Waves.
The sounds of crashing waves upon the shore awake me. I slowly open my right eye to see…Beach and ocean, the sun setting in the west. Casting a fiery rose and orange color across the sky. The sun blocked by a forest of trees, from my perspective it looks like I somehow managed to crash-land in the silver of beach in-between the ocean and the forest.
Some sparks catch my attention, I look down upon the cockpit of my jet that was shot down…For who knows for how long ago.
"Hold the sky! We can't let them pass!"
"Rose 3 wat-"
"The Ghosts of Razgriz are here!"
'The Ghosts of Razgriz. Once human, now ghosts of their former demons. HQ told me to shoot down these ghosts. I tried and immediately regretted it, didn't even get a lock on before…well…'
I shake my head to clear it and found that it wasn't in the greatest condition to do so.
"Ow, ow, ow, that kinda stings a bit." I winced at the pain at the side of my head and neck.
I take a closer scan at the instruments and controls of my fighter; sparks here and there, blood coverings, screens broken beyond repair, the list goes on. And speaking of blood…
My left arm feels very heavy as I lift it up to inspect it; a couple gashes, nicks, marks and scratches crisscross all along the arm. I lift up my right arm to inspect it; some glass sticking out and some dark bruises, not as bad as my left but still pretty banged up.
A soft breeze lets me know that the glass to the cockpit is no longer in one piece. I can't feel or move my legs, so that probably either means that:
One: I am paralyzed from the waist down.
Two: Something that I can't see is cutting off the blood circulation, either on the outside or inside my body.
'All my life I was told that the supernatural doesn't exist. And look at where it's gotten me too. Shot down by the "supposedly" Ghosts of Razgriz themselves and quite possibly bleeding out to death…Well at least I have an awesome sunset on a beach, smelling that ocean breeze once more. Now all I need now is a glass bottle of Coke and I'm all good.'
I don't bother to look down at my legs. I don't what to possibly see half of me gone and scar myself one more time before I die.
"Sir we're sinking! Missile hit on the starboard side where the ammo is kept!"
"Keep firing! We'll drag these demons back down to hell where they belong!"
'Actually now that I think about it, maybe being shot down was a good thing…'
"Stop firing and look around you! Death! Death! And nothing but Death is all around you! IS THIS HOW YOU WHAT TO LIVE!?"
"The seven pillars of Belka…Wait, you don't mean-!?"
I again shake my head just a bit lighter than last time to clear out my thoughts of the past battle. 'Maybe if I just tried harder to talk to them then I wo-…'
'No.'
'Enough is enough. I'm done with that war…Maybe. Time to start anew?'
"Ug!"
Blood then starts coming up and out of my mouth.
'So. This is it.'
My head falls back onto the seat to rest upon it and look upwards towards my second home: The Skies.
It was at this point that the fighter pilot zones out to reflect on the rest of his short but great life, so zoned out that he fails to notice four pairs of feet moving towards the heavily damaged craft.
One pair was swifter then the others, followed by a smell of roses.
The second pair is light and graceful, but with caution like walking over thin ice.
The third pair was by far the quietest of the four, but also ready to move with grace and accuracy of a feline.
And finally the fourth pair of boots where the loudest of the four, ready to shoot, move and hit hard at a moment's notice.
The swift one immediately went to check on the critically wounded fighter pilot. The light pair stops and starts tapping its foot; in the way that someone would do when making a rushed call.
The quiet pair was scouting out the damaged craft to see if it belonged to any military or armed force. And the loudest pair moved to where the swift one went; to the cockpit.
They lift up the visor to only see that the pilot has closed his eyes for what is the last time.
They looked at each other and nodded. They will not leave this man to his fate that he's accepted; it will not happen.
The strong on starts looking as to where what strap goes where and what unblocks what. The swift one calls over the quite one to cut the straps that hold the pilot to his seat. After cutting off the straps the strong one catches the young male fighter pilot as he falls forward and slowly and carefully lifts him out of his jet.
All four look to the sky as a transporter comes around to them to pick up both them from their own mission and the unexpected guest.
The strong one puts its ear over his heart, nothing.
No pulse. No pumping. Deathly Silence.
As the strong one put-
"I hear a pulse!" The yell is definite female, from the quiet one out of all of them. And she was right; as the strong one was putting him down she managed to hear his very weak heartbeat.
The strong one immediately re-lifts him up and out of the cockpit and carries him bridal style while the quiet one holds up his head as they move to the transporter. They all move with haste but also with care, not to damage him any further then what he already has as they boarded the transporter and let the medical team do their job.
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Thirty lifelong minutes pass, each second feels like an hour and a minute feels likes an eternity. They waited for the news.
The light green walls of the hospital waiting room do little to ease their heavily worried minds, nor does the calming sounds of a simple tune of a piano being played through the intercom.
Each time a doctor or a nurse walked through the double doors, four heads whipped up to see if that one has the news that will either make them have wonderful dreams…or vivid nightmares; for many mouths come to pass.
As minutes turn into hours the four heads turn into eight, occasionally ten.
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Eight has now turned to three heads.
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22:39.
Val's General Hospital.
"Twelve hours, is a long night…When you're searching, with no hope in sight."
"Please turn that off."
"Aim-"
"Thank you Jaune."
"Hey Jaune, why are you st-"
"Yang asked me to."
"hm."
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The sounds of someone tearing up begin to come from the leader in red.
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"Hey Rubes, Weiss; You've brought him back in one piece at least. He still has a chance."
The sounds of sniffing stop for just a moment as she starts to process what Jaune said.
"Yeah, you're right Jaune. Thank you." "Anytime Ruby."
The double doors once again open up with no ne-
"Does one of you three happen to be Miss, Ruby Rose?" A nurse says.
Ruby Rose immediately stands up. "Me!"
The nurse looks at her and pulls something from her pocket and hands it to Ruby. She lets the nurse put the thing in her hands to look at it.
In Ruby's hands lay two slightly worn and bloody tags connected by a chain.
Rook Rosado. A POS
666-027-8492
U.A.F.
No Religious belf.
That is what the tags say.
"W-What are these?"
"Dog tags, used to ID the warriors on the battlefield…"
Weiss subconsciously puts her left hand to cover her mouth in shock while Ruby's world shatters into millions of pieces.
Jaune looks to the nurse. "Why to her?"
"While it may be a coincidence but he did mumble out one word during the entire operation: Rose. And seeing that he has no family that we can trace or find…We thought it would be best to give these to the team that was with him in his final moments."
"Wait…So you mean.." Jaune trailed off.
"He was already gone by the time the operation began. I'm sorry."
Silence fills the room.
The world just turns into grey shades, for a red leader. Everything was numb, cold, colorless, and lost.
For a little red reaper the world has stopped spinning. Everything was grey, now going black…
Jaune catches her and puts her on his back.
"I'm sorry. I re-" "We know. You did your best; it was just too much this time."
And with those words, Jaune with ruby on his back out cold and Weiss next to him walked out of the waiting room and into the muggy night.
After the trio left the waiting room the nurse finally gives in; her knees fall to the floor and she starts to openly weep.
The real reason why it took so long to give the news was to find if he has any living blood or half-blood family. They found nothing, absolutely nothing. Neither dead or alive.
Nothing is more horrible then to die all alone, with no friends, and no family. Nothing to solely remember him by, other than two small little tags.
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Footsteps rapidly hurry down the empty halls.
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A crying leader is tucked into bed by a knight and a brawler.
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A sudden rainstorm starts pouring down.
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Silence. Nothing but silence in the operation room where he lay. Still, cold, colorless, and lifeless.
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Beep. . .
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Beep. . .Beep. . .
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A still attached heart monitor begins to beep when it shouldn't to a deceased patient.
"The hell?" Two doctors that where packing up in the room stopped what their where doing and slowly turned to the heart monitor that was…beeping?
"But hasn't this patient been dead for over Six hours?" Doctor Greenwall perplexed.
Beep. . .
Beep. . .
Beep. . .
Beep. . .
Beep. . .
Beep. . .