shot story.
"I hate this place!"
A single Asian man with blonde hair, took a stroll near the fighter jet hangers where most of the mercenary fighter planes are being stored.
"I really hate this place!"
His name was Shin Kazama, who was plucked from his graduation after completing commercial pilot training with his "best friend" Satoru Kanzaki, another potential candidate to be a full-time commercial pilot for Yamato Airlines (YAL), one of the biggest airline companies in Asia.
"I can't believe that my so-called friend tricked me into signing me up for the Royal Asranian Mercenary Air Force!"
Images of Shin, being drunk and scribbling his signature on a piece of paper on a bar back in Paris, even made Shin more angry at the actions of his pal.
"But in order to get out of here, I'll need to collect the 1.5 million dollar requirement so that I can get out of this god forsaken place."
Shin rubbed his face with his palm, removing the sweat coming down from his forehead.
"God! All the killing is tearing me up from inside!"
Examining his Chance-Vought F-8E Crusader fighter jet parked in one of the fighter jet stalls complete with all its AIM-9 Sidewinder mounted under on its hardpoints under its wings, images of a female appeared on his mind, as well as the image of his haughty pal.
"Damn you, Kanzaki. Damn you and your tactics!"
Shin punched the grey asphalt after kneeling, causing some of his knuckles to bleed due to the force of his punch.
"Ryoko, I'll get back to Japan to see you soon. This I promise you."
Shin hesitated to continue his self-monlogue for a few minutes before a concrete plan came into his head.
"But what about Satoru Kanzaki when I get the chance to go home?"
He looked at the lone Royal Asranian Army soldier pacing around the outskirts of a nearby hangar, decked with a desert camouflage BDU and a combat helmet. In his hands was a Springfield M-14 battle rifle.
"Yea, that's it. I'll kill him with my own hands when I get the chance to go home soon."