this story can be read as either pre super genesis wave or post super genesis wave! i kept it purposefully vague to fit both continuities.

Three Green Birds Walk into a Locker Room

The Battle Lord leered at Jet from atop his perch. He gripped the bars, swaying back and forth and filling the room with metallic creaking that made Jet's teeth ache. Jet set his beak into a scowl, his gaze half-lidded and posture leaning to the right as he awaited the Battle Lord's reprimands.

He was a stark contrast to the other avian soldiers filling the Battle Lord's control room. Lining the pathway, they reminded Jet of pawns on a chessboard. With their straight backs and consistent salutes, they exemplified the discipline of the Battle Bird Armada.

When Jet glanced at them, no one met his gaze. No loyal soldier wanted any part in Jet's punishment. If they reached out to him or scoffed at his predicament, he knew the Battle Lord would break the beak clean off their face.

He breathed in deeply, his chest and shoulders rising. His white feathers bristled as he arched his back. The air stayed in his lungs, blowing through his body like a pleasant draft. He raised his head, meeting Kukku's sneer with an unmatched expression of resentment, smirking at the one bird who claimed to rule the skies.

"Care to get this over with already, sir? Heck, you've already bogged me down with a mission tomorrow morning. Can't I get some rest, or do you have something new to dish out?" he jeered, knowing his brash words were like blows to the Battle Lord.

Gasps broke from the other soldiers. Newer recruits whipped their heads to one another. Beaks fell open in wordless shock, and Jet imagined gnats flying down their throats.

Kukku tilted his head. He continued swinging on his roost. Uneven, chipped teeth appeared when his beak split into a frown. He lunged from his perch, flipping high in the air, all eyes on him. The ground quaked when he landed. Milder birds yelped, aftershocks rippling underneath their boots, but Jet remained still even as Kukku gripped his shoulder with enough force to make it crack.

"Jet, Jet, Jet, dare I say that you've left me quite impressed," the Battle Lord said, beginning to waltz around him. He refused to release Jet's shoulder, his hand twisting as he walked. "No matter what mission I give you, you perfectly complete it." Kukku pinched inwards, and Jet sucked in a pained breath. "But there are many concerns about you, Jet. Several."

Glancing at Kukku's knuckles, Jet gulped. He hoped the Battle Lord didn't hear him. "And what kind of problems do you have with me?"

Tearing his arm back, the Battle Lord twisted in front of him. He towered over the hawk, becoming all that Jet could see. Only glimmers of the setting sun rounded around him, casting orange and red hues against the black shadow dominating Jet's vision. "I can trust you to steal whatever I need. I can trust you to eliminate the enemies of the Battle Bird Armada," he said with a sigh, "but your obedience leaves much to be desired."

Jet bit his tongue. It took every ounce of self-control to swallow back his insults. He should've anticipated this confrontation sooner rather than later. His haughty, arrogant nature created conflict among his peers, most of whom he knew were jealous of his status as one of the Battle Lord's prized soldiers.

His eyes darted from side to side. Again, no one made eye contact with him. Some shuffled their feet. Most stared at their leader, refusing to give Jet the decency of sympathy. But their enmity and jealousy wafted off them like an odor, too pungent to be ignored, and he knew they believed Kukku's treatment would become justified no matter what excuse Jet used.

A snicker ghosted past his beak. "I wonder which one of these jokers snitched to the big bad Battle Lord."

Kukku's arm swung faster than his mind could register. Pain exploded in Jet's abdomen. His eyes bulged in his sockets. The air trapped in his lungs escaped in a sharp wheeze. Before he knew what happened, his body crashed onto the floor. Like a rag doll, his limbs flopped uselessly onto the unforgiving floor.

"Your attempts to ruffle my feathers are intolerable!" Kukku bellowed, stomping over to Jet. Each step closer rattled Jet's bones and jostled his body. It was like experiencing one earthquake after the other, his body trying to process the agony swelling in his stomach.

As blood rushed to Jet's head, Kukku observed his writhing minion. He wrapped his arms behind his back and waited. Instead of delivering another blow, he allowed Jet to struggle to his feet.

Jet's knees crumpled, and his beak crashed into the ground. Titters rose out among the rabble. The Battle Lord did not order them to cease, so they watched with glee as Jet hobbled. His fingers could not hold anything but himself. Vertigo claimed his vision, smearing the gray and green colors of the floor and his feathers. His boots squeaked on the tiles as his knees returned to the ground, threatening to give out, but Jet grunted and shoved himself up.

The laughter ceased. Jet inhaled and exhaled like they would be his last breaths. He surveyed the Battle Lord's subordinates once again. They retained their neutrality as if they had perfected the art of masquerade.

Kukku looped his finger around the strap of Jet's goggles. He jerked his hand to the side, pulling Jet this way and that way like a puppet on strings. "Now, Jet, considering you are one of my best soldiers, I hate to do this to you," he informed, Jet gnashing down on his molars, "but a little public humiliation never killed anyone, did it?"

Kukku flung him aside, and Jet stumbled. He regained his footing, his tail feathers flicking upwards. Rubbing his temples, Jet shook his head and muttered his agreement.

"Excellent! Then, you know to follow the flock?" Kukku bent low and flicked Jet's brow. It would bruise in the coming minutes.

The muscles in his arms tensed. His fists trembled with the urge to wipe the smug smile off Kukku's face. Jet raised his head, his chest tightening and heart thundering as the Battle Lord grinned wide enough to expose all of his jagged teeth.

Soldiers shifted to face him, awaiting his response. Kukku allowed him all the time in the world. Only the distant noise of the engines and breeze splicing against the sides of the Battle Bird Armada's flying fortress filled their ears, but Jet only heard static billowing in his head and the drumming of his brain.

"Understood, sir. Won't happen again," Jet spat out.

Jet didn't hear the rest of their conversation. He stood with his back as straight as a ruler and a blank slate for an expression. He took on the posturing of a proud member of the Battle Bird Armada,

Kukku dismissed him with a pat on his head and a wheezy laugh. Jet nodded and dragged himself out. He limped along the carpet, his ankle twinging with each step. The metal doors parted for him when he reached them, and he marched up the hallway, ignoring the looks of stragglers lingering in the wings of the fortress.

He rounded the corner and stumbled into the closest door. Jet pressed his back into a wall and sighed. The crackling of electricity sizzled within the thick metal wiring of the wall. He listened to the sputtering and snapping within the tubing, which reminded him of his tribulations tuning an Extreme Gear.

Raking his fingers through his head fathers, Jet grabbed the doorknob. He twisted it and thrust the door wide open. The door slammed into the adjacent lockers, the clanging echoing in the otherwise silent room. Stepping inside, the scent of body spray assaulted his nostrils. Grimacing, he glared at the rows of identical teal blue lockers and wooden benches cemented to the tiled floor. He heard water dripping from faucets only silenced by his footsteps. As he barged deeper into the labyrinth of compartments, showers, and bathroom stalls, he discovered no one else inside when he reached his destination.

Jet stood in front of his locker. Emblazoned on a silver placard at the top was his name. Through the three slats in the center, gold shimmered in the form of medals presented to him by the Battle Lord. They twinkled like rare coins, coveted by all the birds in the Armada, their meager ranks so far below him that they were like worms in the soil.

He reached inside his boot for the key, but his face screwed up in distress. His shoulder throbbed, and the pain traveled up his arm to his head. A chain reaction of dull agony blossomed in his body. He rubbed his forehead, biting back his groan and squeezing his eyes shut as if he could pretend the pain did not exist.

Grunting, Jet punched the neighboring locker. His knuckles immediately ached, but he soothed him. It was better than enduring Kukku's blows in front of his lessers.

"Hey, Jettison, that's gonna leave a nasty mark! Or are you trying to break your hand?"

"Wha-?" Jet blurted, pivoting around on his heels. "Who the-?"

He deflated. All of his worries left him in a long, slow sigh. He narrowed his eyes on the shorter duck, one who fitted the bill of a generic Battle Bird Armada soldier.

Bean snickered. "Hey there, Jet! How are your glutes after Lord Cuckoo spanked 'em?" he asked, his inappropriate question earning a snort in return.

"I didn't see you in the Battle Lord's control room. Since you're all dolled up in that uniform, you just blend in with the crowd, huh?" Jet hissed, but Bean shook his finger.

"Oh, while I do rock the uniform, you're wrong, my equally emerald feathered friend!" He pointed to the ceiling, where the lights flickered. "I was watching through a vent."

"'A vent.'" Jet dragged his hand down his face. "You know what? Yeah. That checks out, you little nutjob."

Bean chortled and sidestepped Jet. He rapped his knuckles on the locker Jet attacked, and it swung open. Stored inside were a plethora of unlit bombs and sticks of dynamite. Hints of smoke wafted out and churned Jet's stomach. Bean rubbed his middle finger and thumb together, making the feathers on Jet's neck stand at attention, dreading the seconds as they passed.

"Pretty rude to hit mine, but I guess you didn't wanna damage those shiny medals inside yours, right?" Bean asked, rifling through his explosives. He snatched a ratty, red bandana and inspected it with one eye closed.

Jet rolled his eyes. "So what? Are you gonna do something about it?"

Humming, Bean tapped the underside of his beak. "Well, I could throw a bomb your way with a really short fuse. How's that sound?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't doesn't mean couldn't and doesn't mean shouldn't and doesn't mean daren't."

Shooting his arms out, Jet snapped, "What the heck does that mean?"

Bean cackled and tied his bandana around his neck. He flashed a bright grin at Jet, one that would have earned him a punch to the face at any other time. "Well, I guess you can say it doesn't matter if I blow you up 'cause I'm-"

The hinges on the locker room door creaked as it opened. The tall compartments obscured the intruder. Jet reached into his boot, snorting as Bean hummed, wondering aloud to know who had entered.

But before Jet could grab the key he secured in his sole, Bean puffed and blew air into his bangs. He reached into his locker, his fingers inching closer to an unlit bomb, and he silently observed the newcomer.

The sudden change in Bean's mannerisms caught Jet's attention. Bean's lunacy was renowned throughout the Armada. Even the Battle Lord had trouble controlling him. Nothing diminished his desire for chaos. The wild card named Bean slipped through the bars of his birdcage, coming and going as he pleased while Jet seethed within the confines of the fortified prison.

Jet looked over his shoulder. He arched a brow, asking, "And what do you want?"

Speedy focused his attention on Jet. In Jet's eyes, he was the photogenic soldier, a replica of his father. Back straight, shoulders squared, standing at his full height, it was enough to make Jet nearly laugh in his face.

"Hello, Jet. I'm glad to see you're only bruised," Speedy greeted, paying Bean no mind.

"Uh, hello? Your awesome bombs specialist is right here! Pay no attention to the duck behind the explosives, huh?" Bean sneered, waving his free hand between the taller birds.

Speedy snorted. "Mind your own business, Bean. I'm your superior. If I choose to ignore you, consider it a blessing."

Bean gripped the sides of his head and groaned. "Oh, here it comes! Buckle in for the lecture train from Baby Boy Kukku!"

Embarrassment colored Speedy's cheeks. He glared at Bean and grabbed his shoulder, shoving so hard Bean almost lost his footing. "Can it! I have important business with Jet." He jabbed his finger to the entrance. "You are dismissed."

He clicked his tongue. "You're not your daddy. I don't have to listen to you."

"You insolent-!" Speedy snatched Bean's bandana and dragged him to his face. He lowered his voice, snarling, "You want more time in the brig? Because I'll make you spend a year in there."

"I'll blow it up like I always do, and your dear, sweet papa will blame you," Bean remarked, yawning in his face.

Speedy's pupils constricted. His features seemed to elongate at the mention of his father. Jet knew that look. It was the expression of cornered prey with the shadow of a predator hovering over it.

Spittle flew from Speedy's beak as he roared, "Your gross insubordination will cost you!"

Bean stuck his fingers in his ears and cried, "Yada, yada, yada, Speedster!"

Jet's headache returned in full force as they shrieked. Listening to them argue was like having two banshees bellowing in his ears. He gritted his molars and squeezed his eyes shut. Insults volleyed between them and heightened the throbbing in Jet's bruised brow. Their squawking reached octaves Jet thought impossible. And if he heard them continue for another second, then not even the Battle Lord's fury would deter him from throttling them.

"As much as I'd love to hear you two duke it out," Jet sharply interjected, prompting Speedy to gasp and release Bean, "you want something with me, Speedy." He crossed his legs and leaned into the lockers, pressing his boot against the lower row. "You come in here to finish what the Battle Lord started?"

Speedy cleared his throat and resumed his stance. "I assure you that's not the case," he said as Bean massaged his neck. "I wanted to see if you were okay."

Jet's eyes widened. "You're joking."

"Do I look like a clown?" He hitched his thumb at Bean. "You must be mistaking me with him."

"I always said you lacked imagination and explosives," Bean countered, "so you can't be my doppelganger."

"Ignore the twerp," Jet ordered when Speedy shot a look at him. He shook his head, disbelief filling him from head to toe as Bean snapped that he was older than Jet. "Were you there?"

Speedy took a breath, his chest puffing out before he slowly exhaled it. "I was. My father requested my presence at your disciplinary hearing. He ordered me to stay out of sight."

His blood boiled at the thought of Speedy lurking in the shadows. He fathomed why Bean remained hidden. Bean was bizarre beyond rational thought. But Speedy was his father's right-hand soldier. If he wanted a lesson in pain, then he had been given a front-row seat and only needed a bag of salted popcorn to munch on as his father made an example out of Jet.

"Oh, perfect. Just perfect!" Jet stomped and balled his hands into tight fists. "Junior and the weirdo watched my public humiliation!" He cupped his hands around his beak. "Hey, does anyone else wanna come forward and laugh? Dr. Fuku-whatever, where are you? Get in on Jet's public humiliation round two!"

Speedy raised his hands, his glances too quick for the hawk's liking. "Jet, calm down! I'm-"

Jet jabbed his index finger at Speedy's chest. "Did you rat me out to the Battle Lord? 'Cause I know I've got a lot of complaints, but no one had the gall to snitch on me, and you're the only one he'll consider if there's a problem with a crony."

Speedy's eyes crossed at Jet's trembling finger. "You're upset. I understand," he said, resting his hand on Jet's wrist, but Jet yanked it to his hip. Speedy hesitated, gazing at the empty space that circled his palm. With another sigh, he promised, "I'll ignore that transgression. My father will never know."

"Touching. So, it wasn't you, right?" Jet growled, his knuckles beginning to ache.

"No. I just know there are a plethora of detrimental reports about you. All of them are anonymously signed."

Jet's heel crashed into a locker, the bang clamoring against the walls. Red crossed his vision, and he growled like a beast. He knew he couldn't trust a single bird in the Armada. "Every bird for himself, huh?"

"That's one way to put it, pally," Bean replied, patting Jet's back and nodding.

Speedy eyed Bean once more. "I want to talk to Jet alone about what happened, Bean. Leave immediately. That's an order from your next Battle Lord."

Bean picked at his ear. "Nnnope. I don't have to listen to you."

"Oh, for the love of-! Ignore him," Jet barked when Speedy raised his fist at Bean.

"Yeah, forget I'm here! I'll be like a chameleon. All ninja-like and invisible," Bean said, turning to his belongings. He rifled through his explosives, humming an off-key tune to himself. "Doo doo doo! Just organizing my stuff! Nothing to see here, folks! Pay no attention to the duck behind the curtain!" He paused. "Oh, wait, I already used that saying in a different context earlier. Hey, writer, I need new material!"

Perturbed, Speedy gestured for Jet to follow. Jet clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. The notion of obeying Speedy sickened him. Although he promised to overlook any sign of disobedience, Speedy was his father's son through and through. He followed wordlessly, each step like a consecutive stab in the back.

They took a spot together at the end of the farthest bench. Bean was still well with the range of their conversation, but he seemed to busy himself by organizing his explosives. Speedy glared a hole through the back of Bean's head, grumbling curses under his breath as metal clinked in Bean's locker.

"What's your deal with him?" Jet asked, resting his wounded leg on the bench.

Speedy dismissed his question with a wave of his hand. "It's all about lineage. I'll tell you some other time."

"Yeah, sure," he replied, making a mental note to ignore Speedy later. "So, you apologized on your dad's behalf. Why? It's not like you to try and make amends with your soldiers." He nudged his elbow in Bean's direction. "Exhibit A over there."

Speedy chuckled and shook his head. He gripped the edges of the bench. "I'm aware. It's not a good look for a future Battle Lord." He raised his hand, hesitated for a second, and then placed it on Jet's shoulder. Jet did not nudge him away, deciding to let him speak his peace. "You're remarkable, Jet. You rose through the ranks faster than any recruit I've ever seen, and I've lived here my entire life. All the while, you've earned the moniker of Legendary Wind Master."

Pride swelled in his chest. He smirked, brushing his hand through his head feathers. He crossed his leg over his knee and gripped his heel, leaning closer to Speedy, who tightened his grip.

Speedy's accolades almost reversed the palpitations in his bruised brow. The longer Speedy held his shoulder, the more his pain and humiliation intensified. Compliments and smiles couldn't cure what had happened between Jet and Kukku, and the sound of his bone cracking lingered in Jet's ears like an alarming song stuck in his head.

"Yeah, well, when you live as freely as I do, then you become the best," he said, smirking and shrugging. "Best thief, fastest thing alive, you name it, and I am it."

Speedy grinned. He loosened his grip, and Jet twisted his body to face the lockers. "You are amazing," he said, and he cleared his throat. "It's admirable what you've done for the Armada. If you'd like, then I can find out who snitched."

"And give 'em a piece of your mind?" Jet shook his head. "I'll pass. Besides…" He tossed his head back, a cackle straying from his throat. "...won't that go against what your dad wanted? To show you how to discipline someone who flies freely from the flock?"

The color drained from Speedy's face so quickly that Jet almost choked on his laughter. Speedy averted his gaze, searching for words that could never console or counter Jet's argument. He rubbed his arm, the sight pitiful and pathetic for the son of the Battle Lord, but Jet kept that thought to himself.

After all, Speedy had shown him kindness. It was more than he had ever considered for Speedy. He kept everyone in the Battle Bird Armada at arm's length. That way, although everyone restrained and suffocated him, smothering him with civility and duties, freedom was always one race away.

Bean cartwheeled over to them as soon as Speedy started to speak. He spread his arms out, exclaiming, "Tada! Ten points for Bean! Flawless victory!"

"And he's back," Jet mumbled, but to his surprise, in the time taken for him to talk with Speedy, Bean discarded his uniform. It was left in a pile of wrinkled fabric, scuffed boots, and broken shades. He only donned his bandana and a pair of worn, scarlet sneakers. Over his shoulder was a leather bag with buttons ready to fall off. "What's with the get-up?"

Speedy's fists clenched. He rose to his full height, saying, "All members of the Armada are supposed to wear their attire when on duty."

"But it's itchy! You guys never use enough starch," Bean whined and patted his bag. "Anyway, it's nap time for the Beanster. I had a long day of watching Jet get his butt kicked and listening to Speedy whine about nothing." He blew them both a kiss. "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!"

Bean pranced out of the locker room and slammed the door shut behind him. His laughter echoed hallways down. Neither of them missed his companionship and welcomed his departure with open arms.

Speedy shuddered. Revulsion etched onto his features. "Wretched duck. My father should've gotten rid of him ages ago."

"First time I've seen the guy out of uniform. Maybe it was itchy." Jet's response went unanswered. "Speedy?"

His head shook as if to clear the thoughts swirling with the force of a cyclone within his skull. "Oh, sorry. I suppose you haven't heard the rumors."

"And they are…?" Jet rotated his wrist, gesturing for him to continue.

Leaning closer, Speedy lowered his voice to a whisper. "Bean is planning to go rogue."

The word sent a chill down his spine and a rush of exhilaration in his bloodstream. His face froze in a mask of twisted emotions. Shock and awe forced his eyes to their widest points. Heat flushed his cheeks scarlet with jealousy and respect for someone who sought their own passions and thrills while he languished in the Armada.

"I can tell you're frustrated. I am, too. My father says that since he's never actively gone against orders, there's nothing to be done unless he commits treason," Speedy said, cocking his head. "Shocking to hear that Bean actually follows the rules, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, treason." Jet scratched his neck and eyed a corner of the room. "And even if Bean obeys directives, it doesn't mean he likes 'em."

Speedy leered at the tiles. His grip on the bench tightened enough for Jet to feel pressure underneath him. "I suppose that makes three of us," he whispered, and Jet decided not to hear him. He already had enough on Speedy to make his father explode in a wrathful fit. Accepting that piece of evidence would only imbue Jet with the smallest sentiment of guilt if he took a page out of Bean's book.

Instead of letting the silence linger, Jet stood up and arched his back. It cracked, and he grunted in relief. He massaged his shoulder, saying, "Well, I'm cool with you. It's your dad who I think needs to take a chill pill."

"I'll ask Dr. Fuku-who cares if he can prescribe my father medicine," Speedy replied, and Jet belted out a laugh that filled the room.

They shook hands. Jet's smile matched Speedy's grin with enough sincerity that he wondered if he had any talent as an actor. Speedy ordered him to rest for the remainder of the day. Jet accepted it with a mock salute, one that Speedy promised to overlook before leaving the locker room.

He must have felt satisfied enough with their conversation to leave Jet alone. Saying everything he needed to get off his chest left Jet scowling at his distorted reflection in the lockers as Speedy left. As soon as the door shut, Jet wiped his hand on his chest feathers and scoffed.

He returned to his locker, shoved the key inside, and heaved it open. He didn't care about the medals or assignments filling it. His attention focused on his Extreme Gear coated in fresh paint and modified to outlast any standard model belonging to the Armada. Running his hand along the smooth edge, Jet puffed out a laugh and pressed his brow to his locker.

"Rogue," he crooned and clutched his board, "what a fantastic idea."

this fic references the rivalry between bean and speedy that jon gray discussed in the anthology of the tails adventure. an idea was thrown around that the two were cousins with feuding fathers, leading to an intense dislike for each other. speedy's consideration and caring for jet comes from his own admiration. he views jet as free as the wind, but jet is tethered to the armada like he is - despite his attempts for personal freedom. bean, however, is uncontrollable. even if he is a member of the battle bird armada, bean can leave whenever he wants. so can jet, but speedy is bogged down by his father. his weak, tearful "take me with you" when said to jet, someone he DEEPLY admired, before the babylon rogues took off really struck a chord with me. since that backstory was never disproven in the post super genesis wave, i headcanon that the same events that led to the rogues abandoning the armada transpired, and jet's betrayal deeply hurt speedy. as for jet, i followed more of his nature presented in the comics. he is more selfish here than he is in the games. he looks out for himself (and later on, wave and storm) and dislikes weakness. he believes he is above the armada, above rules and regulations, but he had trouble finding his footing of how to leave, unlike bean who, with is brand of impracticality, road out the armada until he got sick of it. these three are all fascinating characters in archie, and i wish we saw their arcs collide again. also speedy had a crush on jet you can't convince me otherwise lol.