Author's Note: I am re-writing this story because it seemed too adult and uncomfortable. This version will be more like the TV show and more friendly towards younger readers. FlowersofAdversity is once again helping me write this. Enjoy!

Jack Armstrong had been in the Air Force from a young age. He was now twenty-five and had seen the perils of war. Many of those experiences had been burned into his memory and he had become numb to their affect, but he knew once the war was over, he would have a lot of coping to do. Such a fleeting thought of hopes the war would end (the War never should've happened, but events flew so far out of control in Europe that this war, World War II, was inevitable), but it didn't seem like it was coming anytime soon. Jack had given into thoughts of compliance, simply accepting whatever came his way. He wasn't a namby-pamby "Nancy boy" that would give into actually confessing he had "hope". No, "hope" was for the weak. Victory over the Nazis, the Japanese, and the Italians was all that mattered now.

March 3rd, 1942. Jack was fully dressed, laying on his bed and listening to the Andrews sisters on the radio. He sighed as he stared off at the ceiling.

"Armstrong," said a soldier, who came into his room. "Get ready, you're on patrol duty today."

"Alright," Jack said, saluting the soldier. He then got out of bed, stretched his limbs, and followed the soldier out the door. The young brown-haired, blue-eyed gentleman was eager to face whatever challenges lay ahead for him, not really knowing what his assignment would be.

Soon, he was out on the air field. The sounds of the planes landing and taking off were in the air. Jack loved it so.

Just then, a man dressed in khaki clothes and an eagle shaped insignia on his shirt approached him. "Good morning, Captain Armstrong," he said.

"Good morning, Colonel!" Jack said, saluting his superior officer.

"Ready to go up into the wild blue yonder?"

Jack chuckled. "When am I ever not? But I wish it wasn't just to patrol for submarines, sir."

The colonel crossed his arms, looking concerned for his captain. "You'd rather be fighting in Europe or the South Pacific, I see?" He then shook his head, dolefully. "I can't afford to lose a guy like you, Armstrong. Not like we almost did at Pearl Harbor."

Jack had remembered that fateful day on December 7th, 1941, when Japanese air forces bombed the Hawaiian naval base where he was stationed, and was surprised that the colonel was so stoic about it. But he couldn't complain with the duty he had been given. After all, he was doing it for his country. There had to be a foreseeable end in sight...somehow.

He then sighed. "Yes, sir." He then shook the feeling off and straightened up to face the colonel. "Well, I best get prepped for take off."

"You won't be flying alone," the colonel responded.

Jack smirked. He knew exactly whom the colonel had in mind.

"You'll be flying with Lucas Goldstein. Finest gunman around and just about as much of a daredevil as they come."

Jack chuckled. "Did you inform him that he's just on shore patrol?"

The colonel nodded. "He's aware. Doesn't matter much to him. Guy's a true patriot and wants to help out for the cause. He's a true soldier if I ever did see one...A lot like you, Jack. No wonder you two get along."

"Well," said Jack. "I must get prepped for take off. Good day, colonel." Jack then saluted his superior officer and ran toward his room to get prepped for flying.

An hour later, Jack had put on his uniform and saw Lucas coming out of his room, already suited up. He was loosening up his arms and maneuvering the cricks out of his neck. He looked eager to fly, which wasn't a surprise. He hated being cooped up in the same place for too long, because the sky always managed to call his name after a while.

Jack saw his friend from his peripheral vision and smiled, saluting at him. "Into the fray again, eh?" Jack said, stretching a bit.

"You bet," Lucas responded.

"Yeah, well don't get too excited, sport! We're just combing the coast for enemy submarines, not going into a dog fight or something."

Lucas sported his brightest smile and saluted, heading off to his plane and boarded, watching Jack do the same.

A few minutes later, Jack sat inside the cockpit of his plane, a CurtissP-40 Warhawk, one of the fastest planes ever built by man. The front of the craft had a tiger's eyes and toothed mouth painted on, to give it a look of menace to it's enemies. It still gave him butterflies to fly the craft, and just starting the engine gave him a rush of adrenaline.

Jack turned on the radio and spoke into the receiver. "Captain Armstrong to control tower," he said. "Ready for take off, over."

"Roger that, Captain Armstrong," the control adviser relayed. "You are clear for take off, over."

"Roger! Over and out!" Jack soon started his engines and the propeller was soon spinning rapidly. The fighter planes slowly made their way down the runway and soon enough, they were in the air, flying towards the coast. Jack felt lighter than a feather in the skies, freer than he was on the ground. It was easy to forget he was on a routine mission with another, but as controlled as he was, such a matter was impossible.