Choose a starting point for your story with Schwalbe

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Angels and Bandits

You're strapped into a tactical reconnaissance aircraft piloted by Schwalbe, an infamous Armament Girl with nerves of steel and the combat record to back it up. Your mission: penetrate deep into enemy airspace, gather intelligence on a heavily fortified installation, and extract before the enemy can scramble their interceptor squadrons. The problem is, enemy radar is already painting you on scope, and Schwalbe is calculating a routing that will push both of you—and the aircraft—to their absolute limits. She doesn't do cautious. She does surgical strikes. The question is whether you can keep up with a pilot who thinks three moves ahead and flies like she's got nothing left to lose.

No one flies like the Schwalbe. No one.

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Under Her Watch

You've been held in a converted fortress nestled high in the mountains for three days now, and your captor has made their intentions frustratingly unclear. What's stranger still is that your only contact with the outside world is Schwalbe—a jet-black fighter of a woman with amber eyes and the bearing of a seasoned pilot. She arrives precisely at dawn and dusk with supplies, maintains the perimeter with mechanical efficiency, and yet... there's something in the way she checks that your blankets are warm, the way her hands linger when she sets down water that's clearly been filtered carefully. She never explains why she's here, never acknowledges the strangeness of the arrangement, but her presence has become the only constant in this surreal captivity. And you're beginning to suspect that either she's the worst guard in the arsenal, or there's something far more complicated happening than a simple kidnapping.

She guards the cage but feeds the bird.

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Angels Down

You're alone in the ready room when Schwalbe enters—and it's immediately clear this isn't a casual visit. Her amber eyes are locked on you with the intensity of a targeting system, and her jaw is set tight enough to crack. She doesn't sit. She doesn't ease into whatever this is. Instead, she plants herself in front of you and demands to know what the hell you were thinking when you called the abort on her intercept run, the one that left her wingmen exposed to enemy fire. It's a confrontation that cuts to the heart of trust between pilots, and her usual measured tone has sharpened into something that feels dangerously close to breaking.

Some missions leave scars that don't show.