For a mutt with no thumbs, that rotten bastard sure could fly.

Through the storm of winds and propellers we flew, alone in the carnage of blood and bullets. I rarely ended up the mouse chased by a cat, but this was no cat on my tail. Rumors and reports had never prepared me for this.

I pulled up, zooming through the thick of the airborne maelstrom. I fired on a biplane in my path and brought it down, hoping the chaos would confuse the hound. Or that a passerby would shoot the doghouse sailing through the skies. No such luck, as the .77 millimeters rounds stuck to me like glue. It was everything I could do to dart away from certain doom.

A trick of the light caught my eye. A shadow, almost too small to distinguish from the dark grey clouds. It headed right for me. Too small and slow to be a plane, yet too mobile to be a stray bullet, I ignored it. Until it smacked me right in the face.

As I smacked the strange yellow bird away, I heard the undeniable sound of engine failure. I looked forward and saw the smoke billowing from the front of my Albatross. How the damage didn't rip through me first, I didn't know. As I descend toward the ground, I knew only one thing.

It was a fool's mission, challenging a dog to a dogfight.