I'm really glad to see so many people have been enjoying the story so far! The Reviews are great to see. Speaking of which.

Ghostly to answer a few questions you had. Trigger and Prez's plane...It is and isn't a Strike Wyvern. All of the planes at the 444 base are junkers, they have the shell of certain planes, but Avril has to work with what she has, and sometimes she won't have every part she needs. We'll see where things go with Crimson 1. And last but not least, Trigger's instructor is a secret for now, buuuut, there have been some hints here and there ever since chapter 1. It's a long way to the reveal though.

I hope you all enjoy the next couple chapters! We're almost caught up.

"Hmmmmmmmmm…"

"You know…staring at it won't do anything. Right?"

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…"

"Trigger…"

Surely there was a different way to handle this.

"Hey Dumbass!"

"Hmmm?" He turned to look at Prez and Avril.

Avril smirked. "I win."

Prez frowned slightly, handing over some cash. "Fine, Fine."

"You enjoying staring at the wing so much Trigger? You could sit and chat with us."

"Uggggghhhh…Less talking…please." Tabloid groaned in pain. His face buried in a pile of rags as he laid on the ground behind where Prez and Avril were sitting. He had claimed it as his place in the hanger for that day. "My head feels like it's going to explode."

"Did you learn your lesson about chugging moonshine?" Prez poked him in the back.

There was a long pause before Tabloid let out a deep sigh. "Yes…"

Trigger went back to looking at the wing with a chuckle. Crimson One's missile had messed up the nice paint on the right wing of their X-02. He had put in a request for gray paint the day before…but, turns out there was no gray paint.

Prez huffed as she rested her elbows on her knees. "I know Trigger, it's bullshit. But what are we supposed to do? Root around in storage?"

Trigger's eyes brightened slightly and he looked at Prez.

"No. No, no, no. Not only is it off limits to us, but that place is a fucking mess. We'd never find anything."

Avril sighed as well. "You're telling me, I have to go there all the time. No organization, no records. I can't even find paint for my current project! So it just looks like scrap." She pauses. "Well…It is right now…but you get my point. The dumbasses here don't keep any records, so I don't even know whats coming in for shipments."

Tabloid lifted his head up slightly. "The F-14? In hanger Five?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Ah…it's looking pretty good though." He frowned, then buried his head into the rags again, groaning slightly.

Avril chuckled slightly. "I mean…it doesn't have engines at all, but thank you for the compliment Tabloid."

"Welcome…" he groaned again. "This is the worst hangover I've ever had."

Trigger walked back over with a roll of his eyes and took a sip of water from his canteen. "You gunna be alright?"

Tabloid just nodded. "Yeah…I will. Just…leave me be." He let out a deep sigh, then went silent.

Prez shrugged, then looked towards Trigger. "Look man, I think we're just going to have to deal with a unpainted part of our wing for a while, until we can get some grey paint."

Avril nodded. "Honestly. Now all we have is white and black painting."

Trigger tilted his head slightly. "What happened to the orange?"

Avril rolled her eyes. "Apparently it 'Disappeared' after you used it for your emblem." She made air quotes slightly with a sigh. "But I found cans of it laying around in the storage room, but they weren't there anymore when I checked a second time. I blame the base commander." She looks back at him with a shrug.

"Why would he be hiding paint though?"

Prez sighed. "Probably wants to just have control over everything, I hate guys like that, they throw around their weight the moment they get a higher up position. Random punishments, random changes to how things are run, write ups." She waves her hands in front of herself, shaking her head. "Hate 'em. Nothing ever good come from them."

Avril raised an eyebrow. "Your old base commander was like that huh?"

Prez paused, "Never had a base commander, mercenaries answer to their boss. I am speaking from experience though, when I was younger I worked at a pizza place. Random guy got promoted and it went to his head."

"Huh…I could kill for pizza." Trigger turned back towards the wing, thinking what he could do. A scraped wing just bothered him. While it looked nice, paint was also there to protect the wings from the elements.

"Oh tell me about it." Prez sighed in delight. "I would do anything for bacon and pineapple pizza right now…with a soda…some garlic bread…just, amazing." She chuckled.

Avril gagged. "Pineapple?! Get that shit outa here Prez, pineapple does not belong on pizza."

Prez suddenly jumped to her feet. "Oh! Oh no no no!" She pointed at Avril. "Do not judge me for liking pineapple on pizza."

Trigger turned away from the wing slowly. He had no idea what was going on, but Avril and Prez were now in each other's face going back and forth about what pizza toppings were allowed or not.

"Anything is okay unless it's limited to a max of five toppings. Have you ever seen the hideous mess that is a everything pizza with over twenty toppings on it? It's horrible!" Prez frowned at just the thought of it as she drank from her canteen.

"So you admit pineapple doesn't belong! You said everything so pineapple would be included."

Prez froze mid drink, glaring at Avril.

They glared at each other for a while, minutes ticked by. Then they both turned to Trigger, before they could even say a word, he had already crossed his arms in front of him, palms flat, then moved them out. Shaking his head as he did. He didn't want to be involved in this at all. He liked his pizza with cheese and onions, that was it.

"Trigger!" A voice boomed with authority and stress.

Everyone standing froze, Tabloid groaned in pain at the loud noise.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, you're needed, now."

Trigger tilted his head slightly. The man was short, he had short black hair, and a menacing scowl. He looked like he was likely to just bite off their heads. "Bandog?"

"Of course it's me!" Bandog glared at the group, a thin frown on his face. "Look, I need you to come with me. Immediately."

Trigger pointed to himself, frowning slightly, with a raised eyebrow.

Bandog just nodded, motioning for him to follow.

Trigger frowned, shook his head, and did just that. He waved to Prez and Avril slightly, he really didn't want to deal with this, but it looked like he would have to.

The two nodded back to him, then looked back to each other.

"Fruit doesn't belong on pizza Prez! No fruit should ever be on a pizza!" Avril glared at her, for a long time.

Prez frowned once more, eyes squinted slightly. "But….pear and bacon with caramelized onions."

"No! No fruit of any type on any pizza." Avril smiled slightly.

Prez frowned more, chewing her lip slightly. After a second, she froze, her eyebrows quickly raising.

As Trigger walked out of the hanger. He heard a chuckle.

"Tomatoes are a fruit."

A loud gasp could be heard, "Motherfucker…"

Bandog didn't say a thing as they walked through the entire base to the briefing room. Not that Trigger minded at all, but, it was weird. He frowned slightly as he followed Bandog through the winding corridors.

A few inmates and guards glared at him. As they walked past one checkpoint though, he could hear a woman over the radio, talking in length of the sins of Osea. The Princess continued as they walked out of earshot, but every now and then, a muffled cheer could be heard.

As they arrived, Bandog simply pointed to a chair, then stepped into the briefing room.

Trigger huffed slightly, but sat down, he didn't want to get in trouble and be sent to solitary again.

"So…" A gruff voice came from across the hall. "What are you in for Trigger?"

He jumped slightly, shooting a glare at the man sitting directly across from him. "Champ…the hell do you mean?"

Champ chuckled slightly. "Well, I got put into solitary because I left during the Roca Roja mission. Now I'm here for a reprimand."

"We all got put into solitary Champ." As if it changed anything, there was no punishment to fit the crime, as per usual. However, things were iffy. Even though he spent about an hour in solitary after the Roca Roja mission, Trigger could have sworn it was more than five hours. Though he was sure someone would argue that being suck in solitary longer was worse. To be fair, the entire thing was unethical.

"I know we all were, Count wouldn't shut up about it this morning, but thats not what I asked." He sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Why are you here?"

Trigger raised an eyebrow, then squinted slightly. "What?" Why were any of them here was the better question, barely anyone was an actually combat pilot, they were just forced to go up into the air. No questions, no choice, just go, and sacrifice everything for Osea. He shrugged as he waved a hand slightly, shaking his head.

Champ stared back at him for a good minute. His eyes slowly squinted, his lips pursed into a frown. He just kept staring, at one point he leaned even more forward, even scooting his chair a little bit forward.

Trigger frowned just slightly. "Ummm…Champ?"

After a long pause, his eyes widened, he let out a sigh, and facepalmed. "Trigger…I mean why are you in this hallway, sitting here, waiting for bandog. Not why are you here in the base, stuck with the rest of us." He shook his head. "Seriously, we all know you're a murderer. So I know, why you're here." He pointed at the ground.

"Ahhhhhh…" His jaw dropped suddenly as the shock hit him. He had completely misunderstood the question, and now was stuck in this conversation. "Ughhhhh…damn it." He sighed as his hand covered his eyes. He just wanted to curl up and stop talking. "Sorry…I di-…I didn't get it." With a groan he sat up straight, removing his hand from his face. "I don't know why I'm here." He points to the ground as well.

Champ chuckled, a smile covering his face. "Man, people were right, you really don't do a lot of talking."

"Hey…I try." He frowned deeply and leaned back in his chair once more.

"Hey, hey, hey, I understand." Champ held up his hands slightly. "Look, I'm trying to be nice for a change. I may seem to be a big bully, but…I'm just…" his hands drop down, he shrugs. "I dunno. I didn't think robbing a gas station years ago would cause me to end up here."

Trigger tilted his head, eyes slightly squinted. "You robbed…a gas station?"

A nod in response.

"Thats why you're here?"

"More or less I guess?" He shrugs. "I've been through a lot of prisons. Always got into trouble and fights. So this is just another stop on the road, it's fun a least, being able to fly."

Trigger chuckled slightly. "Well, I can agree with that."

"Oh I'd bet, after you fought off Crimson…" He leans forward. "Bandog said you were a peacekeeper before, right?"

"Yeah, I was a newish recruit." He made a so-so motion with his hand. "But yeah, I was, piloted an F-16."

"An F-16? Would love to have one of those." Champ chuckled, leaning back a bit. "I've always heard good things about it. Nice speed, nice armament, great profile too." He nods slowly.

Trigger tilted his head slightly. "Really? You've got the Mig-29 right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Thats a pretty good plane especially speed wise."

"I wouldn't know honestly…I only knew how to fly because I used to do commercial flights back in the day." Champ shrugs. "F-16's just always looked cool to me. Always thought it would be nice to fly a fighter jet one day." He shakes his head slowly. "But not like this. This is just a nightmare."

"Yeah, you've been here longer than me to, so I can imagine it's been rough."

"Avril's been here longer than me. I was transferred in right after her."

"Who else came in with her?"

"Tabloid, the guys who work as ground crew, and Count, I think…It's hard to tell cuz I never saw him until we started flying. But he seemed to know everyone else already."

Tigger tilted his head at that, it was a weird point. Count seemed to hold a bit of pride that he had been here so long, but it was never clear when he arrived. It wasn't like Trigger could just stop by Mckinsey's office, ask to take a look at Count's files, then get all the answers he was looking for. Even if he could, there was no way to tell if it was the truth anyways. Which led him back to the original question. "So…robbed a gas station? Really? That was all?"

"Yeah…Look, I got laid off, no support, no benefits. I was out of money, I lost my home, all of my things. I was desperate…but now, I just want to go home." Champ sighed deeply. "I just want to go home…I've been stuck in this for so long with no way out. I just…I tried to rob a gas station and I failed. I failed at having a job. I failed at trying to keep things together. I failed. I failed."

Trigger frowned deeply. "You're still trying though?"

Champ nodded slowly, he took a deep breath, staring at the ground.

"Right?"

"I…I dunno…I'm just a bully. I feel like there is nothing I can really try anymore, except staying alive."

"I…I've been here for a little while, so I don't know exactly how it's like…but…I feel like you don't belong here either Champ. You shouldn't be here for something so small. Just, stay alive, and we'll figure out how we can get pardons. Bandog does keep saying we'll work off our crimes."

"I'll do my best…Trigger." Champ smiled slightly. "I apologize if I've been a little mean in the past, just once my blood gets boiling…I just get into a mood. The only thing I've done right, the only thing I can do, is be a bully."

"I understand…" He nodded slowly, as of late he had been having his own moments of rage. "Look…I'm not…the best with words." He bit his lip slightly. "But, I do understand. Just try to stay safe out there. Okay?"

Champ stared at him for a good five minutes, not a single word came forth. But eventually, he nodded slowly. "I believe you. I'll do my best." He pursed his lips and crossed his arms as he stares up at the ceiling. "One day…I'll go home."

Trigger tilted his head slightly, trying to understand what Champ was referring to when he mentioned home.

The doors slammed open, causing Trigger to jump, while Champ didn't even react.

"Trigger! Get in here, now." Bandog glared, pointing into the briefing room.

He nodded to Bandog and slowly stood up.

Champ nodded his way, leaning back. "Don't worry, I'll try."

The doors closed behind them.

Trigger blinked slightly as his eyes adjusted to the dark room.

"Trigger, have a seat." A man in a dark blue Osean officer's uniform sat at a table, he had a laptop and notepad in front of him.

Trigger paused, tilting his head. His eyes widened. "You're the officer who pushed for the IUN to hand me over to Osea for my 'punishment' aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, now sit down already. I don't have time for this." The man motioned again to the chair.

Trigger looked to Bandog, "What is this about?"

He just rolled their eyes in response. "IUN incident two days ago, sit down." He forced Trigger into the seat with a few shoves.

"Well, I'm glad to see the staff here is giving you the treatment you deserve murderer."

"I didn't do it. I was using my machine gun." Trigger's automatic response was simply droned out. He shook his head slightly as the memories bubbled up, his stomach turned.

"No one cares Trigger, you're already convicted. It was a fair trial."

"Usually a fair trial has a jury…doesn't it?" He growled.

Bandog put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed. "Let's stay on topic. The IUN incident?"

"I will ignore that statement. As your Lieutenant here makes a good point. We're here to talk about the incident after your recent mission." The officer taps away on their laptop for a bit. "Why did you attack the IUN patrol?"

Trigger frowned slightly and squinted. "Because they threatened and opened fire at us?"

"Why did you not identify yourselves?"

"Didn't need to, they knew exactly who we were." Trigger points up at Bandog who is still standing next to him. "Plus, he identified us to Crimson squadron, though they did jam him. There was no need either way."

"Osean procedures dictate that in any state of unknown aircraft firs-"

"I'm not Osean military. I'm Usean. The rest of us pilots aren't even official military."

"You are on the Osean military's payroll so you should follow the Osean procedures."

"Pffft!" Trigger had to hold back a laugh. "Payroll?! Payroll?! We're not even paid! No one has handed me a fucking handbook or anything, so how the fuck am I supposed to know what the fuck the Osean procedures are?" He glared at the officer. "Why the hell are you even here?"

"To clear up some details when it comes to your involvement in the situation."

"What else is needed? I sent in all required details and information. Guncam footage, flight logs, radio logs, everything!" Bandog glared at the officer. "What they hell else do you need? What details?"

The Officer frowned deeply, but ignored Bandog, looking to Trigger instead. "Why did you engage Crimson Squadron? We have the IUN pissed off to all belief, they say Crimson was nowhere near your flight path. So the two of you should not have even be close enough to engage. How do you explain that?"

Trigger raised an eyebrow, squinting slightly. "They're peacekeepers. They're allowed to go where they please, if it's an emergency, any peacekeeper can change their course without making logs or reporting it." Clown had taught him all about it. Peacekeepers were a reactionary force, because of that the IUN was very lenient when it came to their deployment.

"That may be true, but you still shot down two peacekeepers. Why did you engage them? The IUN is pushing for you to be transferred back to their custody."

He growled, glaring at the officer. "You obviously didn't review shit." Trigger leaned forward, placing his hands on the table between the two of them. "Let me put it plainly. They threatened me, they threatened the entire squad, and lastly, they threatened my WSO." He stayed leaned forward, his heart pounding. "Will that be all?"

"I need to know what ha-"

"Review…" He slammed his hand against the table, "the damned…" He slammed it again. "footage. Everything you need is there, send copies over to the IUN."

"I don't think that will absolve you, this is a very serious matter."

"The IUN can't communicate between branches…it was something my old squad lead would say. It's true. But the fact of the matter is, you get it sent in, they'll have to put it through the political mess. There's your out."

The officer stared at him in shock for a good minute.

"Anything else?"

"Well your attitude is very unbecoming." The man grinned, as if he had just been given a birthday gift. "I think you're having delusions, maybe some time in solitary will clear that up?"

"You don't get to decided that." Trigger jabbed his finger into the man's chest.

"I will do whatever I damn well please here, I have the authority to have you executed if I so please Trigger so you're going to solitary right now, and not coming out for damned week!" He turns to move towards the doors.

Trigger freezes. A whole week? Left on his own? The last time he was there he had only been there for a few hours, no, no, no it felt like a few hours. Damn it, him and his big mouth. He was better off not talking at a-

"Brigadier General Clemens." Bandog growled out the name with a gnash of teeth. "You, in fact, do not have that authority."

Clemens froze mid stride, his hand reaching for the door. "I'm sorry…I believe I misheard you, Lieutenant."

"Then allow me to repeat myself. You do not have that authority. All decisions of what happens with our inmates goes through the base commander." Bandog slowly stood up, walking over to be just in front of and to the left of Trigger. "I would be happy to forward a request, but in the end, it is the base commander's decision, not yours."

Clemens slowly turned around glaring at Bandog and Trigger. "You dare to undermine my authority?"

"No sir, but you would be undermining the base commander's authority. You are a visiting delegate of a different branch, you were brought here to review the information we submitted from the incident two days ago. That is where your authority ends. In fact. We have another mission coming up in the next six days." Bandog motions to Trigger now. "Our pilots not only need to be prepared, but he was in the middle of important repairs. So if you are done?" He pauses, motioning to the Brigadier General.

"Fine, get him out of here. But I expect to hear back from you tomorrow about the base commander's decision."

"Of course." Bandog picked Trigger up roughly by the shoulder. "Come on Murderer."

Trigger sighed and went along with it, being dragged out quickly. Clemens glaring at him the whole way out, right up until the doors slammed shut. Champ was gone, probably wasn't needed anymore or had been needed elsewhere. "Why'd you cover for me?"

"Because you're probably the best pilot here, thats why." He shoved Trigger forward. "Now go on, get back to your hanger and stay there. I'll let you know when this asshole is gone." He lets out a deep sigh. "God damn it, you and Champ are going to be the death of me with your hotblooded rage."

"Hmmm…I'll try to keep it down next time."

"I'll try to make sure there isn't a next time of this. Cuz this entire thing was bullshit, I don't even know why he had that notepad out. He never wrote anything down." Bandog waved as he went back to the doors. Mumbling to himself. "Don't worry about the solitary threat, I'm not gunna do anything about it.

"Can I have some grey paint?" Trigger tilted his head, as he asked the question, watching carefully.

Bandog stopped, turned on his heels, then glared at Trigger. "Sure, anything else sir?"

Trigger chuckled lightly. "Nah, thats all, thanks Bandog, you're not to bad." He turned and left, not even looking back at Bandog. Though, he didn't hear the door open up again for a good minute.

July 12th, 2019 15.03 hours.

444th Airforce Base Briefing room.

Three beeps sounded as the Tac Screen booted up, "You know, I've received a metal for my ingenuity in finding a use for you cons." He paused, then turned forward. "But just remember. If you disobey orders," he glared, his eyes slowly scanning the room. "There is a special place in solitary confinement for you."

Someone raised a hand.

McKinesy glared directly at them. "Your so-called right to complain was forfeited the moment you chose to break the law."

The hand slowly lowered. "Sorry…" Count sighed, pouting as he glance over at Tabloid, who just shook his head slowly.

"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk, Count, you know better than to ask questions." Tabloid grinned, whispering his verbal jab.

Count smiled and elbowed Tabloid gently.

Prez elbowed Count not so gently.

"Ow! Watch it you uppity tomboy."

"I'm not Avril, it's Prez dumbass. Jeez man, do you need to get your eyes checked?" She leans forward slightly. "How many fingers am I holding up?" She flips him off.

Count frowns deeply, staring Prez right in the eyes. "I know. That does not change my previous statement."

Prez giggles slightly. "Awww, why thank you."

Trigger rolls his eyes and taps Prez's hand, he didn't need those two at each other's necks already.

She purses her lips and nods, looking at the tac screen once more.

"An Ocean Air Force Squadron is currently entering Erusean territory for reconnaissance. Due to certain…factors, their return route has been changed." The Tac screen updated from a long curve, to a straight line. Right through Erusean territory starting at, what looked like stonehenge, and ending at the 444's base. "We will admit, this is a last minute change. The original plan was for you to escort them back to their FOB. It was equally important. But now things have drastically changed. They were spotted and are on the clock."

Trigger raised an eyebrow at that. A recon squad spotted and on the run. For a change that big to have happened, that wasn't a good sign. He wasn't liking this mission already, again. But no one every said they would be taking easy missions.

"The new return route will be through Yinshi Valley, a scenic and rocky karst area."

A popup appeared, and Trigger paled slightly. The karsts were tall and numerous, it would be a hell hole of an area to fight in for anyone.

"The enemy's radar facilities and anti-aircraft weapons hidden on the mountainside pose a serious threat. Your mission is to destroy them and get our guys out in one piece, even if it puts your own lives in danger."

Prez frowned deeply, growling slightly. "God damn it…they're using us as cannon fodder, again."

"It is important to remember they will send up interceptors if you're detected. So you will need to choose something useful in a dogfight."

Everyone went quiet for a moment.

"Oh yes, let me choose Trigger and Prez's Strike Wyvern please, no no, I'll fly it on my own." Count mumbled slightly as he rolled his eyes.

Prez and Tabloid chuckled, trying their best to hide their laughter.

A few other squadron members chuckled.

"Hey Count can I take your Su-33 if you get the Wyvern?" Champ leaned forward and grinned.

Trigger bit his lip, McKinsey was hiding something, he knew it.

"Oh, and one more thing."

Everyone froze.

Trigger sighed, rolling his eyes. "Damn it."

"The weather, won't be on your side," A local new station report came up, showing a massive storm that was heading right over the valley. Rain prediction. 97%. Lightning. 76%. Winds of up to eighty miles per hour. "But you are doing this whether you like it or not."

Prez frowned even harder than before. "I'm sorry was that a pun?" She hissed out her words.

"Worry about the Squadron's return route, not your own. Your mission is to get them back safely. Which I think is the perfect punishment for your crimes. Dismissed." McKinsey waved his hand towards the door, then left.

No one was moving.

Everyone just stared at the tac screen. This was going to be tough mission, a suicide level mission even for veteran combat pilots. They were going to be run ragged soon enough if this level of difficult kept up. He and Prez might be able to handle this for a while, but the others were already looking tired and worn out. This announcement was just a nail in the coffin.

"We're fucked…aren't we?" Full Band looked around in a panic.

"Probably, yeah, shit like this gets my blood boiling." Champ punched the wall next to him. scowling at the tac screen.

"I've got no intel on this. Though there might be some stuff I can look into before we take off…" Full Band pulled out a notepad and started flicking through it at a rapid pace. "No, No, No, No." He quickly stood up, running over to the tac screen.

Trigger slowly stood up, Prez following right behind him. He looked over the tac screen. "Damn it…"

Prez frowned, looking up to him. "I don't like that."

The other squadron members come around the tac screen.

"There's detailed elevation on the valley itself. But I'm not seeing anything on the karsts…I'm assuming these," he starts pointing to the red dots on the screen. "Are in between karsts, or in the shadow of them. Thats going to be a problem…"

Champ frowns. "Why? Can't be much different from what we've done before, not like we haven't had a time where we've needed to hit some ground targets in a difficult spot."

Trigger frowns. "Remember Roca Roja? The Canyon base?"

Spare 10 frowns. "Yeah…" He was the newer member who had almost been shot down during the canyon attack.

Tabloid looks worried. "You mean when we did that canyon run?"

Prez nodded. "Still love that movie."

"This is going to be like that, but fifty times worst. We've got no intel on how high these karsts are…nor how close together they are." He frowns deeply. "Full Band."

"Eh?!" Full Band jumped slightly, shaking as all eyes focused on him. "Y-yes?"

"Come here," He motions for everyone to move out of Full Band's way. "get as much info as you can on this area. I want elevations, topography, anything you can get on these karsts. Hopefully something we can match up with this." He jabs his finger at the tac screen current layout. "I saw something earlier in the briefing which showed the karsts in detail. We need that. Or even better satellite images."

"Oh! Oh…Oh…Okay…I Thi-…I think I can do that."

"Just do your best." Trigger gave him a pat on the back, then motioned to Prez. "Take notes on whatever he finds."

Prez just smirked. "Well, well, well. Look at you dude, taking initiative." She chuckles. "Might need to get a promotion myself so I can catch up with you boss."

Trigger smiled and rolled his eyes. "Funny." He took a deep breath. "I'm just trying to make sure we all get out of this alive. We don't need any needless deaths over bad intel."

She paused as she was reaching for a pen and paper, freezing slightly, "Yeah…" She grabbed the pen, her knuckles white, even in the dark briefing room. "You're right. This is going to be difficult."

He nodded and turned. "Alright everyone else! I want you outside delaying as long as you can. Make a fuss, say you can't find important things, fight over planes. I don't care, just don't get thrown in solitary. We need every second right now so Full Band can get the intel w-"

The doors slammed opened, everyone jumped and turned.

"Bet you all weren't expecting to see me back so soon!"

A long silence filled the room.

"Uhhh…guys…what'd I miss." High Roller looked around quickly, a slight frown on his face and his eyebrows raised. "Guys?"

Prez groaned. "Everything…" She stood up. "Come on, lets see if there is even a plane for you."

"Wait!" Tabloid jumped up.

Prez froze.

"You owe me five bucks! We had a deal Prez! I bet that High Roller would return before the next mission." Tabloid quickly walked up and pointed at her.

She sighed. "God…damn it…just my luck." She dug into her pocket and pulled out five one dollar bills. "I was hoping you'd forgotten."

High Roller sniffed slightly. "Awww you're all betting without me? I'm so proud."

"Well, well, well, look who's back." Champ stepped up to High Roller.

"Oh, Champ. Yeah, I'm back, what of it?" He swallowed slightly as he thinned his lips, worryingly looking up at the toughest member of the squadron.

"Good to see you back." He gave a slap on the back. "Now come on, the Tomboy is right, you're the perfect distraction. Lets go find you a plane, even though there aren't any extras. We can still make it an issue." He grabbed High Roller by the collar and dragged him away.

"Oh! Woah! Okay I'll see you all later!" High Roller waved quickly as the doors closed behind him.

Everyone looked around in confusion.

"Uhh…so…time to mess around?" Count shrugged slightly.

Trigger chuckled slightly. "Correct, move out." He pointed at the door. "Lets do this mission quickly, and get home safe."

The rest of the squad cheered, quickly heading out the door to cause as much trouble and problems as they could.

Trigger followed after them slowly.

Home…he didn't know where his home was anymore. While this place was a hellhole, he hoped there were better times ahead, and maybe, he could find a place where he felt at home. For some reason his eyes settled on Prez as he went through the doors, pausing. She was currently laughing as she watched everyone make their way out, discussing ideas. He just kept watching her smile and laugh.

Home.

He wanted to go home too. Wherever that may be…he just hoped, that, Prez was there too.