This came to be in a dream.
<<Heartbreak Three here... Looks like that's the last of them.>>
She looked down, her F/C-15 on a wide, banking orbit around what used to be the biggest Cordium Dust mine in Vale. Now, it was the biggest scrapyard in the continent; processing units wrecked, storage silos destroyed, extractors sinking into the lakes of molten rock from which the substance was mined.
The raid had been successful beyond her wildest expectations; Dust Mother,
all the raids had gone off far better than she'd thought. They'd knocked out a
massive the Federation's Corium production, a blow which must be
crippling their war machine.
And yet, why didn't she... why
couldn't she feel any satisfaction from it?
A laugh over the radio.
<<Man, that was easy Black!>>
Blake Belladona, formerly of the Valean Airforce,
currently of the Sicario Mercenary Corps, always,
always, of the Faunus felt her feline ears twitch under her helmet. Clearly, not everyone was having the same second thoughts she was.
<<You always say that, Burn.>>
<<That's 'cuz it always is. Buncha rookie pilots without a single aura between them.>>
The almost-
feral grin on her face had bloomed the moment the guns on her
Accipiter had first spoken on this hunt, and it had stayed there since. It was her favourite part of her new life as a flying mercenary; the white-hot rush adrenaline, the roar of autocannons, the way her gorgeous
Bumblebee was an extension of her self, the slow ground-attack plane quickly turning the tables on whoever thought it an easy target.
The
satisfaction of a clear sky. Only the strongest and the quickest ruled, here.
In the back of her head, the raid reminded her of those her mother had brought her along for. Except that now she had
much better company than her mother's tribe of bandits, and the pay was much,
much better. And the targets were much more...
deserving.
Yang Xiao Long-Branwen shook her head, banishing the dark thoughts from her head. Looking forwards, she reached out and straightened a photograph she'd stuck to the instrument panel; the last remnant of better times. The echo of what might've been.
A sigh crackled over the radio.
<<And now you've just jinxed us, Burn.>>
A chuckle escaped Yang's throat.
<<Ah, calm your non-existent tits, White. I can smell my payday already!>>
<<Are you sure those aren't just fumes from that bucket of bolts you insist on flying, Burn?>>
<<I'll have you know that ol' Bumblebee's the best plane in the air right now.>>
<<Burn, this is Black, I'm seeing smoke.>>
<<WHAT!? WHERE!?>>
She left Yang to figure out which part of her plane-shaped maintenance problem was actually damaged and instead kept a slow, sweeping orbit around the battlespace, one eye on the radar of the MG-29. The radar set fitted to the air-superiority fighter wasn't, she'd admit, the best, and AWACS Rogue would pick anything up
ages before she did, but... it never hurt to be vigilant.
Though she'd never say it out loud, she agreed with Yang; this had been an
easy job, all things considered, and even the surprise of a
205-class air battleship accompanying them handn't been enough sway the battle. Not when Sicario had a whole squadron with their auras and semblances unlocked. It was almost
unfair.
Whatever. A job was a job and --whatever faults she had-- she'd never give anything but her
best showing, no matter what she did. It's how it had
always been; it's how she'd gone from being a caged songbird to
here.
Weiss Schnee had
earned her wings, and she'd
earned her freedom.
<<Dust Mother-Damnint Black, where's the smoke!?>>
<<Five klicks to your port, Burn.>>
A pause. Weiss could almost
hear the smile on Blake's face.
<<... Oh, when we get back you'd better start run-.>>
<<Ladies,>> AWACS Rogue's smooth, I-can't-believe-I-must-work-with-these-
idiots voice interrupted whatever Yang was about to say.
<<As much as I hate to interrupt your rambling, I'm afraid we've got company.>>
Yang laughed.
<<Awww, looks like someone's late to the party! Come on, I've still got some->>
<<Crimson Squadron's on station. Is this them? The mercenaries?>>
The young --almost
too young-- voice coming in over the open channel made Yang's words die in her throat. A shudder went down Weiss's spine.
Her mother had been a hero. The
White Rose of the Federation, who'd cleansed the skies of Menagerie and destroyed the Mercenary Cabal... at the cost of her own life. She'd been almost too young to remember her, of course and... it had been hard, growing up in her shadow. Everything she did would remind her teachers or her tutors or her instructors or her superiors of mother, and everyone always seemed to be comparing the Elder Rose with the Younger, even if they didn't
mean to do it.
It had been hard... but she'd never been the sort to give up. Always running towards danger, rather than away from it. Never content with sitting still.
So she'd signed on to the Federation Airforce, and worked her
butt off. The youngest to complete pilot certification, the youngest pilot to lead a squadron, the youngest Ace in Federation history...
And then Ruby Rose had finally earned something her mother had never gotten;
Peacekeeper. The tip of the spear of the Federation. The best of the best of the
best.
She'd escaped the shadow.
She touched the rose emblem pinned to her flight suit. Her radar chirped, and she keyed her mike.
<<Crimson Squadron's on station. Is this them? The mercenaries?>>
Ruby couldn't keep the hiss of disdain from her voice.
<<Affirmative. Drive these Mercenaries out of the airspace, Crimson One.>>
She pouted under her helmet --what she would
give for a few more pounds of fuel and a load of missiles!-- but conceded that they were pushing things as it were. Oh well...
<<Roger that.>> She smiled, hearing the missile tone growl in her headset.
<<Tally-ho, Crimson team; let's chase these dogs off!>>
As one, Crimson team dived towards the dogs that
dared sully her airspace.
No you're not getting more unless someone
else continues this.