DISCLAIMER - I do not own Advance Wars or anything copyrightedly relating to within, which is copyrighted and owned by Nintendo, although I do happen to like this piece of work I've written and if I ever discover some random lamer forging it in their name I will be substantially cheesed off, and nasty letters from me will commence bombardment on said lamer. So don't even bother stealing it. However, you MAY place this on your website without my consent should it have an Advance Wars fanfiction section. If that happened and I discovered such a thing has occurred, I'd actually be quite flattered. Thank you, and enjoy.

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Storming Skies
By Rusty Dillingham
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---Mission Ten – A Long Time Coming---

The room was quiet. Tux wasn't there, so that was a plus for the silence's side of the scoreboard. Glenn presumed the wickedly-gifted pilot was still engaged with himself in a game of pool in the pilot's lounge, which was good enough for Thunderbolt Squadron's leader. Glenn wanted some peace to himself with no interruptions. It wasn't that he were tired – It was that he just needed some time to think, or meditate, as he often liked to picture these pleasantly quiet times as.

Sitting on his bed, Glenn closed his eyes, a sense of peace easing over him and relaxing his weary bones and nerves. Evenings at Reagan Air Force Base were always very enjoyable, since the sun always set past the top of some distant mountain tops, making the scenery around the base very beautiful to the eyes. Orange Star's natural, delicate scenery was much more visually appealing than any other nation's – even Green Earth's. It unconsciously surprised Glenn that Orange Star and Green Earth didn't have one another's names.

He'd been sitting on the edge of the bed for a while, and by now his mind had begun to wander, most notably towards his status as an Orange Star citizen – No, his status as not only an Orange Star citizen but also as a member of its fighting forces; its essential backbone. He was a part of the few men and women who had enough courage to take up arms and fight for what was right when such times beckoned. He got paid, yes. But that was irrelevant. He wasn't doing this for the money. As time wore on as he sat there, he began to question why exactly he was here; why he was doing what he did. After all, he hadn't given it much thought when he'd gone to the recruiting office some time ago. He'd just gone and done it.

Flying planes was all he'd ever known how to do. School-teaching had been an utter disaster, and the thought of ever having a 'real' job, sitting in some cubicle while boredly pawing at a mile-high stack of papers quite frankly terrified Glenn. But why hadn't he wanted to just decided to be a cargo flight pilot or something? Why exactly was he fighting for Orange Star's safety? Orange Star had never done anything for him up until about half a year before when he'd moved into the country. And of all things, he'd decided to be a fighter pilot – The most vicious, dangerous job in the entire world.

Why did he do this?

He looked at the ground. It was for a noble cause, yes. But that wasn't enough. There was another reason, he felt.

There had to be. It could never be so simple.

It wasn't as though he'd never been without a reason. He'd just never looked up at what it was. He sensed it was there, almost to the point where he could grab hold of it, but it was invisible in a cloud of turmoil, lost among memories, passions, dreams, nightmares. Swimming through them never seemed to help, since he'd end up drowning amidst them in a vain effort to gain sight of his path. That and he was almost always too busy to even bother thinking about such irrelevance, considering he was in the middle of fighting a war and all. Still, the reason was there. It was.

Glenn hesitated, opening his eyes slightly, feeling them droop a bit from excessive closure. He reached over towards the small desk a lit lamp stood on next to the bed and pulled open one of the drawers, fishing his wallet out among the mess Tux had thrown in there some time ago when Glenn had been out.

He flicked open the wallet, ignoring what little money it contained for the moment, and quickly found what he was looking for. The little slip of paper was in the back, nestled somewhere behind ATM cards and an assortment of worthless crap Glenn no longer had much of a need for. He put the wallet aside and scooted closer to the lamp's illumination, holding the paper up a bit to the light.

And almost immediately, the picture brought back a flood of memories.

It had been taken some time after Glenn had first entered Green Earth's air force. He couldn't remember the exact date, but it didn't matter. In the picture, he looked a hell of a lot younger than he did now, but this had been taken when he'd been twenty-one or so. By now he was twenty-six – Nearing twenty-seven – and his face was more calloused, more experienced. Of course, having a blue thousand bruises all over his mug thanks to that God-damned moron Fel Banon didn't help things, but he still looked more wisened thanks to his years taking on death. Glenn had also matured greatly by now, or so he hoped. Back then, not even two years in flight school had made him look any older.

Dario Yossarian stood next to Glenn in the picture, giving the younger pilot rabbit ears. Clinton Air Force Base was in the background, and one or two Green Earth fighter jets could be made out among a pair of mountains – The sun tint in the picture made things difficult to see. Both of them had a severe case of red-eye, causing Glenn to cock a quick smirk.

Suddenly, he felt another wave – This one a barrage of emotions. His eyes flickered and wavered, and he forced himself to lower the picture before he could get choked up as he dropped his head, closing his eyes again tightly.

It was because he wanted to belong. He wanted a place he could call home and be among people like him, people he could call friends. That was why he did what he did. The feeling of being among friends – almost family members – had long eluded him when he'd left Green Earth. And now that he were here, he had for some time realized he'd been among friends, family members.

But Fel Banon and Zodo Gallow – Perhaps even Beauregard – ruined that feeling. They tore it apart with their very being and took it away from Glenn. Now, instead of feeling as though he were home, the fight with Banon made him feel as though as though he were behind enemy lines, having to keep an eye on every direction to keep from being shot at. They made him feel pathetic and miserable, and coupled with the impending, seemingly immovable threat of Black Hole, as he sat there alone, he couldn't stop one or two tears from forming, as hard as he tried to keep them from coming about.

Tuxedo suddenly burst into the room, nearly throwing the door from its hinges. "Glenn!"

Startled, Glenn opened his eyes and shoved the picture and wallet back into the drawer, quickly dispersing of his short-lived depression. "What's the matter, cowboy?"

Tux had a big grin on his face. "You'll never believed what happened!"

Raising an eyebrow, the flight leader just sat there, cocking his head to one side a bit in confusion. "Try me. What happened?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Glenn refrained from sighing. "Yes."

There came a short pause. Tux's grin only got larger. "Ya really sure, Glenn?"

It was followed by another of its kind. "Yes."

What on Wars World was Tux so happy for? Well, he was always happy about something; most of the time this happiness centered on a woman or some such nonsense. Glenn wasn't really sure if Tux had an actual girlfriend somewhere, waiting for him to come home from the war. It was seriously doubtful, since the guy always bragged about how he'd never let a woman get him all tied down, making him stay home all the time and keeping him from doing whatever he wanted. Tux liked women, but not to the point where they got in his way.

"What if I gave you three—"

Glenn jumped up. "Doggone it, Tux, JUST TELL ME!"

"Alright, alright!" Tux held up his hands. "Chill. The army found a couple rogue Black Hole troops wandering around in the countryside not too long ago. This was the nearest base, so they brought 'em here."

Blinking rapidly, Glenn stood there. He hadn't quite expected that sort of answer. "Really?"

"Yep." Tux smirked that crazy old smirk of his. "They're over in some of them cells at the MP office, keepin' old Fel company. I'd say they're about as bored as he probably is, sittin' there wastin' away into nothing and all."

Glenn sat there, his eyes widening by a significant amount. Without responding again, he rushed past Tux in a dead heat for the door.

"Wait, we're not supposed to—" Tux couldn't stop Glenn. The pilot was already rushing out the door, and Tux had the feeling he couldn't stop him even if he gave the guy the nearest sports car. "Uh oh."

--- --- ---

"You miserable monkeys! You can't keep us contained in here for long!"

"Want to bet on it?" The MP casually flicked a piece of dirt off his boot as he sat there in a chair, causing it to make a beeline directly into the Black Hole soldier's helmet visor. The alien almost immediately had a raging fit, grabbing onto the cell bars with its one metal-armored hand and banging on them with its emptied gun-arm.

"Black Hole will be victorious! You'll be laying in a puddle of blood before you ever realize it!" The soldier finished this with a hideous shriek to accompany its repulsive voice.

The MP looked up, smirking and frowning at the slug-like fiend. "If you want anything more than bread and water while you're here, I suggest you put a cork in it now."

"Hah!" the soldier bragged. "You monkeys are so inferior. We can go for days without necessary digestion!"

"Then you'll go for weeks without 'necessary digestion,' if you don't shut up this instant."

The alien soldier stood there a moment, a sweatdrop rolling down the side of its greasy head. Its comrades sat crowded on the nearby bunk, showering it with hatred in their glares.

At that moment, the office's door swung open. Glenn Gordon stepped into the room, Tuxedo Ral in his trails. Tux didn't look upset at the presence of the Black Hole soldiers, but Glenn sure did – and he was actually ignoring Fel this time. Thunderbolt Squadron's flight leader was already making tracks for the Black Hole troops' cell door, and he stopped as he came within feet of it. "Open it up."

The MP sat there, staring at him. "Say what?"

Glenn's eyes narrowed as they centered on the already concerned alien soldiers. "I said, open the damn door."

"Sir," the MP started, furrowing his brow, "you don't have the authorization to give me those kinds of orders, and I'll—"

But he immediately shut his trap when he saw the look Glenn gave him, and while he had strict orders from the top to not even think about letting the dirtbags in the cell out ever again, the Thunderbolt pilot outranked him anyway. Clearing his throat, the MP fished his keys off the desk and stood up, moving towards the cell door, his feet shuffling along on the thin gray carpet reluctantly. Glenn stepped back a bit to give him some room.

The Black Hole soldiers all stood inside the cell, staring at he and the MP.

Fel Banon sat up a bit from his bunk in his own cell painfully, gawking at the scene as best he could from his rather cramped position.

His forehead perspiring heavily, the MP unlocked the soldier's cell entrance. With a noisy, agonized creak, the heavy metal door slowly opened by just a tad, but that was all it took. The loudmouthed Black Hole soldier who had been giving the MP a rough time burst off from his spot and slammed his armored body right into the door, sending it flying open – and right into the MP. "Agh!"

But before the soldier could get away, a set of hands clasped onto its helmet and outright slammed the alien into the office's wall, easily putting indentures in the white cement. Glenn whirled his head around after swinging the soldier there, glaring at the MP. "Close it NOW!"

The other soldiers made a break for the door.

"Damn!" Glenn leapt from his own spot and hurled himself against the heavy metal gateway that determined who stayed in the cell and who roamed free. Tux gave a helping hand, though not in the happiest of ways, considering he too had to throw himself against the door just as the soldiers banged against it.

Regaining his senses, the MP swiftly moved back towards the door, fiddling with his keys frustratedly as sweat poured down his head.

Glenn glared at him as the soldiers began pushing against the half-closed door. "COME ON!"

By now, the big-mouthed soldier was regaining its own thoughts, and without warning, it blasted itself towards the big group over by the cell.

Easily noticing the heavy, pounding footsteps directly behind him, Tux whirled around – just in time to get hammered into. The impact, combined with the power the soldier had, sent the two of them crashing right into the door, slamming it closed, and this sent the Black Hole troopers inside falling back onto their metal rumps.

A sound "click" reverberated through the Orange Star personnel's souls, and Glenn instantly felt a wash of relief travel through him. With the cell door locked, he could concentrate on the freed soldier, but if anything it looked like doing so would be even more of a chore than trying to close the damned door. The trooper was recovering from his attack on Tux, and was obviously preparing to belt the already pained pilot a good one.

It wouldn't get the opportunity. Glenn tackled it like a football player and again slammed it against the wall. Tux stumbled forward not only to keep himself distanced from the soldiers inside the cell but also out of instinct, gasping for his breath. All the MP could do was stand back and watch, bug-eyed.

The alien choked and garbled as it again tried to nab its senses, but in a wild move, it swung out hard with its armored hand at Glenn's face, hoping to knock it clean off his head. All it got was air. The pilot had more or less shifted himself down and away to keep from losing a body part, and was reaching out to grab ahold of something himself.

The Black Hole soldier never knew what hit it. In an instant, Glenn had knocked it cold by hammering it in its visor with a nearby wrench some of the base's technical workers had been using earlier to fix something in the MP office. The alien screeched hideously, grabbing at its cracked helmet, but Glenn, if a bit overly bastardously, didn't even give it much of an opportunity to recover. He suddenly shifted onto his side and pounded its gut with his boot, sending the creature directly back into the wall again. "Ggghaghh!"

Everything froze. The soldier crumpled, gasping for breath, which ended up sounding like wheezes and snorts. Tux, the MP, and the other Black Hole troopers could only stand there, all eyes on Glenn Gordon.

Before things could calm down, though, Glenn grabbed the alien without warning and hurled it into an opposing wall with all the force he could muster. The sound of the train crash echoed across the base.

That was the last hit. Everything again went quiet.

Glenn slowly stepped up to the severely beaten soldier, the alien's knees shaken as it struggled to remain upright.

"No ifs, ands, or buts," the pilot uttered, "you're going to tell me everything I want to know."

The creature just stared at him, blinking its big, ugly eyes in confusion.

Glenn swung out hard with his leg at the alien's kneels, instantly toppling it. "Gah!"

"Glenn!" Tux almost yelled. "Damn! Chill out! He can't tell you nothin' if he's dead."

"He'll tell me everything or he'll BE dead." Glenn spun the wrench in his hand, glaring menacingly down at the fallen Black Hole trooper. The trooper only returned the expression, the two enemies staring each other down hideously, each somehow restraining the urge to release their violent instincts and tear one another apart. Glenn's hold on the wrench tightened. "You're lucky I don't kill you right now like the dirty, mangy dog you are."

Tux couldn't remember any sort of instance where Glenn acted in such a manner. It almost scared him, but if anything, he was more frightened of what would happen if it came out against him. "I reckon bein' locked up next to old stinky there in that other cell has already frightened the little bastard enough as it is. He doesn't need any death threats."

Hesitating, Glenn turned slightly and eyed Tux strangely. "Are you saying I should take it easier on this son of a bitch?"

"I'm just standin' back to make sure you don't do nothin' stupid." Tuxedo Ral stared right back; Glenn couldn't remember a more serious expression on the man's face. Torture wasn't something looked upon very well by the upper military staff in Orange Star, and the Thunderbolt squadron leader was walking a damn thin line already. He didn't need to get in any more trouble – The last thing the entire squadron needed was to have their boss reprimanded.

The Thunderbolt leader turned away from Ral and gazed back down at the Black Hole infantry thing. "Like I said, you're going to tell us every single thing I want to know or we're sending you to the slaughter house for meat packaging."

"You can't do anything to me," the trooper challenged in an overly calm manner, its disgusting voice making it difficult to understand at first. "You'll only get yourself into a hole if you touch me again. You can't touch me at all!"

Glenn kicked it right in its face.

Another crack appeared in the trooper's glass visor, and its head banged against the side of its helmet harshly as a repulsive screech echoed across the room. Tux swallowed hard, suddenly aware of Glenn's current anger level; all the MP, Fel Banon, and the other Black Hole soldiers could do was watch from a painful distance. All Gordon did was leer down at it, obviously growing heavily annoyed with the little slug.

"Tell me about Judgment Squadron," he uttered quietly.

"What!?" the trooper blared, half out of anger, half from wonder.

Glenn slowly placed the wrench against the larger crack in the soldier's helmet. "Tell me about Judgment Squadron."

The trooper's blood-red eyes centered directly on the ace pilot, sweat pouring down its forehead as it began to seriously consider its predicament. "What about Judgment Squadron?"

The Thunderbolt leader just blinked. "Are you mentally deficient? Tell me what you know about them..."

The trooper stared at him.

"... before I kill you," Glenn finished, his eyes sharpening angrily.

Fear thundered in the soldier's eyes. The Orange Star pilot was not kidding.

It couldn't find words, though. Its filthy tongue was entirely dry, its throat croaking as it struggled to speak to save its miserable life. All it could do was sit there and look pathetic, and that annoyed Glenn. He wasn't getting the answers he wanted, needed. This soldier was the only source of information he had on Judgment Squadron at the moment, and he'd be damned if he lost that possible info.

"You know," he uttered, "when I was still in my home country, we had a saying among the Air Force, one in the old Green Earth language. Jedoch nützlich oder unbrauchbar. Translated to Standard, it meant however useful or useless. Do what you must to the enemy, however useful they may be to you or useless they are to their superiors. An enemy is an enemy no matter what. I'm sure all you slime-filled lizards in Black Hole's forces have some sort of meaningful phrase like that, so you can understand exactly how serious I am about my work. I hope."

"I don't know anything!" the trooper erupted in fright. "I swear!"

"You little God damn LIAR!" Gordon dropped the wrench and grabbed the sides of its helmet. "How would you like this thing to come off? You wouldn't like it very much, huh? A nice fat intake of our planet's oxygen can't be good for your cholesterol, you little piece of Klingon trash!"

"NO!" the soldier barked. "Wait--! Wait!!"

"STOP!"

Glenn indeed stopped, and rose slowly to eye where the source of noise had come from. One of the alien troopers was standing before its comrades in their cell, its hideous eyes locked dead on the Thunderbolt leader. "I can tell you about Judgment Squadron."

The Orange Star squadron leader stood there a moment, then smirked. "Can you, now?"

"I was stationed at their base before being sent out here," the trooper remarked bluntly, if a bit defeatedly. Obviously the realization had come about that they really would have to talk, or else.

Glenn smirked further, then glanced at the fallen Black Hole soldier.

Only then did he notice the damage his quick interrogation tactics had done. The trooper seemed very nervous and uncomfortable being so close to him, and it was still sweating heavily, causing its forehead to appear even more repulsive than as normal. For a moment, Glenn considered the possibility that he may have overdone it a bit.

But Black Hole had killed his companions. Bubba Boggs was gone because of them. They threatened everything that was good in the world, and for that reason, Glenn decided to stand by his actions. He turned and began stepping towards the cell.

He couldn't ignore the hard look he received from Tuxedo Ral on the way, though.

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Author Notes:

It's been a long time coming. I'm glad to finally finish another chapter of this story. It feels like it's been a year since I updated. What annoys me is that anybody who may have been reading it have likely been away from it so long that it'll be difficult to bring 'em back up to date, but, that's what I get for my own vile combination of business and laziness. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll try and get another one up soon if it gets good feedback. Thanks.