Romeo James was friends with the Shelby brothers ever since they where little. But then the war came and Romeo was branded a deserter. How will the Shelby's react when he returns to Small Heath? Will they trust him?
(Romeo's P.O.V.) I was constantly patrolling and intercepting either by myself or with one of my 'playmate's' - what we call a fellow aviator on the same mission. The weather had been very, very good during the summer of 1917. But there were days when it was poor. On one particular occasion, me and the young Pilot Officer William Egan, had climbed to cloud level. I was formatting on the starboard side of Egan's, placing our Sopwith Camel's side by side. And we climbed up through the clouds, just the wingtip. And that was how cloud flying was, you just watched the other's wingtips through the mist. And we came out eventually into brilliant sunshine – I've never forgotten it – and as we came out in that very position, down came a Fokker D. VII - Enemy aircraft. With one quick swoop he took out my unexpierenced officer's plane. Shooting little red sparks came out of the plane's machinery, the bullets penetrating through Egan's propellor. Making it plummit down to earth in a cloud of smoke. And so, I went after the Fokker, doing so cleverly, of course. I rolled in after the Fokker, thinking for a moment thinking that it was another aircraft, because it was so unusual to see a single Fokker by itself. Whether he'd been hit or not, I don't know. The Fokker wasn't showing any smoke, he was travelling fairly fast just diving towards the English Channel, now realising he needed to get out of here. I got onto his tail, fired a long burst. He slowed up and then he rolled very violently up to the right. As he came out of his roll I was back on his tail close in for another burst, when I could see that his undercarriage was coming down. He was also streaming grey smoke, might have been coolant. We were down to about 1200 feet then over the fields of Ypres as I chased him down. He started to side slip fairly violently. He did another roll this time with his wheels down and then did a diving, dirt turn down towards the ground. I held off as he went round a field, lost speed, side slipped quite sharply. He was obviously a very capable pilot. I was weaving like a mad-man to catch up to the faster plane. "Fuck" I sneered slamming the side of my plane with my fist as I lost the bastard. Now I had ti pay attnetion, cause the hunter now became the hunted. I began looking right, left, centre, up, down, mostly back. The clouds became dangerously dark, which was going to obscure my sight. Then suddenly, I saw his wing glide through the clouds, as a flash of lightning lit up the sky. Before I could make a plan of attack, the German laid in behind me and began firing at me with a long burst. To my horror a hole appeared in the side of my plane and it began to shake and rattle. My heart began to race as I began having difficulty with keeping the aircraft together. The yoke violently shook in my hands. Another burst of fire went through my aircraft. And suddenly I was covered in smoke. My mind screamed that I was dead. But there was no blood, no nothing, beside being covered in smoke. Am I on fire?! The dark clouds dissapeared and the country side of France came into view. I was going down-hill. I looked over and realized the smoke was coming from the top of the engine, through the engine cowling. Which is where the glycol pipe is, the coolant pipe. It was a really browny colour, it wasn't black smoke and I could smell it too, it was glycol. When suddenly I, out of the corner of my eye, saw a flash over my left wrist and the next moment the cockpit filled up with flames. Raging fastly towards me, the heat was enormous and I screamed out ---
--- I immediatly sat upright in my bed. My scream echoed through my bedroom as I woken up. Every time I sleep, I get trapped in this never ending nightmare. Planes being shot and the howling sound as it went down. Cockpits bursting into fire. Propellors being shot to pieces. The moment I wake up, I'm drenched in sweat and deal with the after math of this fear. I sigh and trail my hand through my hair. I had to take a walk. So I grabbed my jacket and went out. Into the empty street that began to become bussier with the passing hour. I dug my hand into my pocket to shield them from the cold air. I walk acrose the streets of Small Heath, tossing the end of a cigarette bud away. When suddenly I was grabbed by what looked like some police officers. "What the fuck?!" I scream loudly as I begin to resist their hold, "who the fuck are you?!" I demanded. But it fell on deaf ears as I was dragged away.
In a dark room, I was basically getting beaten to a bloody pulp. Before I got dragged to a chair and being thrown on it. I grown in pain and spit out some blood. I wheezed in pain as I was sure I had some broken ribs. My eyes lifted up when I heard a door open. It was a copper, Inspector Campbell to be exact. "Romeo James" the man spoke closing the door while looking down at a file. Flicking through the pages. "Nice plane" Campbell said looking up at me. I raised an eyebrow in confusion, not understanding what he exactly meant. The inspector turned a photo around and showed it to me. One of my war time photos that was taken.
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I lifted my eyes up to meet the man's eyes. "That aircraft is a bomber" I said matter of factly. Basically telling him he should learn the difference. He chuckled and approached me. "Look at me" he stated as he stops right infront of me. Reaching down he lifts my chin up, so I can look him straight in the eyes. His fingers becoming stained with my blood. I glare at him in return, studying jis features. Then his hand leaves from below my chin and up my head, to stroke a hand over my head. Before hitting me right in my face. My head snaps to the side and I cough instantly as I felt my nose break. I groan loudly, trying to subdue the pain. "Fuckin' bastard" I groan as I hunch over. Campbell ignores my insult and leans against the wall, hands folding nestly in front of him. "Now Mr James, I want you to see this as me introducing myself to you. Understand?" He began, "and in all the world there is only one thing that interests me. Is the truth". I notice he is clutching his hands tightly, making his veins pop. Instantly I knew he was almost bursting to hurt me even further. "what do you know about the robbery?". "Well, your boys did a number on me, so why don't you wait for my concussion to suffice and ask me on a later date" I replied sarcastically. Campbell's lips tighten dangerously before he grabs my arm and twists it in a painfull manner, nearly breaking it. He leaned to my ear "i will ask you again. What do you know about the robbery". "I know that some motorparts have been stolen from the automobile factory. Is that the one you mean?". With ease he pulls my hand back and breaks my finger. I suppress a scream from escaping my lungs but the sound of my pain still was clear in the air. Campbell grabs my collar and holds me in a tight grip. "After 35 years, dealing with animals like you, I can tell by just sniffing the air wether or not you're lying". He studies me for a second "but then again. Lying was your occupatient during the war and by your file it's clear that you've mastered it quite well". Campbell nodded his head. "so I know that everything you say is not to be trusted. But then again, no one else will trust you either. You're destined to be a lonewolf". Campbell roughly let's go of my waist coat and stands back to announce to the others "I see nothing of interest here". Campbell even threw the photo of me and the Bomber onto my lap before leaving.
