The plane drops.
And before the wreckage cools
The Story is already written.
Hero.
Brave son.
Defender of something
that was never in danger.
Not a man in a cockpit
running calculations
his training installed.
Not adrenaline
doing what adrenaline does
when altitude disappears.
The cortisol spiked before the missile did.
The amygdala fired
before the ejection seat.
But nobody tracks the chemistry.
They track The Role.
Pilot.
Warrior.
Emblem of something
that needs him to stay symbolic.
The rescue is not about who fell.
It is about what he was wearing
when he fell.
The flight suit.
The rank.
The flag stitched to the shoulder.
Strip all of it.
Remove the call sign.
Erase the mission briefing.
What is left
is not a hero.
Not a soldier.
Not an emblem.
What is left
is an animal
breathing in sand
who did not choose
to drop from the sky.
Identity does not need a war
to recruit.
But war is where it stops pretending
to be optional.
-- [MIRRØR]