Three Strikes [✓]

Revelations

"Well, most of them actually did retreat," Fencer told her with a dry chuckle. "But two of them stayed behind and tangled with the enemy so we could retreat. Eventually, a third guy came back to help drive them off."

"Really?" Avril asked, placing her hands on her hips. That was something new. She wondered which dumbass had the idea to stay and cover the retreat. That used to be her dad's job, before he got himself killed. Reason number one why she wasn't able to fly and why she built that stupid plane with her grandfather. Admittedly, she still blamed Harling for the last war. In fact, back when Trigger first arrived, she thought about giving her a thank you note for killing the guy. "Well...thanks for telling me. I'll get to work on your planes, now. I'm sure you probably wanna get back to your own base, eh?"

"No problem." Wiseman turned away from her and climbed into the nearby cart that the guards used to go between the hangars.

Fencer followed him, climbing into the back of the cart, facing her. "Let me tell you one other thing, though," he said. "One of your pilots is pretty tenacious, takin' on the enemy ace alone back there. In fact, all three of the support showed some pretty amazing skill and determination. I, for one, was impressed by it. I'd keep an eye on them if I were you." He laughed, indicating he wasn't serious with what he had said, but Avril actually didn't think it was too bad an idea. Fencer's laughter slowly trailed off. "Anyways. You should take a look at their planes. No way they didn't take some damage out there. They could use the tune up."

"Right..." Avril said slowly. "Whatever you say. Thanks again." Fencer nodded in response, then the guard assigned to play as their escort drove them away. She watched them leave, then looked over towards the other planes where she saw Trigger playing fetch with their AWACS controller's guard dog. Not too far away, Count, the self-proclaimed leader of their squadron of misfits and lowlifes, was smoking a cigarette and carrying out a conversation with the other old guy from the allied squadron and the only female pilot they had in their squadron. Then nearby, looking over some of the other planes, Avril noticed the anarchist guy, Tabloid. He was always this cheerful guy with a dumb grin on his face, so she never thought much of him. He'd been the last pilot to return to the base...was he the one that took on the enemy by himself?

Tabloid turned around, facing his wingmen, then he must have noticed Avril glaring at him. He turned around and gave her a tired look for a moment before he quickly gave her a friendly grin and tilted his head to one side. Avril didn't return the greeting. If she wanted to know the details about the battle, maybe she could find a way to talk to him. The guards and the base commander usually went pretty easy on her compared to the others. She'd earned that for herself, repairing planes and whatnot. It might have also had to do with the fact she was a civilian. Whatever the reason, she knew that she could put in a request to stay out past their curfew, for 'work related' reasons. Then she could say she needed some help in the hangars and choose this Tabloid guy to give her a hand. She figured he was more of a follower than a leader, so he probably wouldn't tell her much unless he was on his own.

Deciding she'd finish planning later on, she started to limp towards him once he'd turned his attention on the others. He looked her way again when she finally reached him. "Hey," she called out to him. "It's Tabloid, right?" Of course she knew who he was, but she didn't know how else to start a conversation with him.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Scrap Queen," Tabloid said with an even wider grin. Avril resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The title wasn't so bad, now that she thought about it, but the gambler and the thug they used to have in the squadron used it more as a term of mocking than a legitimate nickname. Whatever, she thought. The two of them were dead now, anyways, so it didn't matter to her. Besides, at least the anarchist didn't have some sort of snide tone or condescending comment after. Tabloid looked her over. "Soooo...do you need help with something?"