Chapter Fifteen: Destructive Tendencies
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444th Air Base, Zapland.
July 20th, 2019.
1500hrs.
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Naomi frowned as the familiar roaring of jet engines faded into the distance and she lost sight of the four F-15s. Cyclops Squadron was gone, and so were the only allies she had left around the base. Pulling her gaze away from the sky, she noticed a pair of her fellow inmates smoking with one of the guards. They saw her and muttered something to one another before sending a glare her way and returning to whatever it was they were talking about before. Naomi put on a blank expression and took a deep breath, shoving her hands into her pockets and turning to enter the hangar that now housed Spare Squadron aircraft once again. There was no trace that the LRSSG pilots had ever been there.
Count's Flanker was parked next to Naomi's F-2, and Tabloid's Mirage was tucked away in the very back, barely visible unless someone were to turn on the lights in the dingy hangar. Full Band's F/A-18 was parked in a similar manner on the opposite side of the hangar. And just as she expected, on each of their tails, the reminder of their crimes was still there. It was practically mocking them every day. Naomi stared distastefully at her own plane, lingering on the three sin lines across her personal emblem and the Osean flag. Count, Tabloid, and Full Band were lucky. They each had only one sin line for minor crimes that they wouldn't tell her about, likely because none of them cared enough to. She could probably guess what they were, though, just from the little she knew about them.
She continued to stare up at her plane before the sound of uneven footsteps alerted her to the arrival of another person. Naomi turned her head towards the open hangar doors and saw the familiar form of her cellmate, limping and carrying a toolkit in her hands. The slightly older woman set the box down as she stopped, shifting her weight off of her bad leg and placing her hands on her hips. It seemed that she didn't notice Naomi standing there, so she tried to slip away unnoticed, but Avril's dark brown eyes flicked towards her the second she tried to move out of sight. "I know you're there, dumbass," Avril said flatly, a hint of her usual smirk on her lips. "If you were trying to be sneaky, then congratulations, you already failed."
"Hilarious." Naomi ducked underneath her wing and slowly walked towards Avril, eyeing the plastic box on the ground next to her before looking back up. "I kind of wanted to be alone right now."
Avril raised an eyebrow, the only sign of any concern that Naomi got from her. After a moment, her expression softened to one of what could be considered pity. "Tabloid told me what happened," she said after a while. "About...well, everything, actually. That, and Count's pretty good at stirring shit up, so word spread around base fast. As you can tell."
Naomi flinched and looked down at the ground. Tabloid had been distant ever since the confrontation with Count and the others. At first, Naomi thought that he'd hang around, but instead he began to join Avril in the hangars and actively avoid Naomi. Bandog began to shun her, and Count went back to hating her guts. Full Band was the only one that seemed interested in remaining on good terms with her, probably because he was convinced that she was like her father. Convinced that she was something that she never wanted to be.
A part of her blamed herself, although she knew that it wasn't really anybody's fault. And yet at the same time, she still was upset with her family for lying to her. Roland and Samantha knew. Her mother — quite obviously — knew. And her father...of course. Naomi hated herself for not noticing it sooner. He was Belkan, that much she knew, but she never thought much of it. Her entire life, she'd grown up in Osea. And now everyone but Full Band seemed to think that she was some sort of monster with no good reason behind it. Had the world really become so hostile and fearful towards Belkans? Is that why her father hadn't told her that, not only was he Belkan and a mercenary, but he became a terrorist following a flawed ideology? Naomi didn't know the reasons behind her family's decision to hide that part of their lives from her, but she found it hard to stay mad at them. As much as she wanted to be mad at them, to hate them, instead she just hated the circumstances under which she'd come to learn of this.
Warily, she looked towards Avril, only lifting her head slightly to get a clear look of her expression. Naomi furrowed her brow, scanning Avril's face and eyes for any sign of hatred or fear. There wasn't anything there. Well, no more than usual. Naomi straightened up, crossing her arms. "So...if you know about my 'interesting' heritage, then why are you here?" she asked, tilting her head to one side curiously. Avril blinked, taken aback by the question. It was the first time Naomi saw her look even mildly startled by anything. She didn't answer the question, and Naomi clenched her jaw. In hindsight, maybe that wasn't the best way to ask her. If she wanted to be alone, that was a good way to drive someone off. Quickly, she added, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way...er...kinda. But, why are you here? I thought McKinsey gave you the day off for fixing up the Cyclops planes."
"He did." Avril said simply. She nodded towards Naomi's plane, her smirk returning and her eyes glinting in a mischievous sort of way. "But that doesn't mean I have to take it."
"I'm a little confused," Naomi admitted. A day off at the penal base was a blessing and all of them jumped at any opportunity they got for rest, so the fact that Avril turned down a day that McKinsey willingly gave her off was perplexing. "You turned down a day to just lay in bed and do nothing to come outside to fix up a bunch of lowlifes' planes?"
Avril forced a chuckle. "I mean, not much of a bed, really," she replied. "And I spend enough time in that cell as it is. I needed to stretch my legs and it's not like any of you keep your planes in good condition. Work's never done around here." With a soft grunt, she began to limp towards one side of the plane before coming back around again and stopping next to Naomi. "You smell that burnt smell?" Naomi took a deep breath and then nodded, screwing up her nose. It smelled like someone was trying to cook rubber and tar. It kind of burned and it surprised Naomi that she hadn't noticed it before. Avril grinned and clapped Naomi on her shoulder. "Well, that is why I'm here."
Naomi stared at her. "Uh, what?"
"Well, that burnt smell says something about your flying style," Avril explained with a surprising amount of patience as she began to look around the rear of the aircraft. Naomi wasn't used to Avril being so civil towards her. Avril continued, and Naomi listened to her intently. "You see, that smell comes from an engine being pushed to its limit. Now, I saw your flying earlier today and it mostly speaks for itself." The mechanic turned and crossed her arms, pausing to give her leg a break. "You're a hotdog."
"Excuse me?" Naomi let out a snort at the word Avril chose to use. She knew what it meant, at least with the context she had, but couldn't help but find the mental image that it provoked somewhat amusing. Naomi grinned, chuckling slightly. "I mean, I know what you mean, but 'hotdog'? Really? Couldn't you have used a better word?"
"No," Avril said, looking a little confused by Naomi's reaction. It was as if someone was told that they were a hotdog every day, even if they weren't talking about food. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking back at Naomi's plane. "As I was saying...you've already trashed one plane, and I don't want my hard work going to more waste than it already is. You keep up your ridiculous flying and I'm gonna have to keep a closer eye on you, dumbass." She looked at Naomi out of the corner of her eye before once again giving the plane her full attention. "Anyways. You need all the help you can get in the air, so I've decided to give your plane some of my magic touch."
Naomi nodded, not entirely sure what she should think. It seemed the oh-so-mighty Scrap Queen was coming down from her throne to mingle with the commoners. It was a bit of a harsh comparison, but Avril was extremely standoffish and Naomi wanted to know why — especially with Naomi's family history out in the open — Avril was suddenly so interested in helping her. She could understand Avril giving Tabloid a hand, since they'd formed some sort of a friendship (if you could call it that), but Naomi was another story. Although she was grateful, she was also suspicious of Avril's motives. "You know, it's not that I don't appreciate the offer," Naomi said slowly. "I really do appreciate it, but why do you want to help me?"
Avril didn't bother even looking her way as she crouched down beside her toolbox and opened it up, revealing an assortment of different equipment, only a few of which Naomi recognized and knew how to use. "First off, I wasn't offering anything," Avril replied as she pulled out a wrench and set it on the ground beside her. "Believe it or not, I actually talk to more people around here than the anarchist and McKinsey. I had a chat with that Full Band guy and I kind of agree with him. In a weird way, at least. The moron has a good point." She finally looked back at Naomi, wearing a look that was hard to decipher. "If we keep getting attention from above thanks to you, then the top brass might actually start to give a shit about us. And if you crash your plane into the ground, well...you can imagine what happens to the rest of us. And with the way you fly, you need all the help you can get."
"Well..." Naomi bit her lip and looked over her plane. It wasn't too damaged from their last sortie, but you could easily make out where she'd taken a hit from one of Mr. X's missiles, as well as where a bolt of lightning had hit her plane. It wouldn't interfere with much, but it wasn't a good idea to leave it unfixed either. She wanted to monitor Avril, to make sure that she wasn't being played and that her plane wasn't going to blow up the second she got in the air with it. Looking back at Avril, she studied her for a moment, searching for any cues that might give away a lie. But there wasn't anything. Aside from the mostly indifferent expression and lazy body posture, she seemed like a normal person. Nothing to hide. "Alright, then. If you want to, then go right ahead. However, I want to give you a hand."
"Fine by me," Avril replied, tossing a tattered pair of gloves Naomi's way, followed by a slightly rusted wrench. Naomi caught both with ease and Avril gave her a look that said 'not bad'. Grunting in pain, she brought herself back to her feet. "But until we're done, you're gonna have to follow my lead. So how about this: If I trust you, then you trust me. I need to know you're not gonna screw anything up. Deal?" She held out her hand and raised an eyebrow. Naomi hesitated, weighing her options, before she finally took a step forward and shook her hand. Avril cracked a small smile. "Great. Let's get to work."
As they started their work, Naomi couldn't get rid of the nagging curiosity she had. Why had Avril suddenly decided to lend her a hand? If Avril knew what everyone else did, then why would she want anything to do with her? They went on in silence for a few minutes before Naomi finally broke the silence. "I've got a question for you, Avril. If you don't mind, that is."
"Okay. Shoot."
Naomi took a deep breath. "If Tabloid told you why Count was pissed with me and the reason why everyone's avoiding me, then why did you come here?" she asked. There was a soft shuffling sound as Avril suddenly stopped what she was doing and adjusted herself, perhaps taken off guard by the question. Naomi paused, waiting for a reply, but none came. She continued, "I mean, you have to be a little uncomfortable, being around a Belkan I mean. Especially...well, considering what my dad attempted to do."
She heard Avril let out a huff of exasperation. "No offense, but do you think I actually give a shit about that?" Avril asked her. Naomi was surprised by the response, as well as the lack of any extra hostility in her voice. There wasn't any more annoyance than there usually was. With a sigh, Avril went back to her work, explaining herself as she did, "I was never invested enough with history to care what the Belkans did, anyways. I heard about it, since every country insisted on fearmongering after the Belkan War. But I don't hate Belkans for stuff that was probably out of their control for the most part. Why should I waste years hating people that I don't even know? Not worth it, I tell you. I've got more important things to focus on and be angry about."
Her tone said that she was half-joking, but Naomi failed to see the humor. She knew that she should be grateful that her cellmate was finally starting to warm up to her, but she still felt uncomfortable with her own heritage. "Okay, I've got another question for you," Naomi said, using a lighter tone in an attempt to make herself and Avril feel a little more at ease. If she didn't sound harsh or accusing or anything similar then maybe Avril might loosen up a bit. "So, I had no clue about my dad's past. They hid it from me. So, if you were in my position, how would you feel? Like, if you find out that your family lied to you your whole life and now you have to just get over it?"
"Oh, I'd be pretty pissed," Avril answered, scoffing. "But we never had secrets in my family, so I can't relate. I'd say it's reasonable to be mad, though. In fact, wrenching away on planes is a great way to relieve anger, let me tell you."
Naomi chuckled. "Well, I can see where you're coming from," she said. It was Avril's term to chuckle. "You know, it's weird. I want to be angry, hell, I am angry...but not at Belkans or my dad, if that makes sense." Avril didn't say anything, going quiet once again. Naomi continued carefully, mostly to herself than to Avril, "It's kind of weird, actually. I want to be mad at my parents, even at my brother and sister, but...I just can't. Maybe it's because I don't know if I'll make it out of this shithole alive, so there's no way of knowing if I'll ever see them again. I don't know..."
"I guess I can understand that to some extent," Avril replied distractedly, not seeming to care much about the emotional weight of anything Naomi just said. In fact, she seemed unaffected by just about everything going on around her. Naomi found it a bit odd that someone who seemed in a constant mood wasn't at all bothered by everyone else being in a mood. Avril did pause for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. "I mean, I can understand feeling guilty for being mad at someone. I used to feel the same way, but hey, it's their own damn fault, right? It's not like you can help how you feel about it." Naomi didn't answer her, finding herself wanting more context. So what happened to you? Naomi couldn't help but think, but she kept it to herself. Avril quickly grew uncomfortable in the silence and cleared her throat, "If you want, then I can help you out if you ever need it. I'm not exactly one for 'friends' or whatever and I'm not too great with moral support, but I guess we have a higher chance of survival if we stick together."
"Pfft. Maybe so," Naomi replied, wiping some sweat from out of her eye as she got back to work. "I might take you up on that offer. We are roomies after all."
Avril stopped working and moved around the aircraft so that she could look Naomi in the eyes. "However, that offer only stands if you can manage to do one thing for me," she said seriously.
"And what's that?" Naomi asked curiously, shifting her weight onto her other leg so she could quickly moved away if she needed to. Getting smacked by a wrench wasn't how she wanted to go out, but even she knew that it was a little paranoid of her.
"Don't trash the damned plane," Avril answered with a smirk, quickly turning and limping back to her work station. "In other words, don't lose another wing, don't crash it into the ground, maybe actually clean it once in a while. You know. Stuff like that."
"Listen, Scrap Queen," Naomi said with a grin that Avril couldn't see. "You've seen the way I fly, haven't you? You and I both know that I can't make any promises."
"Well then at least try your best, dumbass," Avril answered. The last comment was met by laughter from both women as they went about their work and their conversation. Avril was a lot different from what Naomi was expecting, figuring she was as cold on the inside as she was normally. It seemed she had warmed up a little bit. Naomi figured that, maybe, just like Count and Tabloid and Bandog, there was a lot more to the Scrap Queen than met the eye. And Naomi was learning to be fine with that, since everyone around this base seemed to have their secrets.
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Artiglio Port, Erusea.
July 22nd, 2019.
1000hrs.
The morning started off normal enough. The guards came to wake them up and they were sent to a briefing, where McKinsey made it very clear that he was taking advantage of Wiseman and his squadron's absence. After explaining their mission, they were sent off to the hangars to prep for the mission, and from there on out they were en route to Artiglio Port to take out Erusea's fuel supply or something along those lines. Naomi wasn't paying much attention during the briefing, focusing instead on how she would manage an attack of this scale in her tiny little F-2. Avril had equipped the plane with LASMs, since it would mainly be a ground operation, and reassured her that the upgrades would help her out (along with a very stern warning not to trash the plane).
As Spare Squadron approached the port in a mismatched formation of planes as usual, several targets appeared on Naomi's radar. And she had visual on several oil tanks and ships. From the looks of things, they were in a target rich environment and the job they had was simply to blow everything up. Naomi chuckled, thinking of Champ. She didn't like the guy, but he knew how to blow stuff up. That was about the only thing he was good at. Although she felt bad for thinking it, she figured she'd make up for it by thinking out loud and sharing her thoughts with her estranged squadron. "You know, Champ would have loved this mission," she said to them with a soft laugh. "I mean just look out there. He'd have had a blast. Literally."
Full Band scoffed, braking so that he was beside Tabloid in the back of the formation, among the safety of the other planes and not one of the first to head into the battle. This left Naomi and Count to take up the front, leaving the rest of the squadron to cover their wing. Once he was settled in his new position, Full Band sneered, "Yeah, but the second any trouble shows up he'd be outta there. Champ went down crying like a baby. Honestly, I knew he was all bark and no bite. Pfft. The coward..."
"You're one to talk about being a coward after running off with you're tail between your legs like you did!" Tabloid snapped at him suddenly. It surprised Naomi how upset Tabloid sounded. Usually he was the laid back and friendly one of the group, but he must have been set on edge ever since the confrontation in the hangar. Naomi wished she could at least patch things up with him, if not with Count and the others, but it just didn't seem possible. He probably needed more time to cool off.
"I wasn't running away. I was retreating!" Full Band said quickly, not saying much in defense of his abandonment in the heat of battle. It was as if saying that he was retreating was enough of an argument or justification. Or he didn't think he did anything that required justification.
"Well, I can't really say I blame you," Tabloid said in a softer tone. "It was hell out there. Wasn't it, Trigger?" Naomi was surprised that he bothered addressing her, but she didn't get an opportunity to respond as they came closer to the port. Tabloid sighed and spoke again, "Well, here we go. This oughta be fun."
"Man, I am not in the mood for any of this shit today," Full Band spat, throttling forward alongside the rest of the squadron as they all began to select their first targets. "I'm gonna blow stuff up to let off some steam." Now that Full Band mentioned it and now that they had an opportunity to put it into practice, Naomi realized that this was actually a great way to relieve some pent up anger and still do her job. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, but she didn't have any other choice. Just take it out on the oil tanks and AA guns. Simple.
Everyone else in the squadron seemed to instantly cheer up as the radio chatter began. They finally had an operation where they were encouraged to be disorganized. The simplest task in the world: just fire a bunch of missiles at random targets and blow stuff up. Ah well. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em I guess, Naomi thought as she switched to her special weapons. The Erusean oil tanks were all lined up in nice, straight lines. If you took one out and if you were lucky, then a chain reaction would start and the ones next to it would be taken out by the explosion. She tested this out, firing an LASM and switching to a tanker docked nearby. As soon as the row of oil tanks burst into flames, Naomi grinned and took out the docked ship, circling around the port to find the next target.
Count finally said something, having been quiet for the entire morning. "Well, target in sight," he said. With a whistle, he went on, "A lot of oil tanks around here, but the boats aren't warships. A lot of random buildings, too." It almost sounded as if he was questioning the order in some way, or hesitating to engage. Naomi craned her neck to get a visual on the rest of the squadron, but all the smoke from the destroyed oil tanks made it hard to see them. She finally saw Count gun down a SAM site before pulling up to take care of the enemy helicopters buzzing around.
"Destroy everything in sight," Bandog ordered them, having also been quiet up until that point. "Surely that's an easy concept for you lot to grasp?"
"You know, I appreciate the simplicity of the operation, Bandog. Really, I do," Tabloid said as he joined Naomi in circling around the port for the prime targets. "But...they don't look like military."
"And you think you look anything like military?" Bandog asked him. Tabloid didn't answer. "Well, you don't, but that's not going to stop the enemy from attacking you. Continue with the operation and blow it all to pieces."
It seemed as if their AWACS was enjoying the show as the convicts went about their work. Spare Squadron's cheers and whoops over the radio told Naomi that the convicts were also enjoying their task. Naomi did find that it helped her some, but it wasn't long before she got a little bored by it, just letting missiles fly and hit their targets. The only thing making it difficult were the Erusean fighters that responded to the attack. No one else seemed at all bothered by the enemy getting in their way or by the easy targets, though, as one of them shouted, "Haha! Another one's popped! The show's truly started now! Take this!"
"Damn! Now that's what I call fireworks! Haha!" Full Band cheered as he and Naomi both fired at two oil tanks that were side by side, pulling off in different directions as the rest of them ignited and followed suit. The massive explosion took out a nearby AA gun, taking care of another threat to the mission. She could practically imagine the grin on his face as he said, "Burn, bitches!"
One of their wingmen suddenly sneered at them, "Are you guys all nuts? And here I thought at least one of you was sane!"
Naomi narrowly avoided being struck by a missile from a SAM site as she took it out, then moving onto the oil tank next to it. As expected, another chain reaction. It just kept going on and on, but there was some mild satisfaction in the destruction. Scanning the area and her radar, Naomi saw that the other Spares were focusing their attacks on the oil tanks and enemy aircraft, not paying much attention to the tankers out at sea that were attempting to make an escape before they suffered the same fate as the other ship that was stuck in port. "Hey, Tabloid, do you want to give me a hand with the tankers?" she asked him, although she didn't know if he'd actually agree to help her.
"Yeah, sure, I'll give you a hand," Tabloid answered and broke off from the others to form up on her wing. There were three ships, two of them further out. She let Tabloid go first, diving and firing two missiles to destroy the first one. Naomi switched from her regular missiles back to her special weapon and fired at the second one from a longer range. Together, each one firing one missile, Naomi and Tabloid took care of the third one without any trouble. "Well, their cargo's just fish food, now. Nice work, Trigger!"
"Appreciate the help!" Naomi couldn't help but chirp. It was the most civil that he'd been to her in several days. It was kind of nice to have someone watch her back again, but she knew that it would only last a few minutes before he'd split off again.
Bandog's voice came over the radio again, sounding more than a little disappointed. "I've got some bad news," he said. "The megastorm Inessa 2 that formed a few days ago is approaching our AO. There's not much time left, so hurry up and finish your work if you want to stay out of solitary."
"No time to smell the roses, then," Tabloid said with a wistful sigh. "Well, let's hurry it up. Shouldn't be too hard, right?"
Count snorted at that, strafing a set of oil tanks before climbing up to watch the show. "Tell me about it. I mean, a fighter pilot needs to fight. Missions like this are too easy," he said, his comment similar to what Naomi was thinking earlier. "It's like watching a fireworks display. A lot of fun, but really, what do you get out of it?"
"Burn, baby, burn," another one of their wingmen said as Naomi took out a SAM site that was giving him a trouble. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "Trigger, you're just quietly plugging away! You think you're the only sane one here?"
Naomi sighed, not sure at first if she should answer. Honestly, she probably was the only sane one. Everyone else would probably beg to differ. "Well, actually, not really," she replied, mostly talking to herself. "I...actually question this entire squadron's sanity, myself included at this point." With that, she used her machine gun to take care of an enemy helicopter that refused to let up on her. She didn't get a response from the pilot that spoke to her, and she didn't know who he was, either. Not that she really wanted to know who he was.
Tabloid let out a scoff as he watched the scene unfolding around him. "You know, just look at us. Bandog was right. We're no proper military."
Full Band let out an irritated sigh as he pulled away from a chimney that he'd taken out. "Enough with the holier-than-thou act, Tabloid. It's not like you're the only one who's realized this."
"You kidding me, Full Band? I belong in the penal unit." Tabloid let out an incredulous chuckle. "And Trigger, you belong here even more than I do!" She tried to focus on her job and not the conversation around her, but at the mention of her name she couldn't help but flinch a little. Naomi didn't like talking about why she was in the penal unit, although recently it seemed everyone wanted to bring it up as often as they could. It was like she was the new convict all over again.
"Well, it's all about where you're from," Count sneered. Naomi gritted her teeth as he added in a dark tone, "Isn't that right, Trigger?"
Naomi didn't reply as the squadron continued to fly in at a low altitude, hit the targets and then climb and circle around for another run. There wasn't any order in what they were doing, and Naomi knew Tabloid had a good point. They weren't a proper military. They weren't even close to it. And Bandog made this clear to them several times. Why did Tabloid act as if it was some groundbreaking discovery? Bandog interrupted the chatter, not that they seemed to mind. "Inessa 2 will be arriving in three minutes. That's all the time I can give you."
"Shit!" Full Band spat. "We're out of time!"
"He just told us we had three minutes, Full Band," Naomi replied, trying to add a bit of humor to the situation. "That's not exactly out of time." She heard Count groan, while Full Band and Bandog both stifled a laugh. The rest of the squadron ignored them and continued to bomb the port.
After a few moments of silence, Tabloid spoke up again. "Hey Trigger, I've got a question for you. Why do you think that this stupid war keeps dragging on, huh?"
"Here he goes..." Naomi heard someone say, sounding as if they'd talked to him about this before.
"Of course he'd ask Trigger about it," another one added. "I mean, her old man had pretty much the same ideas."
"Hey! Watch your mouths and continue the attack!" Naomi snapped at them, hoping that she sounded at least a little intimidating. Another touchy subject with her as of late, she didn't want anyone disrespecting her father. He wasn't there to defend himself, not that he could really defend what he'd done if everything she'd been told was actually true. And it seemed it was. Still irritated, she shook her head and scanned her radar for the next target. Most of the clusters were gone. She relaxed a little. "Sorry, Tabloid. I don't really have an answer to your question. I guess I've never given it any thought."
"Well I have," Tabloid replied, sounding more than a little annoyed. "And I think Solo Wing had the right idea. It's all because countries exist. Do away with them and our problems would be solved. You can't start a war over territory if the territory belongs to nobody, right? Well, shouting that and throwing a rock is what got me in here." Naomi didn't know how to respond, and she didn't really feel like it even if she did know what to say. To be fair, Tabloid had a point. Then again, countries did some good as well. It gave people a structure in some ways. At this point, Naomi didn't really know what to think. She loved her country, but they turned their back on her and threw her in with Spare Squadron.
Bandog butted into the conversation, "Yeah, well, you all have free meals and a warm bed. You should thank our good citizens." The remaining time they had left went by quickly. There was barely anything left, and Naomi studied the destruction almost with...satisfaction. Bandog also seemed pleased by their work. "Huh. Looking good, Spare Squadron. You made it just in time."
"Expect anything less?" Full Band asked, obviously not expecting an answer. He chuckled. "I'll take jobs like this any day."
As the squadron got into some sort of formation, Naomi saw the massive sandstorm heading their way. Bandog was right. They'd been cutting it a little close, though. "Megastorm Inessa 2 is about to arrive." There was a pause before Bandog spoke again, sounding more urgent and annoyed than before, "Hang on Spare Squadron, HQ just sent a message. It looks like some oil tankers loaded with oil got away. HQ saw them on satellite. Orders are to burn down everything that turns up."
Naomi was already making a mood, spotting three of them following after the others, just on the edge of the storm. She dove for them, switching to special weapons for the first two, figuring she'd go ahead and use that more than she had been. She was almost out of LASMs, anyways. It wouldn't be long. Naomi switched back to her regular missiles and waited for the tone that announced to her that she had a lock. She pulled the trigger and pulled away, assessing the situation before checking her radar for the next target. "Spare 15, target destroyed," she announced to Bandog. "The enemy's scattered through the storm. It's gonna be hard to find them all." In her mind, she added, If we flew through a thunderstorm, then this is nothing, right?
"Why are they popping on and off of radar?" Count asked, sounding bored with the mission and just as tired of everything going on. He probably wanted to get back to his cell and mope around like he'd been doing over the last few days.
Bandog wasted no time answering his question, "Sand clouds. The sand breaks up here and there and that's when the radar picks 'em up. If you detect something, then you need to strike fast."
"So just staring at my radar and trolling," Count said with a sigh. He was obviously irritated. Naomi felt bad for him, just as tired and ready to return to base as he was. "For the record, this is not my style."
"Whatever," Bandog snapped, no doubt tired of Count's attitude. "Even in sand, you can lock on if you get close enough."
"Really?" Full Band asked, pulling up over the storm instead of flying straight through it. It seemed he and the rest of the squadron were playing it safe, reluctant to dive into the sand and risk damaging their aircraft. At least, that was Naomi's theory. Full Band added to his question, "Are you sure you can trust that intel?"
"Pfft," Naomi snorted. "Easy for you to say, Full Band." There was a long silence after that. Naomi was carefully scanning her radar. Now was a really good time for her to put her photographic memory to good use. She flew alongside Full Band and Tabloid as she scanned her radar. If she focused on it then she could hopefully pinpoint their locations from the last time the radar picked them up. Wouldn't be easy, but it was the only way she knew with the sand screwing everything up. She sighed, watching as the radar finally picked something up. Naomi reacted as fast as she could, quickly diving into the clouds and flying in the direction it showed just as it disappeared. She flew along, fighting the wind until she was almost on top of the targets. The radar picked them up with no issue now, and Naomi got a lock, firing without any hesitation and taking out the two tankers below before climbing up, above the sandstorm, with the intention of resuming her search. "Hey, Bandog, I think I got two of them."
Bandog was quiet for a moment before he finally announced, "You're right, Trigger. Two tanker trucks destroyed." To the rest of the squadron, he added, "Just make sure you wipe 'em all out."
"Trigger got one already?" one of their wingmen asked. Naomi heard him laugh. "Alright, then! Take that!"
"Eyes like a jackal, Trigger," Tabloid said in a surprisingly cheerful tone. It was the happiest she'd heard him sound in a while. Apparently blowing things up really was a good form of therapy. He took on a more serious tone as he'd done earlier in the mission, "It's gonna be hard to sift through all of this sand."
Count let out another scoff, having been quiet for some time once again. "You guys do whatever you want," he said to Tabloid and Naomi, "I'm going off by myself."
"Fine. Okay. If you think that's for the best," Tabloid said, raising the pitch of his voice so that he would have sounded happy if not for the obvious annoyance at Count and his comment.
Naomi, on the other hand, wasn't comfortable with the squadron splitting up and getting scattered all over the place with the sandstorm going on. She wasn't happy with any of her squadron mates going off by themselves, even if she knew she couldn't prevent it. Taking on a softer tone than Tabloid had chosen to use, she decided to speak up, finally saying something to Count that wasn't defensive or hostile, "Count, I don't think that's a good idea. We don't know what tricks Erusea could have up their sleeves. I mean, they could be hiding SAM sites down there for all we know."
"Trigger, you're not the squadron leader, so stop acting like you care about any of us," Count said with a frustrated sigh. Naomi managed to catch a glimpse of his plane pulling away from the rest of them, heading off towards the north of the operation area. It wasn't long before he eventually dove into the sand cloud, informing the rest of them in a suddenly determined way, "I've got one on radar! Moving!" And just like that, the rest of the squadron followed suit in splitting off, scattering about the operation area just as Naomi had predicted they would. Dammit, Count.
Shaking her head, she went back to focusing on finding the targets, carefully flying back into the storm and making careful adjustments to keep from being blown into the ground by the wind. It reminded her of Yinshi Valley, minus the giant rocks and lightning. And rain. Maybe they weren't all that similar, but the wind wasn't on Naomi's side in either situation. It was starting to be a real pain. At this point, the only good thing it did was keep her from overheating at the penal base. On a good day, at least.
Finally, with no help from the wind, she got a visual on the next target. She got a lock and fired, but hadn't considered or even got a good look at the surrounding terrain and the missile went straight into the ground. Groaning with frustration, she pulled straight up and then pulled the plane all the way back towards the ground, the plane's nose angled straight towards the ground. She got a lock, fired, made sure the missile hit, and then pulled up in the nick of time. Tabloid confirmed her kill, "Nice one, Trigger! Spare 15 has eliminated a target!"
Bandog's voice came over the radio, but he wasn't egging them on like Naomi had come to expect. "Spare 2! Count! Where the hell do you think you're going?" Bandog demanded, and Naomi figured that he wasn't happy that Count had split off from the others. "You're approaching Erusean territory! Return!" It wasn't much of an order, since Bandog sounded more flustered and surprised by Count's actions than he did angry. Of course, it was still there, but Naomi was expecting him to sound more forceful than he did.
Count also seemed to notice the lack of aggressiveness in his voice. "I'm just following orders to find tankers," he replied as if he'd done nothing wrong. "So while you wait, why don't you just go chew on a bone?" Surprisingly, Bandog let him get away with the comment. Naomi knew she'd never get away with it. Unless Bandog just didn't feel like threatening him with solitary, in which case she felt a little better. Still, it wasn't fair that Count got away with being an ass and no one else did.
Naomi and Tabloid both went after the same group of targets, both easily destroying two out of the three tankers before Tabloid circled around to take care of the third. Bandog sounded a lot happier now that the mission was continuing. "Vehicle down! Heh. The rising smoke marks their graves."
"Nice sentiment, Bandog," Count said. Naomi could imagine the smirk on his face as he said that. Not that he wasn't ever smirking or scowling whenever he talked. He only ever smiled if it would piss someone off, and even then it was never genuine.
As the mission went on, mostly with Naomi, Tabloid, and Count taking care of the targets while everyone else struggled to search through the sand, everyone seemed to fall into an awkward silence. Full Band finally broke it by making an observation about the area. "You know, these bastards picked a hell of a place to hide," he said, chuckling. "It's nothing but sand and rocks. Come to think of it, it's not a bad place to build a prison, eh?"
"Hey, you're right Full Band," Bandog sneered. "And we can toss you in it as soon as it's up." Most of the squadron, Full Band included, laughed at Bandog's roast. Naomi kept quiet, although she did find it somewhat amusing. The laughter soon died down, and once again they focused on their work. That was, until Bandog's urgent voice came over the radio, "Dammit. Spare Squadron, a new enemy is approaching. Bearing 350 from the reference point." Naomi checked her radar to confirm what Bandog had told them. He was right, not that she really doubted him. They were likely aircraft, considering that they weren't disappearing from radar every five seconds like the tankers were.
"They're coming from the north!" Tabloid said, sounding concerned and frustrated all at once. "Did they pick up Count's aircraft?"
"Maybe so," Naomi admitted. Tabloid had a point. And Count was flying extremely close to Erusean territory. "He might have tripped something while he was looking for tankers."
"Wait a sec! Don't go blaming me!" Count snapped at them, clearly upset that Naomi and Tabloid's first thought was of him. Not that it wasn't true.
Naomi finally got a good look at the approaching aircraft, and she growled in frustration. Drones. Of course they'd interfere with the mission. "Bandog, I've got a visual on the targets," she said, not bothering to hide the bitterness she felt towards the stupid little aircraft. "They're Erusean drones. Those sons of bitches just don't want to leave us alone. Dammit! It feels like they're always after us!"
"This doesn't change a thing. The mission stays the same: destroy the tankers," Bandog said to them.
Immediately, the prisoners began protesting the order. Full Band was the most vocal about it. "You're out of your mind, Bandog! There's no way we can chase the damn tankers now, they're coming!" Naomi, out of the corner of her eye, saw him roughly pull his plane around a drone, the missile it fired at him just barely missing him. He grunted as he pulled himself back together. "Argh! You see how hard it's gonna be?! A cat doesn't have enough lives to carry out your orders!"
"Just do your duty, and destroy the tankers!" Bandog snapped at them.
"This is Spare 15," Naomi said with a sigh. "Wilco." Although she was frustrated with the drones, and she was worried about how well the squadron would hold up against a fight with them, she knew that the faster she took out the tankers, the quicker they could go home. While the others hesitated, Naomi made a move for the last place she saw a target, switching to her LASMs so that she could get rid of them and attack from farther away. The second she got a lock she fired. One down. Then another. She wanted to go home, and she'd be damned if she was letting a bunch of worthless machines get in the way of that.
The rest of the squadron seemed surprised by her willingness to engage, and even more surprised by the destruction of the targets. While everyone else gawked at the sudden resumption of the destruction, Tabloid simply let out a hearty laugh that surprised Naomi, "Haha! Y'know, Trigger, I like your style!" Naomi didn't reply, not wanting to let herself get distracted, but she did smile to herself. It seemed Tabloid was starting to get back to his normal self.
Naomi's happiness was short lived, though. Just when she thought that the UAVs wouldn't be much of a handful this time around and she could actually focus on the main task, several of them got on her tail and stubbornly pursued her. She managed to evade their missile and just barely take out one of the tankers, but the missile warnings in her ear was starting to get on her nerves. That combined with the rest of Spare Squadron struggling with the UAVs (and one of them quickly getting shot down) was enough to cause even the most tolerant and laid-back person to start dealing with sensory overload. "Alright, you know what? I've had enough of this shit!" she spat, maneuvering with some effort to evade one of their missiles and get the three UAVs in her sights. Running low on missiles, she knew it would be hard to deal with both the surface and the air, but she didn't have much of a choice. She managed to take care of one of them before the second split off and the third was taken care of suddenly when Tabloid swooped into the rescue.
"Hey! The dumbass is at it again!" a member of Spare Squadron said, sounding a little too pleased. "Now's our chance to retreat!" Oh. That explained a lot.
"Have you idiots forgotten what happens to deserters?" Bandog demanded, sounding more and more pissed off by the minute. "I'll send you out to dig up landmines with your bare hands!"
Another one spoke up as one of their pilots ignored Bandog and withdrew from the area anyways. "Well I'm sticking around. You know why that political offender jackass is still alive, don't you?" Naomi knew he was talking about Tabloid. There was no one else they could be talking about, actually.
"Let me take a wild guess: Trigger?" Full Band asked.
"Yeah," the pilot replied. "Higher chance of living with her, even if she is freaking insane."
"Well, among other things," Full Band added with a chuckle.
Naomi couldn't help but grin a little, even if she wasn't on the best of terms with the other convicts at the moment. It seemed her original plan of flying like a maniac and blowing stuff up to get in their good graces was actually a decent strategy. And a fairly enjoyable one at that, if anything else. It did surprise her that the rest of the squadron seemed willing to follow her lead, even if they were doing their own thing. At least they stuck around and didn't retreat like the others had. She and Tabloid were doing most of the work with the UAVs, though, with Tabloid keeping track of how many drones had gone down. "Not bad, Trigger," he said to her. "You've got seven down so far. You might just get 'em all."
Bandog didn't seem to share their enthusiasm. "For God's sake, Trigger," he snarled at her. "Don't tell me you're taking out drones for your squadron now." Naomi didn't answer him as she scanned her radar for signs of the rest of the tankers. Bandog went on, even though she was only half listening and actually trying to focus on the task at hand, "They're not your friends. They're convicts just like you. Take a page out of their book and just worry about saving your own skin. You listening, Trigger? Target the tankers so that you can hurry up and get out of here!"
She took a deep breath. "Bandog, what do you think I'm trying to do?" Naomi asked him, glancing away from her radar and up towards the sky as if she expected to see him there or something. Of course, the AWACS was nowhere to be seen, as expected. "I'm trying my best to find the tankers, but the UAVs are getting in my way. If they go down then we can focus on the tankers. It's kind of a win-win strategy. Ultimately, we've still gotta get the UAVs either way, right?" She heard what sounded like Bandog huffing in annoyance but he didn't protest any further. Perhaps he knew Naomi had a point, or maybe he just realized that she was too stubborn to listen to him.
"This stupid mission has become way too dangerous," Full Band grumbled. Naomi looked around to see if she could spot him, but only Tabloid and Count were nearby, the rest of the squadron scattered around the operation area.
One of the pilots that stayed agreed, bitterly adding, "Damn Count for dragging us into this shit!"
"Shut the hell up!" Count immediately replied, sounding stressed out by both the mission and his wingmen jumping on him. "This has nothing to do with me!" Naomi saw his Flanker roll to evade a missile and then he pulled it up and around to take out the drone on his tail, followed by a SAM site that was uncovered. There were two tankers along with it. "Trigger, stop sitting there and gimme a hand!" he snapped at her as he flew in low and fired at the first tanker truck, pulling up to avoid crashing into the ground. The last one was left to Naomi, and she did the same thing Count had done. She lowered her altitude, waited for a lock and fired immediately.
However, just as the missile struck the truck and Naomi started to pull up, there was a loud burst followed by a bright, blinding blue light. Her plane shook and it took her a moment to regain her senses and control as she craned her neck to look back at the source of the explosion. One little tanker caused that? "Holy shit..." Naomi breathed out, grunting with the effort of pulling away from the ground and clear of the immediate shockwave from the explosion.
Tabloid and Count seemed to share her bewilderment and were stunned for a moment. "Huh?!" Tabloid managed to say. "What the hell?!"
"Hey, what was that explosion from?!" Count demanded. He briefly joined up on Naomi's wing, alongside Tabloid, as the three of them attempted to process what had happened. As if Count thought Naomi had any idea what it was, he asked her cautiously, "Uh...Trigger, what sort of missiles are you carrying?"
"Standard missiles, Count, what else would I have?" Naomi asked him, her annoyance at his absurd question outweighing her surprise from the explosion. Although still on edge from the unexpected reaction, she was able to get her head back in the game and studied her radar for the next targets. No more surprises, please, Naomi silently pleaded as she made a move for the next target near to her location. Then she heard the missile lock warning and was reminded of the UAVs. "Ugh...I really hate these damned drones..."
"If we go after the tankers, then our tails will be exposed," Tabloid pointed out to anybody who would listen. "You know what...actually, Trigger, I'll cover you. You focus on the tankers and I'll pick off the guys coming after you. That is...if you're up for some more teamwork?"
Once again, she was taken aback by his lack of hostility or indifference. Not that she didn't appreciate it. Naomi smiled. "Yeah...yeah, Tabloid. That sounds great," she said to him. Out of the corner of her eye, as she and Tabloid joined up and headed in the direction of the next targets (or where Naomi remembered seeing them on the radar) she saw Count pulling away from the rest of them, back towards the port where they'd come from. Apparently he wasn't in the mood for any teamwork. "Count, where are you going?"
"The weapon system's acting up," he explained in a monotone. "I can't fight like this, and it's suicide to even try. I'm gonna break off."
Full Band let out a scoff. "There he goes, running away again. And he's who drew the drones here."
"Pfft, say whatever you want, Full Band," Count said, back to his prickly self after going so long without insulting or snapping at somebody. Naomi was actually pretty sure it was a new record for him. About a minute without being a jerk. That sounded about right. Just before he was — presumably — out of range to talk any longer, he quickly added to Full Band, "Have fun with your new friends." And he didn't say another word for them. The rest of the squadron all grumbled in annoyance at his departure, many of them calling him a coward and an asshole. Naomi did feel a little bad. The rest of them had been ganging up on him a fair amount afte the drones showed up. He probably just got tired of being singled out.
Bandog didn't bother saying anything about Count's withdrawal, at least, he didn't object to it. Nor did he threaten any of them with solitary, much to Naomi's surprise. "Count's got a point, as much as I hate to admit it," he said to them. "You guys can't stick around forever, or else your planes are going to get damaged from all the sand. Hurry up and finish your work." There was a pause. "Hold on...we've got a target confirmed near Full Band. Dig around there."
"Well, that cheers me up," Full Band said with a bitter laugh. "Not that I give a rat's ass."
"You sound like you know somethin', Full Band," Tabloid pointed out as he finished downing a nearby drone.
Full Band chuckled. "Well, I do," he replied, and Naomi knew him at least well enough to know that he was smirking right now. "But I don't just give intel away for free."
Naomi bristled at this and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yeah, that's bullshit and you know it, Full Band," she snapped at him, although she didn't mean to sound so harsh. She wasn't necessarily wrong. If he really didn't give away intel for free, then Naomi wouldn't be in her present funk, having to work her way back up from the bottom once again. "You'll give it away for your own entertainment, so don't act like you're any good at keeping secrets." With this, she came across the next target. A SAM and a tanker. She took both of them out with ease, pulling up sharply as there was yet another bright blue explosion. "Shit! Hey, Full Band, do you know anything about that, huh?!"
"No..." Full Band muttered, but something told her that he could be lying. Who knew how much he lied about. Naomi grunted in frustration, gritting her teeth as she flew up from the storm to join Full Band and Tabloid among the swarm of drones that had suddenly moved in on their position. Naomi quickly downed one on Full Band's tail and gave him the opportunity to focus on his own target. "Jeez, Trigger, watch it! That came pretty close to hitting me, y'know."
Tabloid looked around at the remaining allies from the squadron that had come to their aid and broke off to help Naomi continue the search for the remaining tankers. "Wow, more people stayed behind than I thought," he said, clearly surprised. "I guess my strategy is working pretty well, eh? Stick with Trigger and you'll make it. That's how I'm still alive, anyways." It was Naomi's turn to be surprised, forgetting for just a second about the recent tension. He had that much faith in her? Was the rest of the squadron starting to share this? She opened her mouth to say something to him, but Tabloid suddenly shot in front of her before diving towards the sand clouds. "Trigger, two more tankers! Let's take 'em out so we can get back to base already, eh?"
At this moment, just as Naomi was brought out of her thoughts, she saw that Tabloid was right as two targets appeared on radar. She quickly followed Tabloid and within a few seconds the last tankers that Naomi knew of were nothing more than wrecks in the road. For the remainder of their time as they waited for more tankers to show up or for HQ to confirm that all tankers really were down, Spare Squadron began to pick off the drones with newfound energy and confidence. Finally, the confirmation they were waiting for came at last, with Bandog finally speaking up after a moment of silence on his end, "HQ sent a message. Those were the last ones. All aircraft, return to base. Burning up all of those tankers will starve their drones for a while and give our allies a chance to regroup. You did alright, Spare Squadron."
Everyone began to cheer and whoop over the radio, those that survived the sandstorm and the drones seeming shaken but nonetheless excited. "I'm still alive! Haha!" one of them laughed. "I guess Tabloid didn't have such a bad idea after all!"
"Yeah," Full Band said tiredly, still sounding pleased regardless. "'Stick with Trigger and you'll make it', eh? Worked like a charm." Naomi couldn't help but give a sheepish laugh at this, having some doubts in how well they would actually do if they continued to fly by that motto. Did she actually do any good, or would she just be a crutch to them in the long run?
Bandog obviously seemed to look down on the new phrase, quickly growling at Full Band, "If that's all you think you need to survive, you might as well get your last rites now."
"Exactly. That was all dumb luck," a new voice agreed with a sneer. Or rather an old voice agreed with a sneer. There was no mistaking Count's ever irritated tone.
"Wait a minute. You were actually in earshot, Count?" Full Band asked incredulously.
Naomi looked around, but he wasn't in visual range. He was probably already on his way back to base. She scoffed. "Yeah, he must've been straining to hear from high altitude. Knowing how massive his ego is and all that." The rest of the squadron laughed at Count's expense, and even Naomi smirked at her own joke.
Bandog, on the other hand, was far less amused. As the squadron started to head in the same direction as Count, he quickly turned his anger from Full Band to Count. "It seems you've learned absolutely nothing in the sky, Count," he said, and Naomi could only imagine what he was referring to with that.
"Well, yeah. It's not like there's anything I can learn from Trigger!" Count snapped in response. Naomi clenched her teeth together and bit back a response. She was tired of arguing for the day, especially with Count. Eventually, she knew she'd have to confront him though. If he kept acting like this, constantly out to get her, then the entire squadron would be screwed over by the two of them. Naomi was finally making progress, and here he was, hating her even more than he already did simply because of her dad. She wanted to fix it, one way or another.
|...|...|...|
444th Air Base, Zapland.
1623hrs.
Count leaned against the hangar doors with a cigarette in his mouth, attempting to get his radio in working order. As he fiddled with the dials a little he finally got some static from it, the most progress he'd had with it since he started working. Checking around different frequencies, there was still no talking. Not even garbled, distorted speech. Short lived victory, then. He sighed, looking out at the runway as he took a drag on his cigarette. Outside, a few of the remaining members of Spare Squadron were having a cheerful conversation with one another about the mission. Trigger, Tabloid, and Full Band were nowhere to be seen. In fact, Count hadn't seen them since the debriefing. One thing he knew, though, was that Trigger was beyond pissed off. Most likely at him.
He turned his head to look inside the hangar where he saw the Scrap Queen going over their aircraft, muttering something under her breath. Noticing that Count was watching her, even if only for a little while, the mechanic glared at him with an extremely irritated look on her face. From all the way across the hangar, she shouted at him, "What the hell did you morons do to these planes?! They're full of sand!" Count didn't offer a reply, figuring it was mostly rhetorical anyways. If the Scrap Queen wanted an answer then she'd probably get it from Trigger or Tabloid. She and Count never really talked a lot anyways, other than simple things about aircraft repair or the state of the planes.
As the Scrap Queen (Avril was her name if he remembered correctly) returned to her work, Count carelessly tossed his cigarette out and returned the tools he was using as always, tucking the radio under his shoulder. Both of them were in silence until someone else entered the hangar and Count and Avril's attention was brought from what they were doing to the open doors. As expected, Trigger, Tabloid, and Full Band were standing there. Bandog was likely on his way, along with his mangy pet. Count tried to lay low as Tabloid and Trigger both greeted Avril. "Sorry about the planes, Avril," Tabloid said with a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting awkwardly. Count smirked a little at his wingman's awkwardness.
"Yeah, we couldn't really prevent it, what with the sandstorm and all," Trigger added, although without the smile or any real pleasant emotion. Although he didn't want to admit it, he did flinch slightly when Trigger's eyes flicked towards him and he was able to clearly see her anger at him. She excused herself from Tabloid, Full Band, and Avril and quickly walked over to Count. He played it cool, acting as if he was simply looking over his Flanker, but one look at the radio said otherwise. He hadn't cut it off and you could still hear the static. For a moment, once Trigger reached him, she said nothing. It was like she was looking for the right words. Then she went the indirect route, "I see you finally got your radio working."
"To some extent, yeah," Count replied, making it clear that he was just as upset and mistrustful of her as she likely was of him. He turned back to where he'd set the radio and flicked it off, crossing his arms and staring her down. Although Trigger was clearly angry, she didn't seem to have all of her thoughts together. She'd apparently come over to chew him out but was drawing a blank. Count let out a huff and raised an eyebrow, "What do you want, Trigger? Because I'd be happy if you'd go back to your little friends and leave me alone."
Trigger sucked in a sharp breath, struggling to keep a level voice as she asked him, "Why do you continue to leave all of us to fend for ourselves? You're Spare Squadron's self-appointed leader and yet you won't act like a leader."
Count scoffed. "The reason I'm the self-appointed squadron leader is because I'm the only one who has what it takes." Trigger bristled at this, but she didn't try and stop him from continuing. If anything, she looked as if she wanted to know more about his reasoning. Well, she'd be waiting a while. Count sighed. "Look around at us. It's like Tabloid and Bandog were saying. We aren't a proper military, we're just a bunch of cons that they tossed into some beat up planes and sent out to blow some crap up when Osea doesn't want to waste their resources. We're too disorganized and an actual leader, barking orders at us constantly would only slow us down. Besides, we've got Bandog for that. Me? I just get 'em riled up and ready for a fight."
"And yet you still try to give orders like you're in charge," Trigger retorted. Count rolled his eyes at her, but she only shook her head. "A real leader is exactly what we need. Everyone's getting picked off every fight because there's no organization. There's no teamwork, and our supposed leader — meaning you — won't do a damned think about it." She ran a hand through her hair, scoffing as she did this. "You know what, Count? Some day you're going to need someone to cover your ass, but because of this stupid 'every man for himself' mentality, you're not going to have anyone coming to your aid. And also, ever since I showed up you've been nothing but a pain in the ass, and now you're getting worse because what? Because my parents are Belkan? I didn't know about any of that! Why can't you make an effort to get along, huh?"
"Okay, first of all, brilliant speech. Really. It's inspirational," Count replied sarcastically. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool, wanting to act as detached and uninterested as possible so that she'd leave him alone. "Look, I'd be lying if I said that I trusted Belkans. I'd be lying even more if I said that I trusted any of the lowlifes in this shithole. The mentality that we all have is the only one that has kept me alive for this long, and I intend to keep it that way. If everyone else wants to die because they followed the oh-so-mighty Trigger, then let them. Eventually, nobody is gonna be left, and you'll be the first to go if you still have that stupid 'leave no man behind' attitude. Suck it up and get used to the way things are around here, and leave me the hell alone."
Count rudely shoved past Trigger, leaving her standing there processing what had just happened. He looked over his shoulder to see her returning to Tabloid and the others with a look he couldn't read on her face. He was getting real tired of her shit. She just showed up and acted like she owned the place. And why? Because she was an ace pilot's kid? Because she thought she was an actually decent pilot? Count clenched his fist as he made his way back to the cellblock. He worked like a dog to get the rest of Spare Squadron to acknowledge him as anything close to a leader, and Trigger shows up, stays for a few weeks and suddenly thinks she can preach to him about how to fly? And Full Band and Tabloid just forgot about him because of her. And now, they could just forget about her heritage? Count had said it before. She really was good at murdering people, and it wasn't hard to understand why.
As he finally reached his and Tabloid's cell, sitting down on his bunk and gritting his teeth in frustration, he decided then and there that he would do whatever it took to put Trigger back in her place. It was about time somebody did it.