Weaver prided herself on her ability to snap awake and be ready for just about anything. Even before a eighty pound German Shepherd used her as a pillow, she had been a very light sleeper. A safety pin had once dropped off of her nightstand onto her hardwood floor, when she was still in high school, and the small noise had got her attention. She had shot up in bed, in an immediate panic, flashlight pulled out from beneath one pillow, knife pulled out from beneath the other, and ready to fend off what her imagination had already classified as a murdering rapist thief.
She hadn't been able to get back to sleep that night.
So when she heard what was the creaking of Jinx moving (but what her imagination immediately classified as a murdering rapist cobra soldier) she had already shot up in bed, yelled out, "Pass auf!" (guard) to get Kitty's attention.
Her hand had shot under her pillow, pulling out a knife, and she faced her foe.
Jinx was hanging upside down from the ceiling, her feet and hands on the wall, propping her up. She raised an eyebrow, looking absurd at the angle she was at, and asked, "Is everything alright?"
Weaver slowly put her knife back underneath her pillow, mumbling, "Platz." (down) to Kitty. She ran a hand through her short hair, and sighed. "Why are you on the ceiling?"
Jinx slipped down, landing gracefully on her feet. "I prefer having my morning meditation there."
"On the ceiling?"
"Yes."
"Any particular reason?"
"Meditation is easier when you can only hear the blood rushing through your ears." She explained.
"I see."
TWO HOURS LATER:
Morning PT had been hell, of course. Beach Head always made it that way. Weaver had gotten considerably better now that Kitty was there with her. The only downside for Beach Head is that he couldn't make the dog climb up the ropes.
Priest hadn't noticed the tension between Weaver and Hammer Head until they were forced to sit next to each other. He looked back and forth between the two of them, patiently waiting for one to break.
Hammer Head lost. "So, you and Storm Shadow, huh?"
"You and Jinx, huh?"
Hammer Head glared at Weaver, "Yeah, me and Jinx. Because she's funny, and nice."
"Me and Storm Shadow. Because he's charming and hot."
Hammer Head slammed his fork down, pointing a finger at her. "You, are the biggest hypocrite in the world. I'm a bad kung fu movie? You are a tiny little sliver of a person, with a chipmunk voice, falling in love with a ninja master, getting whisked off into a dangerous life, all instincts telling you to leave him and preserve your own life, but you can't bring yourself to break his heart, and in the end, he kills his arch enemy, and you have babies together."
Priest snorted, "She'd sooner rip out her own uterus than have children."
"Thank you." Weaver said. "Look, enough with the blame game, its initiation today. I have to keep my guard up. I don't wanna be the idiot sucking vodka out of a tampon."
"Bitch, it's free booze. Just accept it."
"Hello." The three of them looked up to see Jinx, holding her tray and smiling. "Mind if I sit with you? If we're going through hazing today, we might as well start off together."
Hammer Head quickly pulled out the chair next to his, "Absolutely, sit right down!"
Weaver rolled her eyes, "As I was saying, I will sick Kitty on their asses before a tampon goes into my mouth, I don't give a fuck, I don't even put those things in my vagina."
Before they could say another word, a box of tampons was thrown onto the table, and around ten men stood around them. Wild Bill was the one who has tossed the box, and he smirked down at the four of them. "Challenge number one of today, kiddies. You're going for a ride in the Sky Strikers. Each of you gets ten minutes. If you can keep your lunch down, you have to suck on the blood cotton."
Road Block walked up to the table, setting a tray covered up with a large silver bowl. He gave them each pitying looks. "Good luck guys."
Wild Bill removed the bowl, revealing four fish sandwiches topped with olives and onions. Weaver felt sick already. "Each one of you is going to scarf one down, and then take your flight."
Hammer Head's hand shot out, grabbing his sandwich and digging in. Weaver's eyes widened, "How the hell are you this enthusiastic?"
He swallowed what was in his mouth, and proclaimed loudly, "I WANT MY GOLD STICKY STAR!"
Priest picked up his sandwich, "This is going to be a bad day."
He bit into it, and nearly choked. "It's fucking dripping in fish oil."
Jinx shrugged, casually biting into hers like it was a bland PB&J.
Weaver could already feel herself dry heaving, just from the smell of them. One quick glance around the cafeteria showed everyone was watching. Everyone in here had already gone through this. Washing out this early into the day was not going to get anyone's respect. Gaining respect was the only reason she had put up with hazing in boot camp and A school. She remembers going through quite a bit to get recognized for K9 unit. She picked up the last sandwich, silently thanking Road Block that hers only have about four olives.
Kitty sat up head on Weaver's thigh, sensing her discomfort. He really didn't like the crowd of men around her, and he wasn't shy about letting them know. His warning growls didn't deter them.
She bit in. It was just as awful as she expected.
Hammer Head was already done, wiping his mouth. Priest was halfway through. Jinx was done. Weaver managed to swallow her first bite, and then tried to get through the rest without tasting it. It didn't work.
As soon as they were done, the men had them out of their seats, walking them towards the hangar. Weaver had to keep one hand on Kitty's head to get him to stay calm, constantly scratching his ear. In the hangar, three Sky Strikers and one Ghost Striker sat, ready to go. Four men who had cornered them in the cafeteria stood closer to the aircraft. Wild Bill was one of them.
He pointed at Hammer Head, "I'll take the squid here, since he's so eager."
Hammer Head took off like a bullet, inside the Sky Striker before Wild Bill was.
Another one of the pilots spoke up, "Alright, you, Air Force."
Weaver's head snapped up, wary. "Yes, Sir?"
"You can call me Slip Stream. And you, are going up in the Ghost Striker. You're already Air Force, so we're going to make it a bit harder for you." When Weaver practically deflated, he clapped her on the shoulder, "Aw, don't be a piss ant. Show these grunts what the air force is made of."
"Intel and nuke codes." Weaver mumbled, climbing into the air craft.
Jinx got taken up by Ghostrider, and Priest by Ace.
Jinx sat calmly in her seat, hands clasped on her lap, eyes closed in concentration.
Hammer Head had both hands in the air, screaming, "WHOOOOOO HOOOO! HUAAAHHH!"
Priest ended up doubled over almost immediately, holding his stomach, mumbling about "fucking crazy ass pilots" over and over again as Ace started doing barrel rolls.
Slipstream hadn't even finished his barrel roll, and Weaver had already dove for her barf bag, and let it go. Slip Stream shook his head in disappointment, and landed the ghost striker. "Jesus kid, represent a little more."
"If I had joined the Air Force because of my amazing ability to withstand flight pressure, I wouldn't be a fucking K9 unit." Weaver growled. "I represent on the ground, god damn it."
She stumbled out of the plan, falling onto her ass almost immediately. Kitty came bounding over to her, trying to get her to stand up. Weaver just allowed herself to lay down, petting Kitty's head. "This is why we don't do pilot shit."
Priest was the next one to crack, almost making it eight minutes. He jumped out of his Sky Striker, wiped his mouth off, and then promptly laid down next to Weaver, using Kitty as a pillow. "I fucking hate pilots."
"Me too."
Hammer Head and Jinx managed to both hold out until ten minutes, managing to avoid the tampons.
Weaver and Priest were both presented with a vodka soaked tampon. Priest took the soaking cloth, and sucked on it, trying to wash out the taste of vomit with vodka. Weaver refused hers, "I'm not the legal drinking age. Don't even fucking dare force feed it to me, I have a dog."
The pilots backed off immediately.
