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Chp. 7: Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman

January 28, 2024

Brighthill, Osea

President Reyes looked unconvinced that this entire affair had resolved this way. It also seemed as if the Veruseans had suddenly lost interest and was now throwing in the towel. Sure, there had been plenty of international pressure, but he'd expected them to have been a bit more resistant. Instead they'd simply backed away with the declaration that they were doing this to be the better man ("Peace is more important for the world rather than war" the Verusean ambassador to the UN had declared) and that Yuktobania and Osea had tried to start a war. Either way, Yuktobania and Verusa would withdraw their extra forces from the DMZ and afterwards they would try to find a way to prevent this from happening again. Reyes expected that process might take months to make any significant progress. CIA Director Carl Ryder sensed he had many questions and cleared his throat.

"Believe us sir, we see no reason to be satisfied by this conclusion either. While there aren't many viable military options, we'll keep an eye on things to make sure we don't get caught with our pants down." He said.

"It's why we intend to keep the RC-135s over there, sir. We'll make sure if anything of interest comes up it's looked over before anything can happen." Reese added in agreement. Nods went around the table.

"Personally I like to think it's because Verusa was unwilling to face down a clearly superior military force." Welsh spoke up with a smirk.

A smile flickered across Reyes's face. He had to appreciate the general's stab at humor. It was part of what made him a good leader. The man followed through by sobering up quickly.

"Make no mistake, sir; Verusa is still a threat. They've been hurting economically, yes, but even then they've stayed plenty strong. Tech alone doesn't win it all. They've got motivation, they're organized, and there's a damn big lot of em." He pointed out. Uragami nodded in agreement.

"Nonetheless I think we should take a more passive approach on the situation to avoid inflaming things again." He said.

It was the most trying part. They could suspect and predict Verusa's moves all they wanted but they couldn't do much. In a way that was good, though. They didn't have to do much because they had forces in the region that'd been there for years.

"Okay, so for now we're locked in autopilot. We monitor and wait and hope that this whole thing soon fades. That being said I want to be told the second something happens. Carl, I want reports from the stations in Sasomi and Boseong as often as they can get to me." He said.

"Yes sir." The director nodded.

"I also want our forces out there to keep the situation in mind, understood? Don't enflame things, but I don't want us in a bad position."

"We'll keep the Wellington in the region to back the Harling, sir. The former's making a port call so they won't look like too much of a threat. If Verusa wants to reach them, they'll have to violate Shimoji territory to get them." Snow assured confidently.

Reyes nodded in understanding. Verusa could be bold, but it would benefit them more to have a neutral Shimoji Islands. Violating the country's territory would deny them that. It was a reassuring situation…


When she'd first met him, Misaki Kuro had been drawn to Eric by the same fascination she had for all foreigners. He was from another world, another culture. He initially found a new friend, someone to help ease him through a tough part in his life. Eventually they'd both found that their concern for one another, their bond, ran deeper than friendship. She loved him and he loved her. All that didn't excuse the fact that he could be a massive dork, though. He was highlighting it as he danced atop one of the table, doing his best impressions of Freddie Mercury and David Bowie as he sang "Under Pressure". His squadmates encouraged him as he sang and danced, putting everything he had into the final notes from the song as it blasted from the jukebox over by the wall. Misaki stayed over by Mark and Ekaterina, where she could hopefully remain out of the spotlight. Several others had done the same thing, but she wasn't too interested in being in the spotlight. When the song was finally done, Eric there a fist up and struck the same pose Queen's lead singer had become so famous for. Those around him roared with approval while he bowed.

"Thank you, thank you all. Let's just hope Mr. Mercury and Mr. Bowie are both equally amused by the sincerest form of flattery." He joked, still holding a bottle of Tabasco sauce as if it were a microphone.

"Also on another note, any chance I could get another beer?" He added.

Seth shouted out "Yo!" and hurried off to the bar to get more booze. Eric dismounted from the table and hurried over to Misaki. She gave him a look to which he only smiled as he sank into the space on the couch next to her. Misaki rolled her eyes and took another drink of her own beer. Eric smirked and accepted a new Corona as Seth brought back several more. He also accepted a basket of Jalapeno Poppers that was being passed around.

"Want one?" He asked his girlfriend.

"Please and thank you." She replied, taking one and biting down on it. Eric grabbed one for himself and imitated her.

Eric felt good, and it just wasn't from the beer, food, and merrymaking. The NAS Shiatami O'Club was THE O'Club to see when you were stationed on the West Coast. Perched atop a hill at the northern end of the base, it was a large, two-story building made mostly of wood and bricks. The small second story, perched atop the eastern corner, was a small lounge with an outdoor patio. Its pride was the main bar, the biggest area of the place. An oval-shaped bar occupied the center of the room while wooden table after wooden table filled most of the space. The walls and really any place that could bear them were covered with memorabilia of the squadrons and wings that had passed through. There was a handful of ageing arcade cabinets as well as a stage and dance floor shove in the southeast corner. Right now the center of the party for VF-138 was opposite that, near a massive stone fireplace with round couches that sank beneath the floor. He looked at his friend on the next couch over and cleared his throat.

"So Mr. Walker, how is the life as part of the West Coast Fleet treating you so far?" He asked over the noise. Mark looked away from Ekaterina and smirked.

"Ah must say it treats me rather well." He said. Eric held out his beer and Mark clinked his Budweiser against it before he took a long pull.

"And the lady?" Eric added.

"It's very fascinating despite what little I have seen. I had never considered visiting here, but now I am glad that I can." She replied cheerfully.

Misaki pulled at the sleeve of Eric's t-shirt to redirect his attention. He looked towards her and was greeted with a kiss on the cheek. He returned it and rested his forehead against hers.

"I'm glad you could make it." He said softly.

"As am I. I'm glad that this handful of days can be about us." She agreed.

"Yeah."

"I know we didn't plan on it, but since we don't have much of a schedule, would you like to go to Shizukana? I don't wanna stir bad memories or anything but I figured we could go through, for old time's sake."

"Unless your old man is there it shouldn't be a problem."

"Not at this time of the year."

He nodded in understanding and let silence slip in. Having her next to him meant much more than it normally did. Even if he loved his job, being away from the woman he loved for long stretches wore at him. All the flying, the talking In the low, yellow-orange light she looked even more beautiful than usual. She wore a modest sweater and jeans, but the way it all fell against her figure only highlighted that her beauty didn't need to be highlighted by flashy clothes. They kissed again, a bit longer this time. After a minute Mark let out a wolf whistle, to which Eric lifted a middle finger. His friend, unoffended, waited while the two finished.

"Before Ah forget, Saber. In a few days Sharky and Gale are gonna go up to this fancy...On-scene…" He began.

"Onsen, Mark. Try pronouncing the latter half like you would "send", but without the "duh" sound the d makes at the end." Misaki spoke up.

"Onsen…" Mark replied experimentally, trying to mimic her.

"Close enough. Guess it isn't fair when it's my native language."

"Anyways y'all two wanna join? They invited us."

"This seems kinda sudden."

Mark shrugged.

"Gale's idea apparently. She's never been here so she wants to see what she can. Rosenthal doesn't have a big presence here and the Shimoji government apparently doesn't trust them after Anea. Osea doesn't have anything for them to really do here." He explained.

"I don't see why not. We never did get a chance to do anything like that." Misaki pointed out. Eric nodded and sat back.

"Place is supposed to be pretty fancy, too." Mark pointed out.

"Like I'd say no." Eric chuckled.

As he took another drink, Commander McGavin stood atop the stone hearth that jutted out a few feet from the firebox. He cleared his throat and held up a hand.

"Excuse me, excuse me my fellow Ronin!" He called.

The rest of the squadron quieted and looked up at their commander as he stood there. The man assumed a regal post, like he was toasting at a fancy dinner party, and straightened out his shirt.

"I'm very glad to be partying with you all here tonight. There are few outfits that are finer than Fitron 138. Now, I know that we've had a long month. We've been in a very volatile situation. A situation which we sometimes felt disconnected even when we were in the middle of it. However, I'm not going to dwell on that. Rather, I'm wrangling you all in because we need to carry on a sacred duty that the Red Ronin have carried on for generations." He began. A few pilots shouted or whistled in agreement, to which McGavin raised his mug to and took a drink.

"Now these traditions are not merely habits that we've made sacred, but rather an important part of reflecting who we are. You see, the concept of "Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman" is the purest form of what we are." He went on.

"Or Warrior-Bastard-Bitches!" Vixen called. She held her hands up and smirked as those around her laughed and hooted. McGavin chuckled and nodded in agreement. He paced back and forth as he started talking again.

"Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman and Warrior-Bastard-Bitches indeed. We are fighters of the ugly business of war, but we are also students of it. We are scholars of it in fact, and thus we see the incorporation of the warrior and the gentleman. We are not barbarians; we execute our orders with precision, speed, and spirit. We fight so that the ideals that we hold dear will survive. So that the land we call home will survive, and so that our allies may survive. However, that is not to say we are soft or a paper tiger. This is where the last part comes in. Often, we are seen as the unruly of society. Immature, lustful, loud, prideful, or whatever have you. But, it is that wild side that gives us the strength we need to apply what we've learned, and to do what we must do. Now, as such we must keep that image alive. To honor those who have held the line before us and those who will hold the line after us. So, let us get down to business."

McGavin craned his neck and looked towards the couches.

"Firstly, I'd like to use this chance to thank those that support us, and I believe we have two of them with us tonight." He said. Misaki's eyes widened and she exchanged looks with an equally surprised Ekaterina.

"Us?" The Yuktobanian asked.

"Yes you." McGavin nodded. He raised his mug, as did everyone else.

"Thank you both for your support. I'm sure that Saber and Tex both agree." McGavin commented.

"Wholeheartedly, Skipper." Mark assured. He kissed Ekaterina on the cheek and raised his beer before taking another drink. He tilted his head back and sighed contently.

"Now that I've thanked you both, Miss Notlovich if I may borrow your beloved Mark for a second?" McGavin called.

Mark cocked a brow and smirked.

"May Ah ask why, O leader of Fitron 138?" He asked.

"This is your first cruise with us, and so you must truly become one of the Red Ronin." McGavin explained, waving the junior officer up.

Mark chuckled and nodded in understand, aware of what was about to happen. Ekaterina tilted her head at her boyfriend, visibly confused as to why he was smiling.

"What does he mean? You joined the squadron months ago." She pointed out.

"That Ah did, but this is my first time deployed with them." Mark replied.

The pilot stood up and theatrically sept Ekaterina up into a princess carry. He gave her a long kiss, as if he were saying farewell, and then set her down to join Commander McGavin. Eric hurried up to join the rest of the squadron as well, leaving the two women to ponder what exactly was going on. Ekaterina actually looked a little worried.

"I don't think they'll do anything bad, Kat." Misaki assured. She vaguely remembered Eric recounting some sort of ceremony, but she couldn't remember the details. Pilots' penchant for cheeky immaturity gave her a good idea, though.

"I am worried because Mark generally goes along with the antics, and I always find out about the stupid ones second-hand."

"Like the drifting video in Nordlands?"

"Yes."

Ekaterina scowled, and then shook a fist in his direction.

"I swear Marky if you get yourself hurt, you're sleeping on the floor!" She warned. Eric kept it to himself that a lot of places in the islands had beds that were on the floor.

"Ah'll be fine, Ah'll be fine."

Mark stood atop the hearth next to his commander and looked at the man expectantly. McGavin waved towards the others and something was passed forward.

He grimaced as once again the cowboy had was tossed up to the front, and then to him. He examined the object and cocked a brow at McGavin.

"Is this it?" He asked.

"Part of it Tex, part of it." His commander corrected as he patted him on the shoulder.

"Now, in being a Warrior-Bastard-Gentleman part of your ethos is humility. Pride leads to mistakes in the sky, mistakes that can have dire consequences. Wouldn't you agree, Tex?" The senior man went on.

"A fair point." Mark nodded as he donned the cowboy hat.

"I'm glad you agree… !"

"Yes sir?" Eddie said with a grin and a salute.

"Play it."

"Aye, sir."

Mark glanced back at the Operations Officer as the man worked the touchscreen on the Jukebox and increased the volume. Mark didn't recognize the drum beat and what sound like violins at first, but he could recognize that he had to dance to it. He bobbed his head expectantly at first and then recognized the stuff as disco, at least. It was Dschinghis Khan's "Cingrad", but he didn't realize that; disco wasn't his genre. They were singing in Belkan, but it sounded vaguely Yuktobanian, especially when he heard the Belkan pronunciation of the country's capital. At that, he tried his best to imitate some kind of Kazotsky Kick. He could tell, when he glanced her way, that Ekaterina was not amused by his poor imitation of the dance. The pilots didn't know much better, and rather just hooted and howled, sometimes booing when he seemed to be faltering. In the meantime, Eric was sent by Vixen to go get a chilled gourd and a small glass. Ekaterina glanced the pilot's way and then looked at Misaki with a questioning expression.

"I have no clue what the point of any of this. Six years of him doing this and I still don't get it." She commented.

"I don't think we ever will, Ekaterina." Misaki said with halfhearted exasperation.

When he was finally done, Mark stood up straight, raised his arms, and lifted both middle fingers at his audience. They responded in kind and McGavin quieted them.

"Wow…well Tex, I'm glad the kind of moving we usually do isn't dancing." He said. Mark pulled off the cowboy hat and snorted. McGavin looked towards Eric as he held up the jug.

"Anyways that was the first part of this initiation. The second part is the most important. Bring forth the brew!" McGavin announced. It was met by applause.

"The second part of this is that you must allow yourself to become one with our proud history. Now, what do I mean by that? Well, as contained in the gourd that Saber is bringing up, the Red Ronin have had a long, proud history since it was first established in 1941. We carry that history with us through what we call The Brew. It reflects the places that we have fought." He explained.

Eric brought the gourd up and handed Mark the glass. He then poured a dark liquid into the cup. It looked like red wine, almost. Mark cocked a brow and looked at his squadmates.

"This brew contains Soju, from the lands of Songolia when we fought them back during the Great World War. When VF-138 returned to fight the Second Songolian Insurrection from 1965 to 1970, we took with us some of the finest Songolian rice wine. After that, we would lie in slumber for many, many years until 1995, when we were called to help push Belka back from our homeland, back from Ustio, and back from Sapin. As a trophy of our victory, we took Ustian Chateau Boloise, some of the finest wine of their vineyards." He started. Mark looked down at the small cup.

"Ah can see why Ah'm drinking so little." He chuckled.

"We must preserve The Brew as well. Anyways for our victory over Belka, we added some of the finest Belkan beer: Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier. Last, and certainly not least, our squadron's most recent foray helping to stop the war between Shamlak and Kedhan during Operation Neptune's Shield and our continued peacekeeping efforts. From that we bring no alcohol, as it is taboo in much of that region, but instead we bring a healthy dose of Gatorade." The man added.

Misaki and Ekaterina sank back into their seats, facing away from the concoction Mark was about to ingest. Ekaterina's face paled considerably as she heard a new round of cheering. Mark let out a wolf-like howl before McGavin calmed the crowd.

"May I formally christen our newest Ronin: Mark Walker!" He declared to the approval of his subordinates. Chants of "Judgement by the Sword!" echoed through the bar area as Mark and McGavin bowed to one another and the "Shogun" of VF-138 and sealed his membership with the Ronin. Misaki and Ekaterina said nothing while their boyfriends sat down like nothing had happened. Mark snickered and turned back towards the others.

"We got any wings left?" He shouted.

Vixen brought over a basket of them and Mark chased down The Brew with a couple.

"That actually wasn't half bad. The Gatorade covered some of the taste." He admitted.

"I cannot believe you willingly drank that." Ekaterina shivered. Mark snickered while his friend sat back and smiled contently.

"The Warrior-Bastard-Gentlemen act in mysterious ways." Eric replied.