[ WP ] Two brothers join the Air Force as fighter pilots , but when the conflict in Ukraine ends up with the US joining the fray , one of them becomes a Russian Citizen and joins the Russian Air Force , and they meet in the skies .

Different backstory, but same concept. 
 
 `` Are you serious? You're going to *Russia* to join the Air Force? What's wrong with this one?'' 
 
 `` The country behind it. I never liked this place. Russia's a much better choice. And after that rebellion in Moscow that restored the Soviet Union -- why would n't I?'' 
 
 `` You're insane! Do n't you remember what our parents and grandparents told us about the first Soviet Union?'' 
 
 `` Yeah, I do. The second one sounds even better. A communist utopia where all is well, no one's ahead of or behind anyone else.'' 
 
 Jack folded his arms. `` Yeah? What about their crumbling infrastructure? Mortality rate? Poverty? Rebellions in the Caucasus, and in Moscow itself? Not being able to look at a government official's picture wrong without being dragged off by the Secret Police?'' 
 
 `` Being fixed as we speak. I want out of this country, and into that one, as quickly as possible.'' 
 
 `` Fine, then go. Leave! I do n't care anymore!'' 
 
 `` *Do svedanya*.'' 
 
 Jack watched his brother walk through the airport terminal until he vanished behind a crowd of Hawaiian-shirted tourists. 
 
 *Bye, Carter, * Jack thought. *You wo n't be missed. * 
 
 ~~ ~~ 
 
 *10 years later, above Occupied New York City* 
 
 `` We've cleared a path for ground forces. Go ahead, move in!'' 
 
 Jack pulled back on the control stick, pulling up sharply to avoid smashing his F-22 into the ground. He hated strafing runs. 
 
 The American forces had finally pushed back to New York City. It would n't be long before the rest of the East Coast was free, and then the US could take the war to those who had started it. 
 
 A pair of heavy bombers appeared in Jack's line of sight. He released a missile at one, switched weapons, and unleashed a burst of gunfire at the other. The two bombers tumbled out of the sky, trailing fire and smoke behind them. 
 
 `` Hey, uh, Jack? I mean, Captain? There's a squadron of enemy fighters inbound. Looks like there's at least 20 of them. They're coming from the southeast, about two miles east of Liberty Island,'' a recently-graduated pilot said. 
 
 `` Great, because we did n't have enough if a problem with the enemy ground forces! All fighters with remaining anti-air weaponry, knock out those planes,'' Jack ordered. 
 
 Jack turned to engage the fighters, g-forces crushing him back in his seat. He unleashed all four of his remaining AIM-120 AMRAAMs, taking down every plane he targeted. The attacking force broke formation and fired their own long-range missiles, destroying seven F-16s unfortunate enough to be right between Jack's squadron and themselves. 
 
 Jack picked out one plane, slipped behind it, and fired an AIM-9 heat-seeking missile. The infrared warhead guided directly to the enemy aircraft -- an Su-35 -- and blew it to pieces. 
 
 He picked another target, the lead plane in the formation. He obtained missile lock and fired. The enemy Su-35 snapped to the left and deployed flares, causing the missile to streak away. 
 
 Jack switched to his gun. He fired a burst into the enemy aircraft, ripping it apart. 
 
 As the plane fell, Jack caught sight of the tail fins. Etched onto them was an American flag, being smashed by a hammer and torn by a sickle. He had seen that symbol only once before, on his brother's computer at home in a Photoshop drawing. That could only mean one thing. He had just killed Carter. 
 
 `` Hey, is that?...'' 
 
 `` Yeah, it is. The defector that tore apart our Air Force at Los Angeles five years ago. Great shot, captain!'' 
 
 Jack did n't acknowledge the congratulation, though. He neither mourned not rejoiced. All he said was, `` come on, let's end this war.'' 
 
 

