Dogfight

You're the world famous world war one flying ace, flying low over the trenches of Ypres in your trusty Sopwith Camel.

It was a dark and stormy night, but is now a cold and wet dawn patrol. Ugh, you're really regretting all that elderberry wine you drank with your mates last night. At least it counters those unfortunate internal effects of the castor oil fumes off that unreliable engine your little crate is spinning up front.

While you wipe your goggles with your oh-so-fashionable white silk scarf, your bleary eyes spot a dark aircraft at your 2 o'clock high, framed nicely against a cloud.