Three Strikes [✓]

Trepidation

Chapter Eighteen: Trepidation

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444th Air Base, Zapland.
August 5th, 2019.
0904hrs.

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"I don't like this..." Count grumbled as he and Naomi looked around at the transport planes being loaded up. Naomi looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He sighed and nodded to the plane that would be carrying most of the former convicts, Avril and Tabloid included. "They're going off to fight and we're stuck flying as an escort to some dickhead that probably sold Osea out to the Eruseans. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets us killed on the way there." Count groaned and shook his head. "I hate this. I figured I'd feel better once we were pardoned and instead it's nothing but more stress. We're not free, we're still stuck with this asshole. Honestly, I liked prison better without all of this espionage drama going on."

Naomi put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, the only thing she knew to do at the time. Surprisingly, he relaxed a little at her touch, but was still tense. "We just have this one last mission and then it's all over," she said to him, lowering her voice in case someone overheard. She grinned, hoping to offer some comfort. Unfortunately she wasn't very good at it and the truth was that she was just as nervous as Count was. "I'm sure that after today, it'll just be a run of the mill war. No spies, no drama, just blowing shit up. Would you like that better?"

Count opened his mouth to reply, pulling away so that her hand wasn't on his shoulder anymore, but before he could say anything someone else stole away their attention. It was Tabloid, stepping forward with a sad smile on his face. "All of the luggage and equipment is loaded up, so Avril and I have to get going," he explained to them, glancing up at their planes. He then looked back and forth between Naomi and Count. "Believe it or not, I'm actually kind of gonna miss this place. I guess...I'll kind of miss the two of you as well." The three of them stood in silence for a moment before Tabloid grinned and he cleared his throat. "But, instead of acting all sad, let's just be happy that we're finally free. For the most part, anyways. And it's not like we won't see each other again once the war's over, right?"

"Hold on, now, you don't think we're gonna leave you and Avril hanging that long, do you?" Naomi asked with a laugh.

"Yeah," Count agreed. "Besides, stop being so dramatic about it. From the sounds of things, that island'll be as good as ours before long. And, you'll have the Scrap Queen to keep ya company. Can't be too bad." Count winked at this, but Tabloid shot him a dirty look. Naomi looked between the two of them, figuring that she was probably just missing some inside joke. Boys will be boys. God only knew what the two of them talked about together. They did used to share a cell, after all.

After a moment, Tabloid sighed and some of his anxiousness seemed to fade away. "I guess you're both right," he said, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back to the transport. The ramp was still down and Avril was waiting for him, along with a very impatient looking guard. He turned back to face Trigger and Count again. "Well, I guess this is where we go our separate ways. For now, at least. Maybe we'll meet again in different squadrons. It's an awfully small world, after all." He shook both of their hands and started to leave. He took a few steps, then paused and turned back to them. "Take care, you two. Oh, and Count? Don't forget our new motto." Count scowled and rolled his eyes, so Tabloid laughed and practically skipped away like a little child, calling over his shoulder, "And lighten up!"

Naomi looked at Count with a smirk once Tabloid and Avril boarded the transport and were out of sight. "New motto? This wouldn't happen to be that 'stick with Trigger' stuff, would it?" she asked him, giving him a nudge with her elbow.