SUPERNOVA | ❝Don't think, just do.❞
When TOPGUN calls, the pilots flock, with no clue of the trials they are about to face. It brings old friends together, everyone from former TOPGUN classmates to childhood friends - they come and go into each...
┌───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────┐ THREE rookie mistakes └───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────┘
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"ATTENTION on deck!"
At the command, all of the aviators stand upright in the air hangar-turned-classroom as a jet soars past the tall windows. A sea of tables have been set out in front of a podium, belittled by the colossal American flag hung behind it. Two men in light brown uniform walk in; one of them, Vice Admiral Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson, has a jaw set in stone and a pair of frosty eyes that are unforgiving. The other less intimidating one, Admiral Solomon 'Warlock' Bates, inspects the sea of pilots in front of him with an amused calmness. 'Hondo', the CW04, is also on standby.
Today, the training starts — but first and foremost comes the mystery of the mission, and discovering whoever their instructor will be. Celeste has to admit, Phoenix's question from yesterday still stays with her: Who the hell are they going to get to teach us?
"Good morning," says Warlock, stepping to the podium, "and welcome to your special detachment. You may be seated."
The clatter of chairs is slim as the group descend into their seats. Celeste steals a glance at all the familiar faces around her — Quincy is sat next to her, as always, both of their spots filled with manuals and paperwork. At the very back is Luisa, sat with Tintin, and Ryan remains ice cold next to Hangman on the very front row. And then there's Bradley... much more subdued than his relaxed demeanour last night, it's like he is a whole different person once he steps onto a naval base. She recognises that instantly. A switch is flicked, his face suddenly heavy with responsibility and wariness.
Celeste twists and fiddles with the lid of her pen, finding something to do as she focuses on the admiral speaking. "You're all TOPGUN graduates. The elite. The best of the best..." Warlock says, watching the faces of the pilots nod softly and even smile in agreement. Hangman is the biggest culprit, his smirk warped with arrogance. "That was yesterday," the admiral then adds, crushing the hopes of the pilots.
Inhaling through her nose, a frown of deep concentration becomes fixed on Celeste's face. At the front, Fanboy's smile fades, and is replaced with a lost expression of confusion.
"The enemy's new fifth generation fighter has levelled the playing field," Warlock explains gravely. "Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box..."
At this, Hangman looks back pointedly at Phoenix and Celeste sitting on the other side of the room; when they notice him, Celeste just rolls her eyes, while Phoenix subtly flips him the bird.
