The control room was always so dark. Poppy would never understand why it was always dark. Whenever she enters this room, she usually trips on the wiring. Carefully, she goes to her side of the room and looks toward her technician, Peaches.
"Status?"
"Units, Delta, Charlie, and Zulu are stable and ready for take-off." Peaches replies, looking at her before turning back to the computer.
Satisfied with the answer, Poppy turns to Cyclone, nodding.
"Whenever you are ready, sir."
"Let's start the exercise." The admiral announces and nods towards Poppy giving her control.
"Mission control, Clear for take-off?" Her dad asks as his voice echoes in the room.
"You are clear for take-off."
She watches the three jets take off on the screen and fly to the designated training grounds. Feeling eyes on her, she waits for data to stabilize before nodding.
"Let's begin."
With that, everyone jumps into action, checking the input from the 3 jets. An officer opens the communication box, and the voices of her dad, Fanboy, Payback, and Rooster echo into the room. She takes a seat next to her Data Process Engineer, Grease.
"Greeting Aviators, this is your captain speaking. Welcome to basic fighter maneuvers. As briefed, today's exercise is dogfighting. Guns only, no missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of 5,000 ft. Working as a team, you have to shoot me down or else." Her dad briefly explains the rules over the telecom.
"Or else what, sir?" Payback asks, curious she shares a brief look with Grease, who gives her a shrug.
"Or else I shoot back. If I shoot either one of you down, you both lose."
"Sir, what's say we put some skin into the game."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Whoever gets shot down first has to do 200 push-ups."
Chuckling at the bet the aviator places on behalf of the entire squad. Feeling sorry for them already as their asses will get handed to them.
"Guys, that's a lot of push-ups."
"Oh well, they don't call it an exercise for nothing, sir." Fanboy's voice chimes in, backing up his partner's bet.
"Pretty sure it's about nothing to you guys."
"Okay, Sir, how about who gets to shoot you down gets a date with your daughter."
Poppy scoffs in disbelief at the lieutenant's words. She could feel some eyes on her. She rolls her chair towards the communications officer and nudges them to the side; she presses on the telecom entering the conversation.
"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself, boys?"
"Aww, Engineer Mitchell, it's wonderful to hear your voice."
She rolls her eyes at the lame flirting of Fanboy.
"Take em out, Dad."
"Copy that."
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Glad that her dad is one hell of a pilot. She wishes she could eat popcorn as she enjoys watching him beat the entire squad. Not worried and satisfied with the outcome, she taps Grease's shoulder before telling him she's going to the bathroom. He nods in response before turning back to the screen. Once exiting the room, she bumps into Payback and Fanboy, dragging their bodies towards the briefing room. Laughing at the sight of them, she crosses her arms.
"Learned your lesson, haven't you?" She greets them.
"I take it back. Is it possible to take it back?" Fanboy breathes out as he leans against the wall for support, obviously tired from his push-ups.
"You reap what you sow, aviator." She said, chuckling not before patting a little harshly on his arms out of spite for putting her in the bet.
He let out a pained groan as Payback gave an airy laugh. She walks away from both of them but not before hearing.
"A daydream dressed up as a nightmare, I tell you." A tired voice mutters, presuming it Fanboy's, before dragging feet could be heard in the hall.
"Kinda deserved it, man."
"Shut up."
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Returning from the bathroom, she enters the control room to see it in utter chaos. The Admirals were barking orders, and officers were talking, all together. Feeling overwhelmed, she turns to Admiral Cyclone.
"Get your father and Rooster under control now." He shouts at her, vividly angry at what he's watching.
Confused, she turns to the screen, and her eyes widen. The altitude of Rooster's and her dad's plane is decreasing dramatically, and complete panic washes over her body. She runs over to the telecom, fumbling over the bottom before screaming.
"Pull up right now!"
"Shit." She hears someone mutter, unsure if it is her dad or Rooster. She looks up towards the screen and sees the altitude has now stabilized. Sighing in relief that they are now at a safer altitude. She glances back to the screen to see the altitude of about 800ft. Huffing through her nose, she grits her teeth, furious as she realizes those two have a death wish. No matter how much she's avoiding Bradley now or the fact the two men can't stand each other right now. It shouldn't cost their life, especially when she's still around.
"Get them to land now and send Maverick to my office." She hears Cyclone shout before storming out of the room.
"Do it," Poppy mutters towards the officer beside her before going to her side of the room and grabbing a clipboard.
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She was beside Hondo when both boys got out of the jet. Once their feet touched the runway, two loud smacks echoed.
"What the fuck, Poppy!" Rooster shouts in pain as he goes to rub the sore spot forming on the back of his head.
"Shut up. You don't get to speak." He was about to respond until she shot him a glare, making him turn away quickly.
"Poppy..."
Quickly turning her head to her father, he backs up a bit as he sees the visible anger on her face. Swallowing deeply, he approaches his daughter carefully, his aim grabbing the clipboard out of her hands.
"How much of an idiot are both of you? I lend you these jets to test it, not blow it up." She rages, pointing a finger at him.
"We didn't blow it up." Rooster mutters behind her.
'SMACK'
"Ah, fuck."
"Both of you could have died!"
"But we didn't - I'll shut up."
"I know what happened between the two of you is making you guys be at each other throats. But for the love of God, try not to get killed. "
"Poppy, look, we're sorry." Her dad mutters, bringing up his hands trying to calm his daughter from a safe distance from the clipboard.
"Are you? Are you sorry? Because, hell, that performance I just saw told me you guys don't give a crap until someone reminds you to get your head out of your ass. Get out if you two can't put aside your dick measuring contest for this mission."
Both pilots look away from the woman, ashamed of what they had done.
"If you two don't care about what happens when you die. If you think no one is waiting for you to come home, what the fuck am I here for? I'm the one who's waiting for you to come home. I'm the one who gets to bury you. I'm the one who gets left alone. So, if you're fine with that, then by all means. Go ahead! Kill yourselves for all I care. But know this, I will always wait for you to come back."
"Oh, sweetheart."
"Poppy..."
Both men approach her, but she puts her hand up, stopping them from their advance. Not realizing Rooster was fishing out a handkerchief from his pocket, he carefully gave it to her. She looked at it, confused, until her dad pointed to her face. Touching her cheeks, she realizes it was wet. She was crying, dumbfounded by the fact. She grabs the handkerchief before clearing her throat.
"From this point onwards, none of you will be using the F-19s. Strip your gear and go to your positions. I do not want to see you near a jet for the rest of the day. The admirals are calling for you, Captain." She mutters at the both of them, refusing to look them in the eyes, before grabbing the keys from their hands and wiping the tears from her cheeks.
"Put those jets in Hangar 8. I need to see the damages." She shouts towards the ramp agents before turning her back at the pair, leaving Hondo with them.
Looking like sad and guilty puppies, Hondo snorts at the troubled duo.
"You're in deep shit now."
Note:
Yes, I named the co-workers after food and things😅