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 occured, I'd actually be
quite flattered. Thank you, and enjoy.
______________
The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
______________
~----~
~Mission Five: Unleash the Birds of War~
~----~
"My Lord, the invasion has commenced."
"Progress?"
"Undeniably superior compared to the first invasion. Forces stationed in Macro Land's Orange Star region are already nearing its capital. It should be only a matter of hours."
"And?"
"The same can be said for the other countries. There has been little resistance from the Green Earth military thus far, but we're expecting that to change in the near future. As for Blue Moon and Yellow Comet, the progress is comparable to that of Orange Star. Not only that, but many enemy troops are surrendering, some to our cause. What better weapon is there than to turn an enemy into an ally?"
"Do not waste words of advice on me, Admiral. You forget who your superior is in this matter."
"Yes, My Lord."
--------
"How long has it been? Three months?"
"Beats me." Glenn Gordon knew quite well that Tuxedo was probably right. It HAD probably been somewhere in the vicinity of three months since he'd joined the Thunderbolts and had been placed in command of the squadron due to the untimely demise of Knives. Glenn didn't really find keeping up to date on such things necessary; he preferred the memories to the official reports and dates. Besides, did it matter how long ago it was? It really made no difference anymore. Tuxedo just liked to hear his own voice, and talked of such things that didn't actually need to be talked about, whether it was when or where this or that battle happened, why the sky was blue, or why the cheese in his burger was such a strange color.
Glenn brought his right leg up and propped one black boot onto the table while he sat there in a chair in the Washington Air Base's relaxation lounge. He was trying to read a book, particularly a western since he had a soft spot for 'spaghetti-western' tales of old Orange Star, but noisy old Tuxedo Ral wouldn't shut his big trap, despite knowing full well Glenn was trying to concentrate.
The pilot sighed. Why did Tux bring up such things, especially when Glenn was trying to relax? He began to finger at the pages of the book unconciously while debating whether or not to not-so-kindly inform the other loudmouthed pilot of his unnecessary noise levels, but his mind began to wander back to when Knives had been killed.
Glenn had been placed in command of the squadron immediately thereafter and had been given the rank of 2nd Lieutenant later that week for no other reason than that he had more flight experience than anyone else. Beauregard felt all of the Thunderbolts were exceptional pilots, but sometimes, in his words or speeches, there were hints every now in then that he favored Gordon. Something about 'leadership qualities,' or 'excellent records,' or perhaps even 'nice attitude.' Glenn never knew what to think of it. The very last thing he wanted was for every one else in the squadron to look at him like a damned teacher's pet, but Beauregard seemed intent at accomplishing what Glenn didn't want happening.
And what was worse was that Glenn hadn't gotten many chances to really prove that he had leadership qualities at all. Ever since the dogfight over the Blue Moon rocket base, negotiations had begun between Orange Star and Blue Moon, serious ones at that. Orange Star head-honchos had agreed to give Blue Moon the resource Olaf wanted so badly so long as the fighting ceased. To Glenn, that hadn't been a satisfactory conclusion to the border conflicts. When a dogfight like that one occured, one would assume it would lead to war. Apparently, thanks to bigwigs at the Orange Star capital, no such thing would be occuring. Gordon was thankful for that, but was irate at the same time for obvious reasons.
Tuxedo interrupted Glenn's involuntary thinking with another blatant disregard for the giant "Quiet Please" sign on the nearby wall. "God almighty, I don't think I've ever been this bored around here. Are we goin' up today or not?"
Rolling his eyes ever so slightly, Glenn glanced towards a window.
"I seriously doubt it," he commented while watching the heavy downpour. Glenn liked rain, personally; he'd never seen enough of it growing up in a dry region of Green Earth, but Tuxedo seemed to loathe it for some reason or another. Rumor around the base had it he'd been struck by lightning a couple of times. Tux always denied it, but Glenn found it to be a likely explanation since it would account for the man's downright hideous behavior.
"They oughta put a game system in here or something. With lots of video games, too. I like them strategy games." And Tux went right into a long- winded speech about games or some such nonsense.
Halfway through it, Glenn prepared to begin strangling the other pilot until both their teeth rattled, but Bubba Boggs and Tristan Royal both entered the lounge's door just before their squad leader went off the deep end. Gordon regained whatever composure he may have had before they entered and propped both feet up onto the table now, as though he'd been relaxing the entire time. "Hey, guys."
Tux didn't stop babbling, he only nodded to the newcomers while trying to refrain from straying off in his side-winding tale.
Tristan sat down next to Glenn while Bubba was forced to sit next to the obnoxious bigmouth no longer going on about games but how he lost his car keys one day and found them in Cassie's purse. Gordon couldn't help but eye Tristan for a moment.
Everytime I see that kid, he thought to himself, he looks more and more out of place among us.
Tristan was seventeen years of age, and if anything he looked younger than that. As far as Glenn was concerned, the air force was no place for a minor to be, especially in the seat of one of those jets outside getting soaked. He'd never bothered actually coming out and telling anyone of his negative feelings, though, nor had he ever given any hints about it. Glenn preferred to keep things straight and forward. It made things easier in life, which was hard enough without having to look for a whole bunch of clues in what other people were saying. Besides, Tristan was as good a pilot as any of them, and while he hadn't gotten up in the air as often as he'd have liked, he'd proved how good he was in the simulations. It would seem that the newest addition to the Thunderbolts was not completely without piloting skill.
On the other hand, he didn't have as much respect as the others, and everyone abused this knowledge, especially Tuxedo.
"Hey," the human noisemaker suddenly interrupted himself to comment on Tristan's presence, "did they let daycare out already?"
Glenn gave Tux a hard look. He knew the excessively obnoxious pilot was only kidding, since he was certainly as good-hearted as the rest of them, but sometimes, Glenn just wished he'd shut up for a change.
Still, Tristan would have to learn to deal with this. The kid would be better because of it, in the end, and Glenn had the feeling this was something Tuxedo knew, even if he wouldn't have readily admitted it at the moment.
"I don't know, why don't you go check?" It was obvious that Tristan was trying to force himself to stand up to such negative verbal abuse. "You seem to belong at a daycare sometimes along with the rest of the little kids."
But he couldn't beat someone who as a master at dishing negative verbal abuse. "Oh, gimme a break. You couldn't flame a meat patty at Burger King if you worked there, and I'm not too sure you don't."
Tristan coughed slightly and looked down to the floor, having quickly lost the battle of words. There wouldn't have been anything he could have said that would have gotten the smug smirk off Tux's face anyway. Glenn and Bubba grinned at each other, still knowing noisy old Tuxedo Ral was just messing around with the kid, who unfortunately didn't seem to fully realize this, as he was now just sitting there, his face red with both embarrassment and a huffy attitude.
"So, where's Rainey at?"
Glenn's sudden question caught the attention of everyone at the table, causing him to soon look just as uncomfortable as the kid sitting next to him.
"Why do you wanna know?" Tux said in the most sly, weasely voice any of them had ever heard in their lives.
"It was just a question," the squad leader uttered, trying to refrain from glaring at the unmanageable pilot sitting across from him. "She and I are good friends."
"Ri-i-i-ight."
Tux was giving him the most dastardly grin now, and it made Glenn angry. Chafed, the Thunderbolt leader rose from his seat in pure turbulence, but quickly made for the soda machine as an excuse. He should have known better than to take Tuxedo's annoying commentary seriously. "Lordamighty, Tux, I don't like her like that, what's the matter with you? Romance between military folk is against regulations, if I recall correctly."
He finally glared at Tux. "You know, you and Cass' need to learn that yourselves. Rainey has to come into our room every night because you go stumblin' into her's and Cassie's, drunk as a hyena and waking up all of Creation. The poor girl has to come over to my room every night to actually get some sleep."
It was easy enough to tell that Tux wanted to blurt out the most obvious remark any of them could have come up with after Glenn finished with something like that, but for once, the Jester of the Thunderbolts kept his big mouth closed, knowing his squad leader wouldn't be terribly amused.
Bubba finally spoke, offering his own observation on the subject of Glenn and Rainey Banker. "Well, Fishmouth here has point, Gordo'. I do see you with her, and quite often, might I add. Hell, you went off-base and had lunch with her yesterday."
"See?" Tux crossed his arms. "Fat-head's seen you with her too. What's goin' on here, Glenn?"
Glenn was ready to tell him to hush up, but then Tristan piped in, suddenly becoming aware of the conversation. "Yeah, Glenn, what's up with this?"
The squadron leader finally broke, and like glass. "What goes on between her and I is none of your damned business, and I'd appreciate it if you noserubbers would quit gawking at the two of us to see what we were doing all the time. I assure you, nothing like that is happening, and nothing like that ever WILL happen. Rainey and I are merely good friends, and that's how it's going to stay."
The three at the table said nothing, definitely knowing Glenn was seriously trying to tell them to shut up. A long silence ensued.
"She is real purty though," Tux finally said, as quiet as was possible for him, which wasn't very quiet at all.
Glenn just sighed.
Before the conversation could start all over again, this time with Glenn grabbing Tux in a headlock, the door to the lounge flew open and one of the Washington Air Base's clerks burst in. He appeared to be in quite a tizzy. "Everyone, get to the briefing room, immediately!"
Everyone stared at him.
"What in hell for?" Bubba jerked a thumb towards the window and the heavy rainfall that was still occuring. "We're not going up in this weather, are we?"
"Just get to the briefing room NOW, guys. I'm not kidding." The clerk sure didn't look as though he were kidding, that was obvious. "All pilots stationed here are ordered to do so IMMEDIATELY. Get going!"
And he was gone. The four pilots just hesitated for a moment, trying to take a second to figure out for themselves what on Wars World could be so horribly important that all of them had to, as the clerk put it, 'get to the briefing room NOW.' Glenn personally figured it was some renegade Blue Mooner who'd gotten lost and had to be escorted back to wherever he had to go, but. . . If that were so, why would it be so imperative that they all get moving as soon as possible?
Well, it would all be sorted out. Eventually, the four of them made for the said room, where all of the pilots stationed at Washington already sat boredly. Glenn took a seat and looked at the large table in the center of the room. Commander Beauregard was busy talking with a few people, one of whom Glenn recognized as one of Orange Star's military Advisors. What the heck was he doing here? What was so important?
Beauregard finally stepped towards the podium to address the pilots. Finally, Glenn thought, we'll get some answers here.
"I'll be frank," the Commander stated, his voice trying to sound bold yet coming off as being the bearer of ill news, "though I say so with great pity for us all."
Glenn just blinked in confusion. What in blue blazes was happening? Was a tornado the size of Yellow Comet headed for Washington? Was Beauregard's cat missing again? Was a bearded lady with wings and tomahawk missiles for spit flying around in the sky? Gordon wished this to be over with already.
"We've recieved word from the Orange Star capital that our region in Macro Land is under attack. It looks to be an all-out invasion of our portion of the continent."
Blue Moon, Glenn immediately thought. But he would quickly realize that he and everyone else who were thinking the same were all wrong.
"Eyewitness reports from troops in the region do not believe the attackers are of Blue Moon origin," Beauregard continued, "but are an unknown force, clad in black, metal armor and with technology reasonably similar yet superior to ours. The resources of the enemy thus far seem limitless."
The Commander let this sink in to all of the pilots sitting in the room. Then he added what everyone feared.
"The Commanding Officers and Advisors stationed on the front and in the capital have come to the conclusion that the attackers are of Black Hole allegiance."
No one said anything. One or two looked to be on the verge of crying. Many more looked irate.
Glenn didn't know what to think or feel. He hadn't been in combat against Black Hole in the first war between it and the countries, but some of the stories he'd inevitably heard about the rogue nation weren't overly pleasant. Rumors of the Black Hole leader being a brilliant, fearsome mastermind scraped at his memory along with tales of Black Hole forces themselves being tireless, relentless, and fully capable of bringing about God knows how much destruction, causing his stomach to quickly feel like the inside of a cement mixer.
"The current situation looks rough. As I speak, Black Hole continues its invasion, and much of the region has fallen already. We don't know how long ago this all began, perhaps a matter of hours before this very moment. Right now, they've taken about half of the nation, having come mostly from the north. Currently, our forces are desperately trying to hold onto the south, but it doesn't look very positive.
"We are to leave as soon as possible for the Macro continent. I want all of you to store anything personal of yours away in the basement lockers, and then get your gear all packed up. We'll have a transport jet waiting outside on the tarmac within thirty minutes. Be ready by then. Let's move!"
Glenn did indeed move, but he felt like a robot while doing so. He was going to war again, this time with an enemy he didn't even know much about. He winced at the very thought. Glenn certainly knew how to fight, but he never looked forward to it. Anyone that did was either insane or a taint on the human race, as far as he was concerned. Who knew what was going to happen now?
He realized just how big this was. He and the seven other pilots in his squadron were going to assist in an attempt to save Orange Star if not the world from brutal alien rule. There was no way to describe how his heart felt as he thought that. One thing was certain: he felt positively miserable.
Within thirty minutes, Glenn was ready to go. The baggage pack issued to him by the air base carried his flight gear, other equipment, and one or two personal belongings, including a small, silver necklace with the Cross on it. It had been given to him by Dario Yossarian when Glenn had been in the Green Earth Air Force, and while Glenn had never given such things much thought, he still felt the necklace gave him good luck in the air. Besides, one couldn't go wrong when they had Someone upstairs watching out for them.
He slipped on his military cap and headed out a pair of doors, out onto the very open and now wet area that was the tarmac takeoff-landing scene. The transport jet was already there, waiting for them, and Beauregard and a few other officials stood by it, impatiently awaiting all of the pilots stationed at Washington to get their butts in gear. Glenn quickly noticed he hadn't been the first out the doors. He spied Rainey Banker and Marcus Madison standing there already, looking just as strained and ill-at-ease as Glenn.
The squad leader stepped up to the jet and stood next to the lot of them, recieving salutes from Rainey and Marcus on sight. He returned the gesture and stood in line next to them, waiting for the mobile staircase to arrive so they could get on the plane.
Eventually, everyone was there, ready and waiting. The staircase was pushed up towards the now-opened door, and those in line proceeded to ascend them, their gait less-than-ecstatic. Glenn was on-board soon enough, and sat in one of the plane's rough, uncomfortable seats near the front.
He carefully watched everyone else board the plane and move past him in the aisle, eyeing their faces to see if they looked as dejected as he did. Most of them did, except for Crazy Bob, the basic loony of the Washington pilots. Glenn found most of their expressions quite similar to his own, or how he felt he looked, anyway. Going off and leaving everything one loves and owns behind to go fight a war wasn't the happiest of feelings. He could see where the feelings came from: he'd had to leave his home in Green Earth to go and fight the Blue Mooners - and even the Orange Stars, at one point, when old Eagle felt Commanding Officer Andy of the Stars was to blame for the attacks on the country at that time. Glenn did indeed know how most of them felt.
But before he could begin feeling any more depressed than already, Rainey took the middle seat, sitting down next to him. She tried to give him a smile, but wasn't very successful. "Hey."
"Mm," he mumbled in response, looking out the less-than-spacious window at the rain.
They could feel the plane begin to power up. No one said anything.
Finally, when they began to taxi onto the runway, Rainey put a hand on his. "Everything's gonna be okay."
Glenn's gaze didn't falter from the window even the slightest as they felt the plane lurched up into the air. "I hope so."
--------
Author Notes:
Please don't kill me. I know it's been a while. Well, okay, more than a while. My interest in this story did indeed fall, especially when more video games than I'm worth came out and grabbed my attention (all at ill- positioned intervals, keeping me from coming back to this). But I've been thinking that Glenn deserves a better fate than to be left hanging in the middle of some lamely-unfinished fic, lost in the middle of fanfiction.net, so here's another chapter, despite the fact I haven't even played or gotten AW2 yet. I will within the next two weeks, more than likely, considering I NEED it to actually know where I'm going with this thing. Don't worry - this thing WILL be updated again sooner or later. I really don't want to leave it unfinished like so many of my other stories. In any case, thanks for reading, and I do hope you'll "R" since you've already "R"ed. You know. "R+R". Get it? ... ... Ah, hell...
______________
The Fighters - Part II
By RustyD
______________
~----~
~Mission Five: Unleash the Birds of War~
~----~
"My Lord, the invasion has commenced."
"Progress?"
"Undeniably superior compared to the first invasion. Forces stationed in Macro Land's Orange Star region are already nearing its capital. It should be only a matter of hours."
"And?"
"The same can be said for the other countries. There has been little resistance from the Green Earth military thus far, but we're expecting that to change in the near future. As for Blue Moon and Yellow Comet, the progress is comparable to that of Orange Star. Not only that, but many enemy troops are surrendering, some to our cause. What better weapon is there than to turn an enemy into an ally?"
"Do not waste words of advice on me, Admiral. You forget who your superior is in this matter."
"Yes, My Lord."
--------
"How long has it been? Three months?"
"Beats me." Glenn Gordon knew quite well that Tuxedo was probably right. It HAD probably been somewhere in the vicinity of three months since he'd joined the Thunderbolts and had been placed in command of the squadron due to the untimely demise of Knives. Glenn didn't really find keeping up to date on such things necessary; he preferred the memories to the official reports and dates. Besides, did it matter how long ago it was? It really made no difference anymore. Tuxedo just liked to hear his own voice, and talked of such things that didn't actually need to be talked about, whether it was when or where this or that battle happened, why the sky was blue, or why the cheese in his burger was such a strange color.
Glenn brought his right leg up and propped one black boot onto the table while he sat there in a chair in the Washington Air Base's relaxation lounge. He was trying to read a book, particularly a western since he had a soft spot for 'spaghetti-western' tales of old Orange Star, but noisy old Tuxedo Ral wouldn't shut his big trap, despite knowing full well Glenn was trying to concentrate.
The pilot sighed. Why did Tux bring up such things, especially when Glenn was trying to relax? He began to finger at the pages of the book unconciously while debating whether or not to not-so-kindly inform the other loudmouthed pilot of his unnecessary noise levels, but his mind began to wander back to when Knives had been killed.
Glenn had been placed in command of the squadron immediately thereafter and had been given the rank of 2nd Lieutenant later that week for no other reason than that he had more flight experience than anyone else. Beauregard felt all of the Thunderbolts were exceptional pilots, but sometimes, in his words or speeches, there were hints every now in then that he favored Gordon. Something about 'leadership qualities,' or 'excellent records,' or perhaps even 'nice attitude.' Glenn never knew what to think of it. The very last thing he wanted was for every one else in the squadron to look at him like a damned teacher's pet, but Beauregard seemed intent at accomplishing what Glenn didn't want happening.
And what was worse was that Glenn hadn't gotten many chances to really prove that he had leadership qualities at all. Ever since the dogfight over the Blue Moon rocket base, negotiations had begun between Orange Star and Blue Moon, serious ones at that. Orange Star head-honchos had agreed to give Blue Moon the resource Olaf wanted so badly so long as the fighting ceased. To Glenn, that hadn't been a satisfactory conclusion to the border conflicts. When a dogfight like that one occured, one would assume it would lead to war. Apparently, thanks to bigwigs at the Orange Star capital, no such thing would be occuring. Gordon was thankful for that, but was irate at the same time for obvious reasons.
Tuxedo interrupted Glenn's involuntary thinking with another blatant disregard for the giant "Quiet Please" sign on the nearby wall. "God almighty, I don't think I've ever been this bored around here. Are we goin' up today or not?"
Rolling his eyes ever so slightly, Glenn glanced towards a window.
"I seriously doubt it," he commented while watching the heavy downpour. Glenn liked rain, personally; he'd never seen enough of it growing up in a dry region of Green Earth, but Tuxedo seemed to loathe it for some reason or another. Rumor around the base had it he'd been struck by lightning a couple of times. Tux always denied it, but Glenn found it to be a likely explanation since it would account for the man's downright hideous behavior.
"They oughta put a game system in here or something. With lots of video games, too. I like them strategy games." And Tux went right into a long- winded speech about games or some such nonsense.
Halfway through it, Glenn prepared to begin strangling the other pilot until both their teeth rattled, but Bubba Boggs and Tristan Royal both entered the lounge's door just before their squad leader went off the deep end. Gordon regained whatever composure he may have had before they entered and propped both feet up onto the table now, as though he'd been relaxing the entire time. "Hey, guys."
Tux didn't stop babbling, he only nodded to the newcomers while trying to refrain from straying off in his side-winding tale.
Tristan sat down next to Glenn while Bubba was forced to sit next to the obnoxious bigmouth no longer going on about games but how he lost his car keys one day and found them in Cassie's purse. Gordon couldn't help but eye Tristan for a moment.
Everytime I see that kid, he thought to himself, he looks more and more out of place among us.
Tristan was seventeen years of age, and if anything he looked younger than that. As far as Glenn was concerned, the air force was no place for a minor to be, especially in the seat of one of those jets outside getting soaked. He'd never bothered actually coming out and telling anyone of his negative feelings, though, nor had he ever given any hints about it. Glenn preferred to keep things straight and forward. It made things easier in life, which was hard enough without having to look for a whole bunch of clues in what other people were saying. Besides, Tristan was as good a pilot as any of them, and while he hadn't gotten up in the air as often as he'd have liked, he'd proved how good he was in the simulations. It would seem that the newest addition to the Thunderbolts was not completely without piloting skill.
On the other hand, he didn't have as much respect as the others, and everyone abused this knowledge, especially Tuxedo.
"Hey," the human noisemaker suddenly interrupted himself to comment on Tristan's presence, "did they let daycare out already?"
Glenn gave Tux a hard look. He knew the excessively obnoxious pilot was only kidding, since he was certainly as good-hearted as the rest of them, but sometimes, Glenn just wished he'd shut up for a change.
Still, Tristan would have to learn to deal with this. The kid would be better because of it, in the end, and Glenn had the feeling this was something Tuxedo knew, even if he wouldn't have readily admitted it at the moment.
"I don't know, why don't you go check?" It was obvious that Tristan was trying to force himself to stand up to such negative verbal abuse. "You seem to belong at a daycare sometimes along with the rest of the little kids."
But he couldn't beat someone who as a master at dishing negative verbal abuse. "Oh, gimme a break. You couldn't flame a meat patty at Burger King if you worked there, and I'm not too sure you don't."
Tristan coughed slightly and looked down to the floor, having quickly lost the battle of words. There wouldn't have been anything he could have said that would have gotten the smug smirk off Tux's face anyway. Glenn and Bubba grinned at each other, still knowing noisy old Tuxedo Ral was just messing around with the kid, who unfortunately didn't seem to fully realize this, as he was now just sitting there, his face red with both embarrassment and a huffy attitude.
"So, where's Rainey at?"
Glenn's sudden question caught the attention of everyone at the table, causing him to soon look just as uncomfortable as the kid sitting next to him.
"Why do you wanna know?" Tux said in the most sly, weasely voice any of them had ever heard in their lives.
"It was just a question," the squad leader uttered, trying to refrain from glaring at the unmanageable pilot sitting across from him. "She and I are good friends."
"Ri-i-i-ight."
Tux was giving him the most dastardly grin now, and it made Glenn angry. Chafed, the Thunderbolt leader rose from his seat in pure turbulence, but quickly made for the soda machine as an excuse. He should have known better than to take Tuxedo's annoying commentary seriously. "Lordamighty, Tux, I don't like her like that, what's the matter with you? Romance between military folk is against regulations, if I recall correctly."
He finally glared at Tux. "You know, you and Cass' need to learn that yourselves. Rainey has to come into our room every night because you go stumblin' into her's and Cassie's, drunk as a hyena and waking up all of Creation. The poor girl has to come over to my room every night to actually get some sleep."
It was easy enough to tell that Tux wanted to blurt out the most obvious remark any of them could have come up with after Glenn finished with something like that, but for once, the Jester of the Thunderbolts kept his big mouth closed, knowing his squad leader wouldn't be terribly amused.
Bubba finally spoke, offering his own observation on the subject of Glenn and Rainey Banker. "Well, Fishmouth here has point, Gordo'. I do see you with her, and quite often, might I add. Hell, you went off-base and had lunch with her yesterday."
"See?" Tux crossed his arms. "Fat-head's seen you with her too. What's goin' on here, Glenn?"
Glenn was ready to tell him to hush up, but then Tristan piped in, suddenly becoming aware of the conversation. "Yeah, Glenn, what's up with this?"
The squadron leader finally broke, and like glass. "What goes on between her and I is none of your damned business, and I'd appreciate it if you noserubbers would quit gawking at the two of us to see what we were doing all the time. I assure you, nothing like that is happening, and nothing like that ever WILL happen. Rainey and I are merely good friends, and that's how it's going to stay."
The three at the table said nothing, definitely knowing Glenn was seriously trying to tell them to shut up. A long silence ensued.
"She is real purty though," Tux finally said, as quiet as was possible for him, which wasn't very quiet at all.
Glenn just sighed.
Before the conversation could start all over again, this time with Glenn grabbing Tux in a headlock, the door to the lounge flew open and one of the Washington Air Base's clerks burst in. He appeared to be in quite a tizzy. "Everyone, get to the briefing room, immediately!"
Everyone stared at him.
"What in hell for?" Bubba jerked a thumb towards the window and the heavy rainfall that was still occuring. "We're not going up in this weather, are we?"
"Just get to the briefing room NOW, guys. I'm not kidding." The clerk sure didn't look as though he were kidding, that was obvious. "All pilots stationed here are ordered to do so IMMEDIATELY. Get going!"
And he was gone. The four pilots just hesitated for a moment, trying to take a second to figure out for themselves what on Wars World could be so horribly important that all of them had to, as the clerk put it, 'get to the briefing room NOW.' Glenn personally figured it was some renegade Blue Mooner who'd gotten lost and had to be escorted back to wherever he had to go, but. . . If that were so, why would it be so imperative that they all get moving as soon as possible?
Well, it would all be sorted out. Eventually, the four of them made for the said room, where all of the pilots stationed at Washington already sat boredly. Glenn took a seat and looked at the large table in the center of the room. Commander Beauregard was busy talking with a few people, one of whom Glenn recognized as one of Orange Star's military Advisors. What the heck was he doing here? What was so important?
Beauregard finally stepped towards the podium to address the pilots. Finally, Glenn thought, we'll get some answers here.
"I'll be frank," the Commander stated, his voice trying to sound bold yet coming off as being the bearer of ill news, "though I say so with great pity for us all."
Glenn just blinked in confusion. What in blue blazes was happening? Was a tornado the size of Yellow Comet headed for Washington? Was Beauregard's cat missing again? Was a bearded lady with wings and tomahawk missiles for spit flying around in the sky? Gordon wished this to be over with already.
"We've recieved word from the Orange Star capital that our region in Macro Land is under attack. It looks to be an all-out invasion of our portion of the continent."
Blue Moon, Glenn immediately thought. But he would quickly realize that he and everyone else who were thinking the same were all wrong.
"Eyewitness reports from troops in the region do not believe the attackers are of Blue Moon origin," Beauregard continued, "but are an unknown force, clad in black, metal armor and with technology reasonably similar yet superior to ours. The resources of the enemy thus far seem limitless."
The Commander let this sink in to all of the pilots sitting in the room. Then he added what everyone feared.
"The Commanding Officers and Advisors stationed on the front and in the capital have come to the conclusion that the attackers are of Black Hole allegiance."
No one said anything. One or two looked to be on the verge of crying. Many more looked irate.
Glenn didn't know what to think or feel. He hadn't been in combat against Black Hole in the first war between it and the countries, but some of the stories he'd inevitably heard about the rogue nation weren't overly pleasant. Rumors of the Black Hole leader being a brilliant, fearsome mastermind scraped at his memory along with tales of Black Hole forces themselves being tireless, relentless, and fully capable of bringing about God knows how much destruction, causing his stomach to quickly feel like the inside of a cement mixer.
"The current situation looks rough. As I speak, Black Hole continues its invasion, and much of the region has fallen already. We don't know how long ago this all began, perhaps a matter of hours before this very moment. Right now, they've taken about half of the nation, having come mostly from the north. Currently, our forces are desperately trying to hold onto the south, but it doesn't look very positive.
"We are to leave as soon as possible for the Macro continent. I want all of you to store anything personal of yours away in the basement lockers, and then get your gear all packed up. We'll have a transport jet waiting outside on the tarmac within thirty minutes. Be ready by then. Let's move!"
Glenn did indeed move, but he felt like a robot while doing so. He was going to war again, this time with an enemy he didn't even know much about. He winced at the very thought. Glenn certainly knew how to fight, but he never looked forward to it. Anyone that did was either insane or a taint on the human race, as far as he was concerned. Who knew what was going to happen now?
He realized just how big this was. He and the seven other pilots in his squadron were going to assist in an attempt to save Orange Star if not the world from brutal alien rule. There was no way to describe how his heart felt as he thought that. One thing was certain: he felt positively miserable.
Within thirty minutes, Glenn was ready to go. The baggage pack issued to him by the air base carried his flight gear, other equipment, and one or two personal belongings, including a small, silver necklace with the Cross on it. It had been given to him by Dario Yossarian when Glenn had been in the Green Earth Air Force, and while Glenn had never given such things much thought, he still felt the necklace gave him good luck in the air. Besides, one couldn't go wrong when they had Someone upstairs watching out for them.
He slipped on his military cap and headed out a pair of doors, out onto the very open and now wet area that was the tarmac takeoff-landing scene. The transport jet was already there, waiting for them, and Beauregard and a few other officials stood by it, impatiently awaiting all of the pilots stationed at Washington to get their butts in gear. Glenn quickly noticed he hadn't been the first out the doors. He spied Rainey Banker and Marcus Madison standing there already, looking just as strained and ill-at-ease as Glenn.
The squad leader stepped up to the jet and stood next to the lot of them, recieving salutes from Rainey and Marcus on sight. He returned the gesture and stood in line next to them, waiting for the mobile staircase to arrive so they could get on the plane.
Eventually, everyone was there, ready and waiting. The staircase was pushed up towards the now-opened door, and those in line proceeded to ascend them, their gait less-than-ecstatic. Glenn was on-board soon enough, and sat in one of the plane's rough, uncomfortable seats near the front.
He carefully watched everyone else board the plane and move past him in the aisle, eyeing their faces to see if they looked as dejected as he did. Most of them did, except for Crazy Bob, the basic loony of the Washington pilots. Glenn found most of their expressions quite similar to his own, or how he felt he looked, anyway. Going off and leaving everything one loves and owns behind to go fight a war wasn't the happiest of feelings. He could see where the feelings came from: he'd had to leave his home in Green Earth to go and fight the Blue Mooners - and even the Orange Stars, at one point, when old Eagle felt Commanding Officer Andy of the Stars was to blame for the attacks on the country at that time. Glenn did indeed know how most of them felt.
But before he could begin feeling any more depressed than already, Rainey took the middle seat, sitting down next to him. She tried to give him a smile, but wasn't very successful. "Hey."
"Mm," he mumbled in response, looking out the less-than-spacious window at the rain.
They could feel the plane begin to power up. No one said anything.
Finally, when they began to taxi onto the runway, Rainey put a hand on his. "Everything's gonna be okay."
Glenn's gaze didn't falter from the window even the slightest as they felt the plane lurched up into the air. "I hope so."
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Author Notes:
Please don't kill me. I know it's been a while. Well, okay, more than a while. My interest in this story did indeed fall, especially when more video games than I'm worth came out and grabbed my attention (all at ill- positioned intervals, keeping me from coming back to this). But I've been thinking that Glenn deserves a better fate than to be left hanging in the middle of some lamely-unfinished fic, lost in the middle of fanfiction.net, so here's another chapter, despite the fact I haven't even played or gotten AW2 yet. I will within the next two weeks, more than likely, considering I NEED it to actually know where I'm going with this thing. Don't worry - this thing WILL be updated again sooner or later. I really don't want to leave it unfinished like so many of my other stories. In any case, thanks for reading, and I do hope you'll "R" since you've already "R"ed. You know. "R+R". Get it? ... ... Ah, hell...