Three Strikes [✓]

Persistence

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Persistence

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Cape Rainy Air Base, Erusea.
September 17th, 2019.
0800hrs.

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"Well, I'd say you're all ready to go," Colonel Hawkins said as he walked around to the back of the transport plane. Bandog and Mead had been up early, helping the small group of soldiers that would be accompanying them load up the plane. Equipment, food supplies, and personal effects all lugged out and onto the plane. The only thing they hadn't loaded up was Sarge and Bandog was trying to postpone that as long as he could. Right now, Húxiān, Trigger, and the rest of the LRSSG were entertaining Sarge while Mead and Bandog finished up. Hawkins had come down to make sure everything was going alright. He gave a tired sigh as he came to a stop in front of them, glancing towards the others. "All that's left now is to say your goodbyes. The marines are ready to leave whenever you are."

Bandog and Mead exchanged a look, neither one of them too happy about the whole plan in the first place. It was too late to back out now, and it wasn't like they had many other choices. Between sitting around and being useless while Mead did all the work or going on patrols with Sarge and actually doing some good, Bandog liked the second option a lot better than the first. Besides, Sarge was a working dog and it wasn't fair to her to stay around and be treated like a pet or something. As much as everyone else seemed to like that, Bandog wasn't big on her doing nothing more than keeping up morale. At least he and Mead wouldn't have to be stuck with each other for too long.

"That shouldn't be too long," Bandog said at last, with one final glance at Mead. She was keeping quiet, which was a nice alternative to her doing nothing more than bitching at him. Won't be long before that starts up, he thought bitterly. It was a long flight from here to Tyler Island, and it was fairly out of the way for them. At least Cyclops and Strider would have a faster route from Farbanti. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Sarge bark, fast enough to catch a glimpse of Húxiān and Trigger laughing at the dog's antics before he looked back at Hawkins. "I can't speak for Mead, but I'll be ready to go within the hour, sir. I'm just trying to give Sarge a good workout before she has to be cooped up in that kennel."

Hawkins gave a nod and an understanding smile. "Of course. By all means, take your time. I don't think anybody would mind." The colonel looked down at his watch and let out a tired huff before he spoke again. "Unfortunately, I won't be able to see you off. I've got a video meeting in a few minutes so we can make the final preparations on our next mission. Rest assured, you won't be on your own for too long. Have a safe trip, alright?"

"Thank you, sir," Bandog said, not sure of how else to respond. Colonel Hawkins had been more than a little standoffish, which Bandog simply chalked up to the extra workload he'd been given. He and Mead both said goodbye to Hawkins and watched him walk off before turning around to head over to their friends. Bandog quickly took note of Mead's scowl as they started walking. She almost never smiled, except for Tabloid and maybe Trigger and Count, but the scowl was more prominent than it usually was. He could already guess that she had something negative to say in reply, but he may as well ask her out of...friendly curiosity. If you could call it that. "And what are you pissed off about now?"

Mead shot him a disapproving look, crossing her arms as she limped alongside him. She didn't answer at first, looking as though she were debating telling him or not, but she finally spoke up. "The base commander's weird and the company commander is annoying. And aside from Count, I think I'm the only one that doesn't kiss their asses 24/7," she said at last, actually mildly cringing when she brought up Count. "I'm not exactly thrilled to be agreeing with that asshole on something, either, but it is what it is."

Bandog frowned. "You two really need to let up on Wiseman and Hawkins. They didn't have to take us in, but they did. I wasn't too happy with the arrangement, either, but they could have already shipped you off to Tyler Island to die with the rest of Spare. Or what was left of them, anyways," he said to her. "All I'm saying is that you all should be grateful to them. Without their help, you'd still be stuck fixing up planes for lowlife criminals that don't care one way or the other about you."

She let out an irritated huff. "Whatever. You can think what you'd like about them. All I know is that if it wasn't for the air force, I wouldn't even be here in the first place," Mead answered him sharply. "This isn't my fight, but I'm going because I've got nowhere else to. I may have chosen it this time around, but I don't have to be happy about it."

A short silence fell over them as they approached their companions. Bandog would very much have liked to continue arguing with her, believing completely that she and the other convicts had only been there as a result of their own actions. They redeemed themselves and earned their right to go free, Bandog wouldn't say anything against that, but they still had a chip on their shoulder. Bandog wasn't really in a position to criticize them for that, but at least he could lay his blame where it actually belonged instead of on people who had spent the last few months helping him. Still, he'd learned that Mead was stubborn, perhaps even more than the others were, and arguing any more would just be pointless and exhausting. So he kept his mouth shut.

Once they reached the others, Sarge immediately broke away from Húxiān (who had crouched down to pet her) and snatched her ball up, racing over to Bandog. He reached down to scratch her behind the ears, earning a tail wag from her, before he wrestled the ball free from her mouth and threw it as far as she could. Without any hesitation, she raced off after it, carefully maneuvering between Húxiān and the rest of the pilots as she did. Húxiān and Trigger both laughed.

"That dog of yours is somethin' else, Bandog," Húxiān said, shaking her head. When she noticed the half-hearted smile he gave her, then the look on Mead's face, her own smile faded. "I take it from the depressing looks, you've both finished packing up?"

The two of them nodded and Tabloid gave them a surprised look. "Wow. That didn't feel like very long at all," he said, looking to Mead. His usual, annoyingly cheerful demeanor faded fast as he let out a sigh and asked her, "So, does that mean you'll be leaving right away?"

Mead glanced at Bandog with disapproval and shrugged. "Considering that Bandog still has to catch that mutt of his, we've probably got a few minutes," she said to him. She gave his shoulder a gentle, playful punch and smirked, her eyes lighting up. "Aw, cheer up, Tabloid."

He tried for a small smile, but it wasn't much compared to his usual grin. Everyone, except for Bandog, gave him a sympathetic look. Bandog was just tired of watching these two act the way they did, all the time. Still, it was nice to know that Mead wasn't completely made of stone. She had the patience to handle Tabloid, Trigger, and Count, and an obvious soft spot for Tabloid. But she still hated Bandog, and the others just barely trusted him. He wasn't going to come around that easily.

While he watched Mead continue talking with Tabloid before Trigger and Count started to say their own goodbyes, Bandog quickly took notice of Húxiān's subdued expression and how quiet she suddenly was. He looked over at her curiously and raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're going to get all sappy on me, too," he said, almost in a teasing tone of voice.

Húxiān was taken aback momentarily, but she quickly played it cool and scoffed. "Yeah, you wish. I ain't gonna miss you that much." Although it was a perfectly fair thing to say, Bandog felt a little offended by it. They may not have known one another for very long, but he liked to think they'd become fast friends, especially given their conversation a few days ago. She seemed to realize that what she said might have been a little too harsh and backed off a bit. "Okay, maybe I'll miss you a little. After all, you're takin' the dog with you. And you're the only other person besides Trigger who'll help me gang up on Count."

Bandog chuckled. "I'm sure you can handle him just fine on your own. And like you said, if not, Trigger's got you covered," he said to her, earning a quiet laugh.

"Right. For real, though, you and Avril stay safe out there. I've heard Tyler Island is basically hell on earth every time the fighting kicks in," Húxiān said, the slightest hint of concern in her voice. She looked down when Sarge returned and gave a fond smile, leaning down to pet Sarge between the ears, briefly massaging the dog's forehead. Sarge gave an appreciative whine and wagged her tail, causing Húxiān's smile to grow. "But, then again, you've got this big ol' softy to look after you. What do ya say, Sarge? You gonna keep him out of trouble? Yes, that's a very good girl!"

"I get the feeling you're going to miss Sarge more than me," Bandog said with a smirk. Húxiān rolled her eyes and looked up at him, giving an exasperated chuckle before she stood up beside him. He sighed, realizing now just how little he wanted to go. Even if he was actually getting to do some real work, he'd miss Húxiān's company. And, in spite of what she said or how she acted, he knew that deep down she was going to miss him as well. "Good luck at Farbanti. Kick some Erusean ass for me, alright?"

She grinned and her dark brown eyes had a sudden spark in them. "You know I'm gonna!"

Húxiān elbowed him when she said this, and he gave a rare smile himself. One that he quickly wiped away as soon as Count looked over at them. Whatever this war had in plan for Bandog down the line, dying from embarrassment due to Count's dumbass remarks was not on the list of ways he'd like to go out. He felt better, thanks to Húxiān, though. Even if he and Sarge were heading straight into hell, he at least knew that Osea wasn't going down without a fight. One way or another, the capital and that island was theirs. Bandog would do whatever he could to make sure of that, even if he died fighting for them. He wasn't going down a coward or a liar, you could bet on that.

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1200hrs.

It didn't take long for Wiseman and Major Grimm to assign everybody some extra work once Avril and Bandog had left for Tyler Island. Unfortunately, in spite of the operation's success, Strider Squadron and Basilisk Team had made a pretty big mess of the base. Twisted and torn vehicles and debris from crashed aircraft littered the second runway and the far half of the main one. Those were the main spots, though there were others scattered around the island that had taken a beating. The air force, army, and marines had to work together once again to clear up the place, starting wherever they felt like and going from there.

Count was stuck working with more of Grimm's men than his own wingmates. Tabloid, Trigger, and Fencer were working alongside him, but they were outnumbered by ground troops. He didn't have an issue with the company so much as he did with the work itself. Memories of working in the hellish temperatures at Zapland in the summer, clearing away debris from his own fallen squadron mates or from any of their buildings that ended up taking a beating. Count hated working on the ground for many reasons and that was one of them, though the conditions did improve a bit once Trigger came along. He may not like Fencer too much, but at least he and Tabloid and Trigger offered something to take his mind off the work.

Of course, Tabloid had been off ever since Avril had agreed to go to Tyler Island. Húxiān had seemed a bit disappointed that Bandog was going, too, though Count really didn't understand why she was suddenly so fond of him to begin with. Tabloid, on the other hand, had always had a soft spot for Avril. Count had been his cellmate since the first day Tabloid got there, and thus Count had become friends with him pretty quickly. Count could read him like a book, and the moment Tabloid saw Avril arrive at Zapland, the guy literally froze for a couple of seconds.

Count felt bad for the guy, knowing just how long this ridiculous crush of his had been going on. But one of the first things Count and the rest of Spare had learned about Avril was that she could handle herself. Champ tried to hit on her once, not bothering to keep his hands to himself, and she nearly knocked his teeth out with that wrench of hers...among some other less pleasant and far more painful things. If anybody could survive in a hellhole like Tyler Island was said to be, it was Avril. And as much as he hated to admit it, bringing Bandog along wasn't such a bad idea, either. At least that dog of his was finally out of everyone's hair.

As he and Tabloid finished tossing a large sheet of scrap metal onto the pile they'd set aside, Count took a deep breath and looked around at how much work they'd gotten done already. "Ha. At this rate, we might actually be done by dinnertime," he said, clapping his hands together to brush some of the dust off the gloves he was wearing. Tabloid nodded in agreement, but said nothing, tossing a smaller scrap that they'd missed into the pile. Count sighed. "Oh, c'mon, Tabloid. Lighten up. You'll see her again."

Tabloid scowled, giving Count a sharp look that he wasn't used to seeing. "I should 'lighten up'? Really? Like you wouldn't be upset if Trigger ran off on her own like this."

Count gave Tabloid a look of warning. "First off, Avril isn't alone. As much as I hate saying it, she's got Bandog. Guy may be an asshole, but he's got it too good to screw things up now," he said, hating that he was actually defending Bandog of all people. Truth was, he actually didn't care much what happened to Bandog, but if it gave him an argument then he was going to use it. "And second, Trigger's always running headfirst into danger. As much as it may scare me, I've learned that she's going to do what she wants to do and there's nothing I can say to stop her. Avril is the same way. So just accept it. Women are stubborn, and that's all there is to it."

"Pfft. Easier said than done," Tabloid answered, taking off his own gloves and flexing his hand.

"I don't know why you're acting so upset. It's not like she's your girlfriend or something," Count said nervously, already knowing it wasn't the best thing he could say right now. Still, Tabloid was fond of reality checks and had given Count more than one. If anything, he was just returning the favor.

Tabloid looked up from his hand sharply but suddenly he let out a sigh and his expression softened into a more saddened one. "Yeah. I know. That doesn't change that she's my friend, though. I know she can handle herself, but...it just doesn't feel right without her here," he said. Suddenly, he let out a dry chuckle. "How'd things get so complicated? I mean, I hate to admit it, but it was kinda easier when we were just bait. At least then we were all together."

"I know." Count took a deep breath and took a couple of steps toward Tabloid, placing his hand on Tabloid's shoulder in a comforting gesture. He tried for a reassuring smile. "Come on, don't get all down like you were the other day, Tabloid. We'll be back together and Avril'll be throwing things and cussing everyone out. Thing's'll get back to normal like that." Count snapped his fingers for emphasis and Tabloid actually perked up and gave a real, grateful smile.

"Heh...yeah, I guess you're right, Count." Tabloid shrugged and scratched the back of his neck, looking a tad embarrassed. His smile seemed to grow a little, though.

"Eh, forget about it. I just want that stupid grin of yours back. Someone's gotta be positive around here, and I'd hate for it to have to be me," Count said with mock disgust. He gave Tabloid a pat on the shoulder before pulling back, partially shoved away by Tabloid with a laugh. He took a deep breath, managing to keep from laughing, and tried to look for more work to do. A realization set in. "I don't think there's anything else we're gonna be able to move by hand. Everything else will have to be tied to a jeep or truck or something and pulled outta here." He looked over to where Trigger was helping Fencer and called out to her, "Yo, Trig! Any idea how much longer we've got?"

As Trigger and Fencer reached the pile, dropping the chunk of scrap. Trigger paused to think for a moment and looked around before she took a few steps toward him. "Honestly? We can't move any more of this by hand," she admitted, removing a glove and running a hand through her hair to brush some loose strands out of her face. "Eh. I say we stop and take a break unless Major Grimm and Wiseman have something else in mind for us."

Count felt a pang of annoyance at the mention of Wiseman. "Trust me, they'll find something," he said, crossing his arms. "I guarantee it."

"Maybe not. I know that journalist guy has been going around and interviewing everyone. He might stick you with him," Fencer said with a smile. He furrowed his brow suddenly. "Say, I can't remember if he talked to you yet or not. Has he?"

"No, he hasn't," Count replied, frowning a bit. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be interviewed or not. Sure, everyone thought he was a glory hound, but for once he didn't want anyone making a big fuss. Or worse, not even acknowledging his efforts at all. They'd either be sugarcoating his job or they'd just ask him a million questions about Trigger. He wasn't denying that Trigger was a great pilot, but she'd be the first to point out that this wasn't a one man job. He shrugged. "It's no big deal. Only people they're really looking to hear from are Trigger and Wiseman. Most of the others will probably be cut down or out completely."

"I guess you're right, but it's still an exciting thing, don't you think? I mean, the fact that he's writing a story about us, I mean...the entire country will know about what we've done. It feels pretty undeserved, honestly, but Wiseman thinks the world deserves to know to some level," Trigger said. There was a weird look of excitement and uncertainty in her eyes, but Count found that he actually agreed with her. It did feel a little undeserved, but they did deserve some credit once in a while. They didn't stay on the subject for much longer, as Trigger's eyes suddenly flicked towards the space behind them and she gave a smile and nodded. "Speaking of Wiseman, here he comes."

"Yeah. Right on time to ruin my day," Count said with a scoff, earning him an exasperated look from Fencer and a reassuring rub on the arm from Trigger. He sighed and relaxed a bit when he felt her hand on his arm, but just as soon as she had put it there, she pulled it back but stayed by his side. She may not have shared his opinion on Wiseman, but she did seem to understand where he was coming from. Or at the very least not give him a hard time about it like almost everyone else did.

Wiseman approached them with a friendly smile on his face, pausing briefly to greet the marines that had finished up, before he continued towards them. He took a look around at what they'd accomplished and nodded with an almost impressed look on his face. "Hey, you all did a pretty good job," he said to them with a light chuckle, skipping the usual greetings he could have used. "Major Grimm will be happy to hear it. I think some of the new units that arrived today are supposed to finish up with the rest, so you're all free to go if you'd like. I just finished telling the rest of the guys."

"Yes!" Trigger gave a quiet cheer, laughing. She relaxed her posture a bit and tugged at the hem of her t-shirt, having tied the upper half of her flight suit around her waist. She grimaced a little. "I'm ready to take a long shower...finally get all this gunk off of me."

Count raised an eyebrow and looked her up and down, smirking a little at the comment although she didn't notice. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking over as Wiseman started talking again. "Well, we've got a briefing tomorrow afternoon, so if you want any free time, now's the time to get it. We're making our move on Farbanti on the 19th," Wiseman said to them, and all four of them exchanged an excited look. Count tried to keep his under control, especially once Wiseman singled him out of the group. "Oh, and Count? I was hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes. You got the time?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Count said, not sure why Wiseman would want to talk to him. He looked to Trigger, who's only response was shrugging at him. Lot of help she was. He reluctantly followed Wiseman out to the middle of the runway, looking towards the open hangars where he could spot all of their planes parked. Count was itching to fly again, but he had to get through this first. He and Wiseman came to a stop and Count looked over at his company commander. "Is there something wrong, sir?"

Wiseman gave him a smile, turning slightly to look at him. "No, it's nothing like that. You don't have to look so worried. You're not in trouble, Count. Quite the opposite actually."

Count blinked in surprise. "What?"

For some reason, Wiseman found his reaction amusing, and the friendly smile widened a bit. "I wanted to compliment your performance during the last few missions. You did pretty good out there. Compared to when you first transferred, I have to say that you've improved quite a bit."

Count couldn't help but give a dry laugh, trying to play the compliment off as cool as possible. He actually didn't really think he'd done anything different. He flew like he always had, only difference was that Trigger let him off the damn leash. "Ah, I didn't improve," he said with a shrug. Smugly, he tilted his head back slightly and his smirk returned. "You merely opened your eyes up to my talent."

"Hehe. Maybe so." Wiseman didn't react at all like Count had expected, and the smug expression fell and turned to one of mild annoyance. What happened to this guy? Usually he jumped on the opportunity to knock Count down a peg, but now he was actually allowing him to joke like that? Count started to say something, opening his mouth, but Wiseman started talking before he could. "After what happened over Anchorhead Bay, I think I can safely say that I'm pretty impressed. Hell, the way you stood your ground against those mercenaries, I think I'd even say I'm proud of you."

That took Count completely off guard. He never expected to hear that, let alone from out of Wiseman's mouth. Count stumbled over his own words for a bit, completely taken aback. "Yeah, well, I couldn't just leave Trigger on her own like that to steal all the glory. Besides, I'd have never heard the end of it from you."

"That's true," Wiseman said, his eyes shining with amusement as he fought off a laugh. It seemed he was trying to stay a bit more serious than usual. "Your dedication to Trigger when you were flying as her number two was admirable." He turned around so that he was facing Count, but he looked over at where Trigger was talking to Tabloid and Fencer. He nodded very slowly. "You two make a really good team."

Count followed Wiseman's gaze. "Yeah," he said slowly. Trigger laughed at something that Fencer said and Count couldn't help but smile himself when he saw that grin of hers. He could imagine her eyes lighting up like they always did. He let out a breathy chuckle and looked back at Wiseman. "Yeah, I guess we do."

"I think I can safely say that I'm gonna enjoy having you back in Cyclops," Wiseman said, raising one eyebrow and giving Count an almost knowing look. Count looked away from Trigger and the others and back at Wiseman, internally groaning at the mention of flying with Cyclops again. He didn't say anything, though, seeing no point in wasting his breath. Wiseman smiled and clapped Count on the shoulder. "Can't think of anyone better to have my back out there. You're alright, Count."

He was too stunned by Wiseman's change in demeanor towards him to say much. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

Wiseman chuckled and actually gave the side of Count's head a playful shove, almost in a way that reminded Count of a parent or something. "Well, I've gotta go and talk to Hawkins to make some last second decisions. I'll see y'all around, okay?" With one last pat on Count's shoulder, he turned and walked away, leaving Count to watch him leave. He wasn't sure what to feel about the brief conversation. Wiseman had always been hard on him, and he kind of returned the favor. But now he wasn't sure what to think.

Letting out a deep breath, he made his way back over to Trigger, actually finding himself smiling a bit when he thought back to what Wiseman had said. In fact, he actually wanted to laugh a bit. When Trigger saw the look on his face, she looked surprised. "Well, you're in a better mood all of the sudden," she said to him in a slightly teasing way, elbowing him gently. "I thought you couldn't stand Wiseman?"

Count ran a hand through his hair and gave an almost sheepish smile. "Eh. I'm starting to think you've all had a point this whole time," he said, looking over his shoulder and shrugging. He actually hadn't been too bothered by Wiseman during the last few days, and if anything he was actually starting to like the guy. Hopefully flying under him wouldn't be as bad as it had been, now that Wiseman trusted him a bit more. He knew deep down not to get his hopes up, though. At last, he looked back at Trigger and chuckled. "He's not so bad."

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Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.1800hrs.

After Sol Squadron intercepted the Osean fighters the day before, it had been all that Mihaly could think about. Among the aces he'd seen footage of, the fighting style resembled one of them, but Mihaly couldn't put his finger on who. However, the fight had been a disappointing and anti-climactic one. The pilot made slow and lazy movements and Mihaly hadn't got any sort of thrill from the fight. They may have held their own for some time, but compared to Three Strikes they left much to be desired. Mihaly could barely believe they passed training like that. Ridiculous that Osea was so lame without any sort of ace fighting for them. Erusea was at least competent.

"General?" Mihaly brought his gaze down from the sky to see Schroeder standing over him, a tablet and chart tucked under his arm. Adjusting his glasses, he went straight to the point. "I need to compare the flight data from your last dogfight, sir. I'm sure you know the drill by now."

"Of course. I'll be along in a minute." Mihaly nodded, leaning forward slightly in his seat, willing Schroeder to walk into the hangar and wait for him instead of standing there watching. He felt like he was on display, and he didn't want anyone to know just how badly the fight had affected him. The suit hadn't held up like it should have, and with every high-G turn he had made it felt like one painful hit after another. He could hardly breathe, let alone walk, but he'd sucked the pain up just so his granddaughter wouldn't make such a big deal of it. When Schroeder didn't move, Mihaly gave him a stern look. He repeated, "I'll be along in a minute."

Schroeder seemed to take the hint, shoving his free hand into his pocket like he always seemed to do. "Sorry to bother you, sir. Take your time. I'm certainly in no rush." With that, he finally turned away and walked back inside the hangar. Something about Schroeder's comment struck Mihaly as cleverly disguised sarcasm, something he was more or less used to given his squadron and young grandchildren. It only slightly bothered him. Besides, Schroeder wasn't usually one for any sort of joking or sarcasm. He was far too clinical for that, which is why Mihaly doubted the remark was actually such.

Checking to make sure that no one was around, Mihaly forced himself onto his feet. It was one swift movement, and just as quickly as he'd gotten to his feet, his muscles began to ache. His knees buckled and an unfortunately timed cough caused him to nearly fall over. Fortunately, he was fast enough to place an arm on the chair and support himself that way, clutching his stomach with his other arm as he let out a strangled, rough cough. A cough that burned his throat and lungs. His legs trembled and ached as he put weight onto them again, his arm threatening to give out just as his legs had.

Curse my body for letting me down like this. Mihaly gritted his teeth and stopped his coughing, clearing his throat to ease what was left of the burning sensation. His mouth tasted faintly of metal, but he chose to ignore that. It was nothing and only a coward would worry about such a thing. Or let it stop him. Although every single joint and muscle protested against his movement, Mihaly took a shaky step and then straightened himself up. He stood still for a moment, then stretched, and once his body and mind understood that they would have to work, they offered him no more complaints.

He entered the hangar as though nothing had happened outside, and took a look around the hangar. Schroeder was putting something into his computers while his two assistants made some last minute checks to Mihaly's Su-30SM. Several cables ran from various spots on the aircraft and all connected to one of Schroeder's many computers. Mihaly already knew where he had to go, so he didn't bother with any questions. He just wanted to get this part over with so that he could go back to his thoughts. As he approached his plane, Schroeder's assistants gave respectful nods and hurried off to help Schroeder without a word.

Mihaly, with stiff movements, pulled himself up the ladder and dropped into the cockpit of his fighter. In place of the helmet he usually wore, this was a special helmet designed specially by the other scientists that worked with Gründer Industries and the EASA. It recorded his body's movements during a fight, monitoring his brain's activity and his vitals in more detail than the G-suit did. The visor also acted as a virtual reality type device, at least that was what Schroeder said. Mihaly barely understood most of it. All he knew was that it played a recording of his heads-up display during specific fights and he had to mimic the movements he made during the dogfight. Like a simulation, only arguably more difficult to follow.

Once he had strapped himself in, Schroeder called out to him from where he stood, his voice loud enough for Mihaly to hear clearly. "I'm going to run the footage in about a minute, so I'll let you know when. It's from your last dogfight, since I feel like that's taken a greater toll on you than our previous training exercises," Schroeder explained as though it wasn't obvious. Mihaly sat through it, though, keeping a blank expression. Schroeder continued, a bit hesitantly. "If we get the necessary results, you'll probably be able to test out the newer suit. That's the general idea, anyways."

"Let's get this over and done with, then," Mihaly said flatly and with little interest. "I see no point in doing nothing but sitting here."

Schroeder nodded and without argument he pressed a few buttons on his keyboard, and something on his touch screen tablet. When he was done, he looked back up towards Mihaly. "It's loading."

Within a few minutes, the helmet was calibrated and synced up. Mihaly checked his range of movement and coordination and everything was normal, if not a little slower than usual. From there, what he had to do was easy. The visor on the helmet showed the recording that had been made during the fight, courtesy of his computer 'co-pilot' (that Mihaly didn't think did anything useful like a real WSO did), COPRO. Mihaly began to copy the movements he made during the fight, every single movement that he could remember and that was showed. He recalled how stubborn the enemy had been, still barely anything compared to Three Strikes but enough to give him a difficult time.

Although he was able to copy his movements, he had more difficulty the second time around. Even without the pressure from the G-force, his body still ached and protested with everything he did. Every time he moved a certain way, he gritted his teeth and tensed, which only worsened the pain. He felt relief when the 'fight' was finally over and everything was shut down. Mihaly was shaking at this point, struggling slightly to unhook everything and tossing it aside with frustration towards his own body. As he began to climb down from the cockpit, the younger of Schroeder's assistants (Simon, if Mihaly recalled correctly) moved to help him, but Mihaly waved him off. Last thing he needed right then was to be treated like a helpless cripple.

He managed to bring himself around his plane once he'd sat down, carefully heading towards where Schroeder was standing. Stifling a cough, he came to a stop and tried to find any sort of emotion on Schroeder's face. Unfortunately, Schroeder kept a blank expression, although his eyes seemed to look Mihaly over almost pityingly. But he knew better than to let Mihaly in on that, if he truly did pity him. "Well?" Mihaly prompted, taking a deep breath to hopefully gather himself. His legs practically threatened to give out underneath him, but he managed to keep himself steady. In pain, yes, but steady.

Schroeder took a moment, thoughtfully looking between what was on his computers and then up towards Mihaly's plane. "I don't think the suit would hold up effectively in another dogfight," he said soon after that, turning towards the container the newest G-suit was packed away in. "It would be best if you took the upgrade. We can try some test flights to—"

"No," Mihaly interrupted him, causing Schroeder to turn suddenly with a surprised look on his face. Mihaly continued. "No mock battles. I need to save it for the real thing. Our time is limited, and I can't afford to sit and wait for a new suit to come in once we wear this one down. Have it ready and waiting. When the time comes, we'll see if it holds up. If not, then at least I won't be going down without a fight."

It looked as though Schroeder started to say something, possibly to protest, but something caught his attention and he turned towards the hangar doors with an almost guilty expression. Mihaly followed his gaze, finding Ionela and Alma standing in the doorway. Alma looked almost apathetic, as though she was already expecting a fight to break out. Ionela, on the other hand, looked between Mihaly and Schroeder with a murderous glare. Unlike Schroeder, Mihaly wasn't about to be intimidated by a child, and he scowled with disapproval that rivaled Ionela's. Nobody said a word for several seconds.

"Is there something you need, child?" Mihaly asked her at last, briefly wondering just how long she'd been standing there.

She looked between the two of them before slowly answering. "No. Alma and I just needed the fresh air." Keeping her voice steady, she looked to Mihaly's plane and then continued speaking, trying to avoid looking at him, it would seem. "I take it things are going...well."

"Yes. Yes, they are. In fact, if things continue this way, Erusea will no doubt win the war," Mihaly answered, shooting for optimism but likely sounding a bit cocky in the eyes of some. In fact, he was starting to sound too much like Wit and Seymour. Noting the somewhat doubtful and depressed look on Ionela's face, Mihaly added in a slightly softer tone, "So, there's no reason for you to be so worried. I fully trust that Schroeder has done everything he can to ensure that this suit, unlike the others, won't fail."

Ionela's expression flickered with mistrust and disapproval as she turned her sharp gaze onto Schroeder, but it softened slightly and she looked back at Mihaly. For a moment, he wasn't sure if she was going to try and start another childish argument with him, and it seemed that Alma was bracing herself for just that. But to his surprise, a ghost of a smile appeared on her face. "I suppose you're right," she said, almost shocking him. She blinked, looking as though she was struggling to hold the expression. The faint smile faded and her lips formed nothing but a thin line as she searched for something else to say. "Still, you can never be too careful. I don't think Osea is going to be going easy, and we all saw what Three Strikes did to that submarine. What do you think is going to happen to anything or anyone else that tries to stand in her way?"

Mihaly resisted the urge to scoff. "Three Strikes may be skilled, but it's obvious she lacks proper control and discipline. I, however, am a seasoned pilot. We've been over this time and time again. The next time I face Three Strikes, I'm settling the score." The angered expression came back and Ionela was about to challenge her, but he cut her off. "And if you're naive enough to buy into the fear that the rest of Erusea has been spreading around then you're weaker willed and far more immature than I believed."

"I've said it once and I'll say it a million times over if that's what it takes to get it through your head: you're going to take this too far and you're going to get yourself killed," Ionela growled at him, clenching her fists. She looked accusingly over at Schroeder, raising her voice slightly. "And you're doing nothing but enabling him. You're both fools!"

"Ionela!" Mihaly snapped at her, using a tone he'd rarely ever taken with her. It caused Alma to flinch and Ionela to freeze, looking towards him as if silently challenging him to go on. Defiant child. At least he had her attention. He kept his voice stern as he spoke again. "You doubt me. I know you do. But I'm going to defeat Three Strikes and I'm going to finish what I started. I can promise you that much. But if you don't like that, then it's too bad. It's about time you grow up."

If she wanted to say anything to that, she didn't. Schroeder's assistant, Massa, approached the girls with a sympathetic look and said something to Ionela before ushering the two of them away. Once they were gone, Mihaly shook his head and Schroeder looked down at his feet. "I can't tell if she's angrier with you or me," he said, taking his glasses off to wipe the lenses. He slowly put them back on. "She resents this entire war, doesn't she?"

"I'd be lying if I said she's ever had decent stability in her life. Ionela's almost always been taking care of everyone else, be it her mother or sister or even me," Mihaly answered, watching as the three girls disappeared from sight. He turned his attention to the dark blue sky overhead, picking out a few stars. "Perhaps she has a point, but she's far too ignorant about wars to have any real understanding about why I have to fight. Or why I want to fight."

"Why are you so insistent to keep fighting?" Schroeder asked, trying to hide the curiosity in his voice. His tone was almost as challenging as Ionela's, in Mihaly's opinion. "Especially when there's obviously so much at stake."

Mihaly let out a dry chuckle, but he didn't answer Schroeder. Instead he decided to take his leave, wanting to be back with his own thoughts. There was a lot at stake, and he could see that as much as anyone else. But when you've lost as much as Mihaly, when there's almost nothing left for you but the freedom of the skies, and when that freedom is threatened...you do what you've always done. You fight. And you make sure that, if any day could be your last, you go down with honor. If Mihaly was left with no choice but to waste away on the ground or to die in the skies, then he was going to go with the second option.

I didn't come this far to give up. I'm not about to now.

|...|...|...|...|...|...|

Oured, Osea.
September 18th, 2019.
0800hrs.

David North sat in his apartment, drumming his fingers impatiently as he waited for his report to copy so he could finally get it sent in. Running on nothing but coffee and caffeinated tea for the last few days with minimal sleep had meant that he was now incapable of sitting still. It had been useful when he needed to type things, as it was productive, but now it was nothing more than pointless and frustrating fidgeting. It didn't help that his superiors had already planned out more work with him once he was finished up with the Alicorn report. He wished he was still working with the LRSSG, but if the rumor was true they were well on their way to the capital, as their original path had dictated. At least their work had a more exciting outcome.

A cool, early morning breeze blew in through his open window. Birds were singing and people were out walking and laughing and talking. Cars drove past and there was your usual morning, city traffic. David spared a moment to look out at the city around his apartment and managed a small smile. Hard to think that just a few days before, all of this was nearly wiped out. Everything felt like it was back to normal, but there was that pessimistic voice in the back of David's mind that reminded him that there was still a war raging just a continent over. Things weren't perfect yet, but he did have faith in Three Strikes. There was no doubt in his mind that she and Wiseman would lead Osea to victory.

Checking the status of his file, only at 60%, he turned towards the still ongoing game of chess he had set up. He hadn't had the time to finish it up, so he looked for a way to win the game for his preferred side. The side he'd used to represent Osea in his mental war game. That's really all chess was to begin with. As he reached forward to move one of the pieces, he jumped in his seat suddenly as an alarm that Alex had set for him went off. It took him a moment but he turned back to his computer and dismissed it, embarrassed that he'd been so startled when it was nothing.

"I'm good, Alex," he said with a relieved sigh, the chat between him and the AI popping up on screen. "I won't need that wake-up call every two hours anymore." Moving another file over to copy it down, he recalled what his superior had said to him over the phone and he couldn't help but mock the guy and rant to Alex. "I can't believe some of these guys...'David, only the summary is fine. Give me the report ASAP. I'll hand it to the president...'" David scoffed, scrolling through Alex's chat box to see just how far back the messages went. "Of course, that's why I haven't slept in the last like...eighty hours."

"74 hours and 52 minutes," Alex corrected with a chime, obviously not finished sassing him.

David rolled his eyes. Brat, he thought, but didn't voice this to her. "Okay..." he said, leaning back again with a groan. After a couple more minutes, all of the files were copied over to his hard-drive, but he still had some final additions to it. "Well, I'm almost done. Now, to the conclusion..." David spoke his thoughts aloud for Alex to hear, scrolling through his report and skimming it for any errors he'd made. When he found none, he decided to finish up. "Assuming Three Strikes is a singularity, why not terminate her?"

Unfortunately for Captain Foulke, many of those highest up the chain of command considered her a danger. A loose cannon. General Perrault in particular thought it was better to monitor her closely, and when word of what Brigadier General Clemens had done spread around, it caused some doubts. Many believed that — while he had betrayed his country and gone about it the wrong way — he had the right idea going. Some believed they should conduct a longer, more extensive trial for Foulke once the war ended, while others truly believed she was innocent and an asset to their military. So David had been given the extra task of reassuring the president that the captain truly was an important piece of a very large puzzle.

So he'd given Alex some work to do while he was busy writing. "There is a fact that has been observed in all of the missions Three Strikes has taken part in," she spoke at last, displaying the window for the simulation they'd put together. Several operations were listed, including ones that Three Strikes did not participate in. Each operation had a name, date, location, whether Captain Foulke participated, and the attrition rate during the operation. For emphasis, Alex had added several blue arrow heads to represent aircraft in a way that resembled the LRSSG's briefing screen, and during specific operations one or two would come to a halt instead of gliding on and would be x-ed out.

"And what's that?" David asked in response to her statement.

"All dependent elements that either mimic or follow the subject have increased chances of survival," Alex continued, as only three blue arrowheads remained at this point. They slowed down and maneuvered around one another like fighter jets would, allowing a green arrowhead to slip between them and take the lead. David assumed that this arrowhead was meant to represent Trigger, and the other three were her wingmates in Strider.

But he wasn't totally satisfied with the answer. He gave a small smile. "Try to be more sensuous," David reminded her.

The flight of the arrowheads returned to normal, Three Strikes gliding farther and faster as the blue ones were quick to follow. Alex's simulation showed the four arrowheads climbing higher into the 'sky', Trigger still showing the way, and the three blue arrowheads followed in perfect formation before more blue arrowheads appeared, joining the climb. The shape Alex had chose to put them in reminded David vaguely of the space elevator, though it was nothing more than a clever coincidence. Alex went on. "Go Trigger's way, you'll make it. She leads the way."

"Really?" David asked her, his smile widening a bit, though he furrowed his brow thoughtfully.

"Significance is high," Alex confirmed without missing a beat.

David closed the window with the simulation and stared at the photo he had of the scratches on the tail of Captain Foulke's plane. The Three Strikes that gave her that nickname to begin with. He stared at it for a moment, thinking. That did seem to be how the others viewed her, and David had no doubt that this would help in changing General Perrault's mind, as well as the others. It didn't worry him too much. Even if this didn't convince them, Three Strikes wasn't one to go down without a fight. And he knew that her wingmen wouldn't let anything happen to her, either. That loyalty and trust went both ways for them, something David had seen firsthand.

His smile turned to a grin and he gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head and turning his attention back to Alex. "You know, that's uncharacteristically illogical of you," he said in a teasing voice.

"Hehehe," came Alex's monotone laughter.

It caused David to let out a laugh of his own, almost feeling bad for her. "Is that really how you laugh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I think we're gonna have to work on that later."

To his surprise, Alex had nothing smart to say to that. Hopefully he wouldn't get much backtalk from her in the near future, not when they still had work to do. He took one last sip of his drink and set the mug down, tapping a finger on it absentmindedly before he let out a soft sigh and wrapped up his report. Once everything was finished and were almost finished copying over, David turned his chair towards his chess board and decided that he may as well wrap up his game while he waited.

He reached for the white piece that he'd dubbed as Three Strikes, bringing it towards him and rolling it in his hands a couple of times to look it over. It was the Queen, a piece you could see as the protector of the King, and an important piece on the board. An instant advantage, but one that few chose to risk. David chuckled, finding his symbolism predictable but fitting. In a few swift movements, he finished the game, placing the queen down in perfect attack position. The black king didn't even stand a chance. His grin from earlier returned. "Haha! Checkmate! And to think you said I'd never finish it."

"Congratulations." Alex didn't share in his enthusiasm, not that he expected her to.

David didn't let her bad mood sour his victory, though. He went ahead and put the pieces back in their proper places, resetting the board should he ever decide to play again in the near future. At last, the files finished, so he double-checked everything on his computer to make sure it was all saved before getting up from his seat. "Well, Alex, I'm gonna get some sleep while I can," he said as he rose to his feet, stretching for the first time in about twelve hours. "God, it feels so good to finally be out of that chair!"

He made his way over to his apartment window to shut it, pausing a moment to take in the view of the city below. Everything had a bright, gold shine to it, courtesy of the morning sun that continued to rise. David smiled fondly, vowing never again to take a morning like this for granted. Reluctantly, he slid his window shut and locked it, leaving the blinds open, and headed over to his computer, talking to Alex the whole way. "I'd get a break while you can. Can't believe they expect me to keep working, even after this."

Checking the time once more, he quickly tidied up his work area so he wouldn't have to later. "We got some new intel on Justice and they want me to go over the weaponry on the Arsenal Bird. Apparently they're worried Erusea made more modifications. Or they want me to keep investigating those Helios missiles." He scratched the side of his head and gave a frustrated huff. "Honestly, who even knows at this point. Nothing's ever gonna compare to these last few weeks..."

David looked down at the photo he had one last time. He'd never be able to repay the LRSSG for everything they'd done, but he hoped one day that he could try. Go Trigger's way, you'll make it. Satisfied with the conclusion, he closed the window with the picture and began to shut everything down. He cut off his desk lamp, his living room-office area now lit with nothing but natural light, and turned to walk away. As he reached his bedroom door, he called across the room, "Goodnight, Alex."

"Goodnight, David." With that, the chat closed, and his computer finished shutting down.

Well, back to the boring stuff. With that, David shut his bedroom door. Better to get some sleep while he could. Once he was well rested, then Perrault would get his report, but until then, it was his turn to take it easy.

|...|...|...|...|...|...|

Cape Rainy Air Base, Erusea.
1300hrs.

They were asked to report to the briefing early in the afternoon. The marines took over the heavy lifting, managing to hook up most of the heavier, immovable debris and drag it out with whatever trucks they brought with them. Or take the more theatrical route and airlift the damn things out. It made what Naomi and the others had gotten done look rather unimportant, even if they had done the bare minimum. Even so, Naomi's shoulders and arms were a bit sore from having to drag that crap around. Reminded her way too much of cleanup at Zapland. But that didn't matter, now. Not when they were this close to Farbanti.

When they entered the briefing room, Naomi could notice some changes that had been made to make the Erusean base seem more Osean. They'd already replaced the Erusean flag in the mess hall with an Osean one, and now it looked as though they'd rearranged the briefing room. Actually, most of the base had been fixed up. Osean soldiers were around, already falling into a normal work schedule in their new home. But the Erusean base was looking more and more like New Arrows, though chances were the base would probably be returned once the war was over.

Either way, the screen in the briefing room had been connected to Osea's system, now proudly displaying the LRSSG's emblem alongside their squadron emblems. The whiteboard had been cleared off now that they no longer had use for it. At the front of the room, Wiseman, Long Caster, and Hawkins were speaking with one another, beside the screen. Nearby, Naomi's father was speaking with Genette, Tailor, and Major Grimm. It took Naomi a moment to remember that Tailor and Grimm were cousins, but when Grimm playfully tousled Tailor's hair, she remembered rather quickly.

Several of Grimm's soldiers had already taken their seats towards the back of the room, so Naomi and the others picked out their own seats at the front like always. Lanza and Skald sat down beside one another, and Jaeger sat beside them. Fencer sat by Jaeger, leaving a seat open on his other side for Tailor to sit down at. Naomi sat down between Count and Tabloid as usual, with Húxiān sitting beside Count. Wiseman and the others acknowledged them with a nod shortly before Grimm sent Tailor over to them and joined in on the conversation between Wiseman and the others. Genette and Naomi's father followed him, sitting down beside Tabloid.

While they waited, everyone began their own conversations. Naomi noticed that Húxiān was rather quiet, and she seemed to have an uneasy look on her face. She leaned forward so she could see her friend more clearly, prompting Count to press back slightly and give the two of them a curious look. "Hey, Húxiān?" Naomi asked, getting her attention. "Is there something wrong? You've been kinda quiet these last few days, and now you look...kinda sick."

Húxiān squirmed in her seat, looking more uncomfortable now that Naomi had asked about it. Now Count and Tabloid had taken notice and were waiting for her answer. She frowned and reluctantly offered one. "It's nothing. I've just got a bad feeling, y'know? Like something isn't right." Húxiān chuckled awkwardly when no one said anything right away. "It's stupid, I know, but I can't help but feeling like we've just sent Bandog and Avril off into a death sentence. And then with this upcoming operation in Farbanti...I don't know. It all just rubs me the wrong way."

Count scoffed, a small smirk on his face as usual. "You women worry too much," he said, seeming amused by Húxiān's concern. "There's no way Erusea is gonna be able to hold us off for much longer. Once their capital falls, this whole damned war is ours. You watch. This'll all be over by next week, then Avril and Bandog will both be back safe and sound. I don't even get why you're so worried about the guy, Húxiān. I know I'm not."

"He ain't the easiest person to get along with, but he's a better man than you give him credit for," Húxiān said defensively, crossing her arms. She gave him a cold look. "A lot better than you, that's for sure."

"You shouldn't be so cocky, Count," Tabloid added in a far nicer tone than Húxiān had been using. "We don't want to jinx it, and knowing our luck...well, let's just say that Húxiān makes a fair point. Things can change in an instant."

"He's right, Count. I think I'm gonna have to take their side this time," Naomi said, patting his shoulder and giving him a sympathetic smile. She struggled with over confidence more often than not, but she had to play the level-headed leader once in a while. Otherwise she might make Wiseman second guess his decision to put her in charge of Strider...again. Usually she might have agreed with Count, but he was getting a bit too cocky, even for him.

"Whatever you guys say," Count said, rolling his eyes. "I'm just ready for this mission to be over already. I'm dying for a break."

To everyone's surprise, Tailor joined the conversation. He sat with a saddened look on his face, even though he wouldn't be taking part in the operation. "I know what you're saying. Even if this was the plan from the start, I can't help but wish there was another way."

Jaeger joined in. "You're telling me. Farbanti is a very beautiful city, though it's been through so much in the last few years. An entire district was sunken in an asteroid hit, not to mention they still have some damage from the last war they went through. Other than that, it's truly an amazing place. It's a shame that we have to take it like this, though I can't say that Erusea hasn't forced our hand. If their generals weren't so stubborn, negotiations might have gone much better."

"I think Tailor's just worried about that crush of his," Fencer said, elbowing him playfully. Tailor sent him a dirty look, but for once Fencer didn't continue harassing him. "Relax, kid. I'm pretty sure that they've evacuated the city, and the princess along with it. There's no reason to put people with no involvement in the fighting in danger. Even the idiots that run Erusea's government could see that."

"I'm not worried about that. I know they probably evacuated everyone that they could, and women and children are always the first to go," Tailor said, adjusting himself in his seat with a somewhat annoyed look on his face. "Still, we all know that the people of Erusea have a stubborn streak. Maybe it's just a stereotype, but most of these people have probably been through far worse than this. They're not likely to just run away. Not without putting up a fight."

"I'm pretty sure they've learned from past experiences by now. They may put up a fight, but they won't risk their own lives if they know there's no chance," Skald spoke up, a small smile on his face as he made an attempt to put Tailor's mind at ease. "Nobody would be foolish enough to do that."

"He's right. Everyone that isn't military is probably long gone from the capital at this point. There's nothing to be worried about," Lanza put in. Although everyone else seemed to agree with him, Naomi still couldn't shake a bit of concern for anybody that wasn't involved in the fighting. Assuming some people didn't evacuate, they ran the risk of getting caught in the crossfires. And assuming they did, which was the most likely, the chances they'd have much of a home left to return to once this was all over weren't looking very good. No one else seemed worried, aside from Tabloid, but if they were then they hid it very well.

Their conversation was cut short as the screen now displayed the map they were so used to seeing. It was Wiseman that got their attention first, raising his voice slightly to sound more commanding than usual. "Alright, everyone. Settle down and listen up! I'm sure you all know what this is about by now, but just in case you're unaware, our operation to capture the Erusean capital of Farbanti is going underway. Osean forces are getting into position tonight, and the attack will begin tomorrow. We'll be moving to an IUN base near the edge of Erusean territory and joining shortly after the operation commences."

"This is the culmination of all of your hard work," Hawkins said, stepping in. The screen centered on Farbanti, showing several different directions that Osea would be attacking from. Hawkins stepped up to the screen, pointing them out and tracing along each line. "We need to capture the Erusean Force's General Headquarters in the south of Farbanti to end this war. Many of their higher ranking officers and even the King are remaining in the capital and giving instructions to their forces. If we can, we want to gain as much leverage in negotiations as possible and capture whoever we can. Realistically, it won't be an easy task, but that's up to our ground forces, which will be led by Major Grimm. I believe many of you are familiar with him already. Jacob?"

Grimm nodded as he was addressed by Hawkins, stepping forward. "The plan is for ground troops to attack Farbanti from both east and north, and a task fleet will attack from the southwest. Our intel leads us to believe that Erusea is positioning their military around the sunken district and outside of their shipyard, directly along the coast. Recon photos show that they've set up anti-air weaponry on top of buildings downtown and hidden throughout the rest of the city, so everyone will need to keep a sharp eye out. My men and I are going to try and take out what we can, but we'll have other priorities as well."

It was Wiseman that spoke up next, several blue and red arrowheads appearing on the screen. "Our job will be to secure air superiority over the capital, while simultaneously providing air support for our allies on the ground as well as in the water as required. By all accounts, we're expecting this to be an intense full-scale battle across land, air, and sea," he said to them as a grid of the area of operations was now shown, the line to the north highlighted with blue as the screen rotated around to it. Wiseman was quick to point this out to them, though they already knew what it was. "Because of the scale of the operation, we've set up a return line for you to make good use of and resupply, as well as get any necessary, quick repairs done."

"Another thing...during this operation, we will also be tasked with having to destroy the communications satellites that Erusea hacked when the war started," Hawkins added quickly, nodding to Long Caster. The screen zoomed out to show the entire Usean continent, showing the orbit of the hacked satellites as well as the ones Osea still had control over.

A few of them muttered something to one another about that, but it was Tabloid that broke the silence. "It's taken you guys this long to get around to that? We've made it this far, what good is it going to accomplish now?"

Although Tabloid's tone indicated a mild challenge with his words, Hawkins gave a short nod and explained without any hesitation. "If we take down the information communication system that we believe Erusea has taken control over, it should plunge Erusea into chaos. Once the capital falls, the Erusean military will be isolated and confused, stuck directly in the center of that chaos, making it easier for us to end the war." Hawkins sighed as he looked over the map. "That's the idea, anyways."

"However, that can't happen until after the capital falls. So we're gonna be the stars of this battle," Wiseman said, a small smile on his face. His eyes had a spark in them, one that told Naomi he was itching to get back in the action, having sat so many operations out.

"Erusea will fight like a tiger, but we can't lose. We're going to push back twice as hard," Grimm said, looking over the LRSSG pilots as well as his own men. "We're gonna seize the capital, and put an end to this war once and for all."

This prompted several shouts and whoops of agreement from those sitting in the room, which in turn gave their superiors a reason to smile. When it died down, Hawkins nodded for Long Caster to pull up the roster and he did. "Cyclops, Strider, here's your formation for the op. We're heading out to the IUN base tonight, so everyone be prepared. Good luck out there tomorrow. To all of you."

With a nod to everyone and nothing else to say, Hawkins took his leave. Everyone stood up, stretching and chattering, preparing to leave, but Grimm stopped them all before they had the idea. "Hold on just a moment. There's one more thing I want to tell everyone," he said quickly, looking towards Long Caster and Wiseman. Naomi wondered why Hawkins didn't just stick around and tell them, whatever it was, but Grimm was nice enough to wrap it up quickly. "We checked out the transports that Erusea had here on the base, and it turns out they were carrying weaponry for the remaining Arsenal Bird. Now, I can't say anything for sure, but it looks like burst missiles. Helios missiles, I believe they're called. This means that, knowing Erusea, if all else fails...they're going to bring out that monster. So everyone needs to keep their guard up."

"After we shot that last one to shreds?" Húxiān asked with a scoff. "They'd have to be stupid to send the other one out!"

"Yeah, I agree," Fencer chimed in, a thoughtful look on his face. "There's no way they'd bring the other one in and risk it...even if we did have Stonehenge on our side the last time, that doesn't mean that we can't do some damage to it."

"I'm not saying they're going to send it in. I'm just saying that, from here on out, we should start preparing for everything. Erusea is going to get desperate, and sooner or later, they're going to fight back even harder than they have been. Nobody needs to let their guard down," Grimm said in a serious tone, a stern look on his face. No one argued, as they understood the point he was making. Naomi already figured they'd fight back before long, but they must have been getting that Arsenal Bird ready for some time. They had something planned, even if it wasn't immediate. Grimm cleared his throat. "Anyways, that's all for the rest of you."

With Fencer mumbling something under his breath, they started to head for the door. However, Naomi was stopped, this time by Wiseman calling her back. "Hang on, Trigger. We've got something just for you...and I think you'll find it pretty interesting." Naomi turned to look at him with a confused expression, but she didn't say anything. Count and Tabloid stopped, followed by Jaeger and then the others. When he realized he'd gotten the others attention, he gave a small laugh. "The rest of you can stay as well, if you want to."

"What's this about?" Naomi asked him, crossing the room so she could stand beside him. By now all of Major Grimm's men had cleared out, and it was just the LRSSG pilots, Grimm, Naomi's father, and Genette that remained. She actually felt a bit nervous, sensing a lecture coming for some reason. With Count and the rest of her wingmates staying behind, she couldn't help but fear for the worst. Carefully, she came to a stop in front of her commander and slowly asked, "I'm not in any trouble or something, am I?"

"No, it's nothing like that." It was Long Caster that spoke up, promptly passing a file over to Wiseman. "You remember Mr. X, right?"

This got everyone's attention, and the others quickly chose to stay behind and listen up. Naomi's eyes flicked to her father briefly, nervous and wondering if he knew about this, then she looked back at Wiseman. She hadn't thought about the guy in a while, having more pressing matters to worry about. Not only that, but he'd been staying out of their way. Still, it was hard to forget the guy. She shuddered a bit as she recalled her previous two encounters with him. "Kind of hard not to remember."

Count came up next to her, Tabloid beside him, and he brushed his hand against hers in an almost comforting way. She wanted to grab his hand so she had something to hold onto, both of them knowing how much Mr. X bothered her, but she didn't. And she didn't get a chance to. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, glancing at the file and then at Wiseman. "Yeah, after seeing what that monster did at Yinshi Valley? It's damn near impossible to forget him. Why bring him up now?"

"Well, we went through the files in the Erusean base commander's office and found something on an experimental squadron or something like that," Wiseman explained quickly, looking down at the file. He looked as though he was trying to decide whether or not to open it or not. Or let her do it. His eyes flicked up to her, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, gesturing with the file. "Anyways, we looked through it and even asked the Eruseans about it. Unfortunately, this is all we have, but it's still intriguing. Take a look."

He passed it over to her, and Naomi hesitated before she slowly opened the file, setting it down on the table in the room so the others could take a look if they wanted. It looked to be a very short file, only about five or six pages long. The first page showed a couple of photos with a summary below it. Naomi looked the photo over, and the first image was of five Su-30s lined up on what looked like a makeshift runway set up on...well, Naomi couldn't tell what it was. And that wasn't what she cared about. What she was focused on was the livery of one of the planes, and she could tell that the others recognized these planes as well.

Four of the planes were dark gray with standard Erusean markings. The fifth plane was the same dark gray, but the tail and his wingtips were painted orange. That was, without a doubt, the same plane that she'd fought over Yinshi Valley. The same one that the pilot that killed Brownie had flown. That was Mr. X's plane. Beside the image of the planes, there was a closeup of the emblem clipped to the corner with a paper clip. An odd emblem...it looked like the sun, but one of the weirder depictions of it, shown with a face over it. The squadron name was under it. 68th Experimental Squadron Sol.

She furrowed her brow and skimmed the rest of the page. "Sol Squadron?" Naomi scoffed, looking up at Wiseman. "They're the ones that have been giving us so much trouble?"

"Yep, that's them alright," Tabloid said, looking down at the photo. He put on a thoughtful expression, placing a finger on the picture over over the dark gray planes and tapping slightly. "I remember those guys. Count and I went up against them...damn, they were good."

"Nothing compared to that Mr. X, but they were close," Count said, reading over the description of the squadron. "They don't have a lot of information on them, do they? 'Formed at the onset of the war to support the EAF's top pilot...highly skilled, specially trained...'" He read some of it aloud, then shook his head, looking up at Wiseman. "Pfft. That's nothing. I could have told you half of that. Don't we have anything on them that we could use to our advantage?"

"Take a look at the other pages," Naomi's father said to them, crossing his arms. Genette was still standing beside him, keeping quiet and listening intently. Her father nodded to urge her to do it, offering a reason for them to as well. "They have the squadron members' ID photos and a photo of all of them together, and a brief assessment of everyone in it, including their leader. Then there's a report about the squadron's capabilities, and a report from some scientist or something, but...most of it was redacted. We could only read a few short sentences mentioning the squadron and G-suits or something like that."

"That's odd," Jaeger said, taking a few steps closer so he could see as well, the others staying quiet and listening. Tabloid took a step back so Jaeger had room, and the older pilot gave him a grateful smile before his expression went serious again. "I heard from some of the marines that the Eruseans we captured the other night were making a fuss about an experimental squadron...if Mr. X is a member of it then I can understand why. Still, you'd think Erusea would keep more intel on them, unless they were worried something like this might happen."

"Wait, don't we have contacts that could get us this intel?" Skald asked suddenly, looking to Wiseman. "Or, at least more of it?"

Lanza put on the same curious expression that his best friend had. "Yeah, he's right. I mean, it can't be that hard to dig up some stuff. Erusea's been doing it for months now."

"If we'd thought to do it sooner, then maybe we could've," Long Caster said with a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair. "But it's too late now. Once we knock out Erusea's satellites, there's no way we can ensure that any information we get from over on their side is truly safe and secure."

"He makes a good point," Húxiān observed with a shrug, seeming rather disinterested in the whole thing. "Besides, what does it matter at this point anyways? It's not like it's gonna do us much good if all of this'll be over in a few days."

Naomi looked up and around at the rest of her wingmen, then back down at the file. She hesitated for just a moment, seeing the point that Húxiān made. But she at least wanted to put a face to whatever monster had gunned down Brownie and Champ and those other LRSSG pilots. Before she could change her mind, she flipped the page and unclipped the photos attached at the top of it. Their names looked to be lined up in the roster on the file, or at least their ranks and last names.

The group photo of the squadron was an interesting one. They stood in front of their planes, but there were six of them in the photo. Five of them were clearly pilots, but the last one was a man in a lab coat. He looked to be a scientist. The pilots in the photo drew her interest quickly once she noticed the patches on their arms. They may be Erusean pilots, but they didn't wear any Erusean patches on their flight suits. The only thing even remotely Erusean was their squadron emblem. Four of the pilots were all clearly much younger than the man that Naomi assumed was their squadron leader. Two had blond hair and bright eyes, though she couldn't tell what color. The others had dark hair, one looking cheerful and the other looking as though he had to force a smile.

However, Naomi focused on the assumed leader in the photo. He was quite clearly the oldest of the group, his hair thinning and almost completely white. In the photo, he stood at the center of the group, and unlike the others he didn't smile at all. Even the serious scientist looking guy had the slightest hint of a smile, but this guy just had a stone cold look on his face. A long scar ran down the side of his face and he looked menacing. From the looks of things, he'd seen a lot of combat. There was no way he hadn't fought before. Not looking like that.

She flicked through their ID photos, and the guy didn't even smile for that. He looked menacing, perhaps stoic...but she didn't know enough about him to make a judgement like that. Naomi tossed the photos down for everyone to see, not wanting to stare at their faces any longer. They scattered slightly, but everyone could still see them clearly. Count examined the group photo, carefully picking it up before he passed it to Tabloid. Naomi was barely paying attention, too busy glancing over the rest of the file.

The squadron's roster was all that was left. The one that drew her attention immediately was the very first name. Gen. Mihaly 'Archange' Shilage. Her eyes flicked up and over to the photo that Jaeger was now looking over, focusing on the older man in the picture. She flicked through the ID photos and came across the same man, checking the back of the photo for any writing or cue of who it was. But even without the name, this guy was the only one old enough to have made general. Unless the other pilots in the squadron had somehow made the rank that young, but they barely looked much older than Count. Hell, one of them had to have been nearer to Tailor's age. They were skilled, though, from what little she'd seen.

"Does the name Shilage sound familiar to anyone? Or Archange?" Naomi asked them, pointing out the name.

"Well, archange is Erusean for archangel," Tailor, who had been silent up until this point, said as he approached them. He furrowed his brow and looked over the names. "But none of the others' TAC names sound Erusean. None of their real names either." He gave a soft chuckle, almost as if he found it amusing. Everyone looked at him questioningly, but he paid them no mind, voicing his thoughts without hesitation. "Heh. That's actually a really cool name. Wonder what he did to get it..."

"Not a clue. Does it really matter?" Fencer asked, looking as though he was getting impatient standing there but he obviously still wanted to be involved. "I mean, the guy has done nothing but cause trouble for us since this war started. The guy chased us from the Hatties Desert all the way to Yinshi Valley, all to make sure that we didn't accomplish whatever we set out to do. Maybe that's how he got it...he's some sort of guardian angel. Hell if I know."

Suddenly, Jaeger seemed to tense up as a look of recognition. "Shilage...Shilage...I recognize that name! It was a small nation that was annexed by Erusea shortly after the reigning family was overthrown. I believe the heir to the title had been in the military for some time when it happened, then there was a bit of a fuss when he'd gone into service for the Erusean Air Force after Shilage became a state in Erusea...had his family not been overthrown."

"Reigning family?" Count echoed, scoffing ever so slightly. "What were they, a monarchy?"

Jaeger paused. "No...no, I believe they were a duchy...yes, that's right. The Grand Duchy of Shilage...I'd have to go back and look it up, but I remember that the story brought about an international interest. Mihaly Shilage was a great pilot, having served in a couple of wars prior to the revolution that brought about his family's fall. I think he became an instructor at the EAF Academy. And that's right! He disappeared from service after the first Continental War." He took a moment to think, everyone looking at him expectantly. "I remember the story, now! There were some similarities, but I never could have guessed...he'd have to be pushing seventy-something at this point...I can't believe I didn't think about it sooner."

"What're you talkin' about?" Húxiān asked, shaking her head. There was a hint of concern, as if she wasn't used to seeing Jaeger act like this.

He looked up at her, looking as though he was trying to think through his words carefully, but he didn't answer. It was Naomi's father that answered first, crossing his arms. "General Shilage is indeed the 'Mr. X' that you've faced time and time again. He's also a legendary ace pilot, and one that's shot down many. I heard stories from pilots that had been unlucky enough to encounter him, though they never engaged. They had to run, and their wingmen tried to hold him off." Her father paused, taking a deep breath before he continued. "He treated them like prey, exhausting them and then moving in for the kill. That's how he got the name of King of the Skies. No one could come close to matching him, and only two people have ever survived a fight against him. And only a select few come close to his skill level."

Naomi swallowed, already knowing who one of those people was. But who were the others? She reached for the photo of Sol Squadron and Jaeger passed it over to her. Without looking up from it, she asked, "And just who are you referring to?"

"Well, one of the people to survive a fight against him was one of his own pupils. A pilot they called 13," her father answered without hesitation. "No one really knows much about him beyond that, just that he was Shilage's star pupil and his only equal for some time. They even fought side by side during a few small dogfights and from what I heard from some Erusean pilots I met during my...travels...they were very close. Almost like father and son."

"And I think we all know who the second pilot to face him was," Wiseman said slowly, and Naomi looked up at him. He had a blank expression, but his eyes showed some sort of understanding. He sighed and leaned forward. "Look, Trigger. We've all got something personal with this guy, but if he shows up, I don't want you to do anything stupid. I only wanted to show you this so you knew exactly who you might be facing. And so the rest of you understand that he didn't get the name King of the Skies for nothing."

Naomi tossed the picture down again and crossed her arms. "With all due respect, Wiseman...King of the Skies or not, if I have the chance I'm not going to let him get away. I don't care what his name is, I'm not going to lose anyone else if I can help it."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Wiseman said, looking down as though he was disappointed in her. But suddenly, he laughed and looked to her, and then to her father who was fighting off a smile of his own. "You were right. Still stubborn." To her surprise, though, he rose to his feet and walked over to where she was standing. Count, Tabloid, and Jaeger stepped aside as he approached them. When he reached her, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle pat. "If you have no choice, then do whatever you have to. Just make sure you bring your guys back safely."

She blinked, expecting more of a lecture from him but she was almost pleasantly surprised by his reaction. Still, there was one thing wrong with what he said. "I thought you said..."

He interrupted her before she could finish. "I'd say you've earned the right to call Strider your squadron." Naomi grinned when he said this and glanced at Count and Tabloid, and they both gave her matching smiles. Even Jaeger looked a bit proud of her. Wiseman gave her a pointed look, though. "Just don't do anything to make me regret saying that. There's still another battle to get through, and I don't want any of you to lose your cool. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Naomi answered promptly through her smile, hearing the others sound off after her.

"Perfect!" Wiseman said, giving her another pat on the shoulder and setting off for the door. He looked over his shoulder at them, opening the door and stepping aside. "Now c'mon, let's get moving. We've got a war to end!"

The others followed, but Naomi paused and looked back at her father and studied the expression on his face. He and Genette were both smiling, and Naomi knew that she'd see them both at the base later that day. But something about his story...something about what he said sounded like he knew more than he was letting on. After knowing how much they'd hidden from her for her entire life, there was no telling what other secrets there were. And if he was holding back, she wanted to know why. But now wasn't the time, as he quickly reminded her.

Naomi's father nodded to the door with a light laugh. "You heard the man. You've got a war to end, so how about you get going?"

"Right. See you guys later." Naomi turned to follow her wingmates, bidding Long Caster, Major Grimm, Genette, and her father farewell with a quick wave. She could worry about what her father wasn't telling her later. Right now, she needed to focus and mentally prepare herself for what was coming. She didn't know if she'd be meeting Mr. X in the skies again, but Naomi meant what she had said. King of the Skies or not, if he attacked her friends and wingmen, she was going to retaliate.

Whatever happened, whatever it was going to take, she'd finish what he started. Time to see what Erusea was made of.