I'd forgotten how hard flying could be on your body. It was a different kind of exertion than what I'd gotten used to over the last year at SHIELD. There were muscles I'd forgotten existed that started to ache as soon as I was out of the jet. The morning hop with Sharpe had been nothing but a blur of adrenaline filled excitement. It felt like the first time I'd flown one all over again. The entire thing was a rushed blur, nothing sticking in my memory. Sitting back in the cockpit of a F-22 Raptor was like being home. I didn't realise how much I'd missing it until the jet rumbled to life underneath me. Whatever I did in the air must have been right. When I was back on the ground, Sharpe had come over and given me a fist bump. No words were needed.

There was no higher praise from Sharpe than a high 5 or fist bump. I could count on one hand the amount of times I'd gotten one. Some guys had gone years without any sign of praise from our commanding officer. I was on cloud 9 all the way through post hop debrief. Even the criticism of the complicated aerobatic manoeuvres where I'd missed my timing by seconds didn't bring me down. I was wrong about flying the Quinjet not keeping my skill up. Those long flights by myself when I'd gotten bored and practiced all the high speed manoeuvres had kept me sharp enough to pull it off in the more agile fighter jet. It was such a nice feeling to be sitting here very confident about my abilities. The nerves of before were long gone. I was excited and completely pumped for what was to come.

Currently I was sitting in the briefing room, by myself, feet up on the desk in front of me waiting for the Agent to brief me on the F-35. Agent Browning was meant to be here 20 minutes ago. So I was sitting in an empty room playing on my phone. Clint, Jared and Coulson were nowhere to be found. I'd sent them all a text asking for some food since I wasn't allowed to leave the flight building but hadn't heard anything back yet. Adrenaline and a can of Red Bull weren't going to keep me going forever. I was dreading the crash of both of those things. My phone vibrated in my hand, bringing another text from Greg.

So, are you being serious its just like driving a car? Once you can fly one thing, the rest are easy?

I smiled at the reply. He'd asked me earlier if I was doing anything on the weekend. He was day shift for the weekend and wanted to try and catch up. It'd been a slightly awkward conversation because I knew I couldn't tell him exactly what I was doing. But the explanation of I was at an Air Force Base away from DC and doing a demo in a fighter jet seemed to give him more than enough questions to fling at me.

Not easy, but yeah think of it like I get to drive a Lamborghini. A very illegally super up Lamborghini thats more like sitting on a stick of Acme dynamite.

The smile couldn't be wiped off my face as I typed out my reply. I was so buzzed right now, I couldn't stop fidgeting in my seat. My leg bounced impatiently against the desk, my free hand was undoing and redoing up a zipper on my sleeve. Thankfully Greg was quick on the replying today.

Why am I picturing you like Wile E Coyote strapped to a rocket?

Once I read it, I couldn't get the picture out of my head. I chuckled quietly. He wasn't half wrong. It really was a very accurate description of what it felt like.

That is basically was it feels like. If filming is allowed, I'll try and send you something of me flying.

I paused midway through the text. I felt bad that I kept turning Greg down for something so simple. He wasn't showing anything to me beyond being a friend. I needed to find some balls and just go have chilli dogs and beer with him. Sucking in a deep breath, I quickly typed out the rest.

I should be home by Monday at the latest. Lets do chilli dogs and beer whenever you're free from work.

I hit send before I could second guess myself. I was over complicating a very simple situation. Like I'd pointed out to Jared, numerous times, Greg and I could be just friends. There didn't have to be anything sexual behind us doing anything. Besides, who could turn down Ben's Chilli Bowl and beer? After this full on weekend, I was going to need some winding down. The message from Greg came back quickly.

I'm free Tuesday. Wanna make it about 6?

I felt a small thrill at how quickly he replied and his answer. He was meant to be at work at the moment, yet he was texting me so quickly.

1800 it is. I'll put it in the calendar and make it official.

My own reply was just as quick. As soon as I pressed send, the door opened. I looked around, expecting to see Agent Browning. But it was only Coulson.

"He's on his way," Coulson reassured me. He was carrying a plate with him and a coffee mug. "Your request for food."

"You're a life saver," I gushed. I was starving. If Coulson hadn't come and saved my stomach, I would have resorted to raiding the vending machine. I didn't have any money on me, but I knew if you shook and kicked it a certain way, you could get stuff out of it. Coulson put the plate and coffee on the table next to me, his stern gaze drifting to my feet on the desk. I instantly put my feet where they belonged, on the floor.

"How do you feel?" Coulson asked, sliding into the chair next to me.

"Sore, but excited." I reached over and grabbed one of the sandwich halves. Whatever the toasted sandwich was, smelt amazing. The melted cheese leaked out of the bread, leaving a greasy mess on my fingers. I eagerly licked my fingers before biting into the sandwich. It was ham, cheese and mayonnaise. So simple, but so good. I inhaled the half in my hand within a few bites.

"Colonel Sharpe was full of praise for you this morning," Coulson smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "He said he's looking forward to you flying the F-35 this afternoon. Might raise an eyebrow or two for those who haven't seen you before."

"I'm looking forward to the F-35," I said around a mouthful of sandwich. Coulson rolled his eyes, but didn't berate me for speaking with my mouth full. "The eyebrow raising might be from me crashing and burning though."

"I doubt that," Coulson chuckled, this time his face relaxed into a more genuine pleased expression. I just couldn't place what was on his mind though. He looked like something was really bothering him. "This morning was just solid proof of how you managed to fly F-22's straight up. I have to admit, I'm very impressed."

"Thanks Coulson." I couldn't wipe the goofy grin off my face at his praise. First Sharpe and now Coulson. Today was looking pretty fucking awesome.

"Just…" Coulson trailed off, the smile falling away from his face. I could finally see the real expression of what he was feeling. He looked worried. Very, very worried. "Please be careful up there. I don't want to spend another 2 months in hospital with you."

Ah, there it was. The thing that was bothering him the most. I thought it might have been he wasn't happy that I got to do something like this when I should still be punished. Instead it was Coulson being a mother hen and worrying about me. Flying a prototype aircraft was dangerous enough, let alone one that had already had a record of a crash.

"I will Phil," I quickly soothed him. "I promise I'll be extra careful. Believe me, I don't want to spend any more time in hospital either."

"Make sure you eat everything," Coulson nodded, looking satisfied with my reassurance. Checking his watch, he pushed himself up from the chair with a muffled groan. "If you want anything else send one of us a message. We're currently being given tours. Barton is trying to charm his way into a flight."

"I'd pay good money to see someone take him up in a T-38," I smiled as I shoved more sandwich in my mouth. That would make my day to see someone really put Clint through his paces while flying. He might not be as tough as he thinks he is. The smaller and agile trainer jet could really move. It was used against the F-22 for combat simulations due to it being a much to run and maintain than the Raptor. I'd flown one many times before, even being as old as they were, they could still give the F-22 a run for its money.

"I wouldn't mind going up in one either," Coulson said, surprising the hell out of me. "It looks like fun."

"I would personally take you up Sir if you can manage to make it happen," I grinned. Aching muscles or not, if Coulson wanted a spin, I'd drag my ass into the cockpit and manage a third flight.

"I don't think my stomach could handle your flying," Coulson chuckled, giving me a pat on the shoulder. "I'll see you after."

I'd already shoved more sandwich in my mouth, so I waved in response. As Coulson walked out, another middle aged man walked in. Judging by his SHIELD shirt and leg in a full cast and crutches, it was pretty solid guess it was Agent Browning.

"Agent Lyngley, how lovely to finally meet you," the middle aged man's face broke into an easy smile. He stuck out his hand and I took it in a firm grip. "Nice flying this morning. I can see why you got this gig on short notice."

"Thank you." I wasn't sure what else to say. Sometimes I hated the reputation that followed me. Having the last name of Lyngley was bad enough in SHIELD. Jared had bitched about it a few times while he was still at the Academy. People thought he was getting through on his last name, not his own merits. On top of that, I also had the reputation of STRIKE Team Delta following me. It was a very big reputation to live up to.

"Let's get started." Browning slid into the chair next to me with a wince. The folder which he had under his arm landed on my table with a loud smack. "So the cockpit is based on the same design as the F-22."

I quickly shoved the rest of my sandwich in my mouth. I didn't want to miss a thing of this briefing.

2 hours later, my head was hurting from the information overload. Agent Browning had left me to absorb everything while he found coffee. I buried my face into the file trying to get as much information as possible to stick in my head. I was so grateful for my good memory right now. It really was a lot to take in. Luckily for me, the basic operating systems were just like he said, based on the F-22 but completely digital. Controls wise it was no different to fly than a Raptor. However, its speed was slightly faster than a Raptor and it handled better. I'd need to be careful about my controls, the side stick was more sensitive by another 1/16th of an inch. Not much at all when you read it on paper, but when you're doing high speed aerobatics, it counted.
The most exciting thing on SHIELD's F-35 was the inclusion of STOVL, just like the Quinjet. The short take-off and vertical landing gave it the ability to take off and land nearly anywhere. Technically, it was a VTOL, vertical take off and landing. But apparently the people at Lockheed Martin, the civilian contractors doing the F-35's for the military, refused to believe that VTOL was possible with such heavy payloads for weapons and fuel. SHIELD blew them right out of the water with that theory. But SHIELD aircraft designers had to play nice and follow the rules. So Agent Browning told me anyway. I didn't need to hear the reasons behind the pissing match between SHIELD and Lockheed Martin. All I needed was to know how to fly the jet safely.

A gentle yank on my braid brought my attention back down to Earth. I scowled, reaching around to hit the offending person.

"Fuck off Hawk, I'm busy," I grumped as my hand connected with a body.

"Ow, fuck Knuckles," a voice that definitely didn't belong to Clint came out. I whipped my head around in mild horror to see who I'd just hit. It was Gareth. He was rubbing his side where I'd landed the fairly hard hit. I should have known it wasn't Clint. I didn't feel like I'd broken my hand when I hit him.

"Fuck, sorry Frogger." I shot him an apologetic grin. "I thought you were someone else."

"Obviously." Gareth rolled his eyes playfully. Even my smack in the side didn't seem to deter his good mood. "Its good to see you, and not hungover this time."

If only Gareth knew that being hungover was the least of my problems last time we'd seen each other. Looking back now I'm not sure how I even managed to function that day. Let alone sit there and have a conversation with someone. Now wasn't the time to think about that though.

"I'm saving that for Sunday morning," I chuckled, pushing back the bad memories. "I'm going to need it. Good to see you too."

Gareth sat down in the chair next to me, giving me a good look at him. He looked different from the last time I saw him. His flight suit was a lot more filled out than it used to be, it looked to be all muscle too. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself saying something really stupid about his new found muscle.

"Who's ass did you kiss to get this?" Gareth teased. "Or how much bloodshed was there?"

"The halls of the Triskelion were running red from the blood of my victims," I said dramatically. The grin on my face gave it away how about serious I wasn't being. "Honestly, I got this dumped in my lap at 0430. Apparently I was the last option."

"Come on, with the way you flew this morning you should have been the first option." Gareth looked mildly surprised at my honesty. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Was everyone watching that? "What's SHIELD doing wasting your flying talent?"

"Putting my much better shooting talent to use." Everyone as so nosy about what I actually did in SHIELD these days. I was expecting a full interrogation over beers on Saturday night. "They gave me a sniper rifle and let me loose in the world."

"I would pay good money to see that," Gareth chuckled. "Any chance you can let us look in that wicked looking jet you came in?"

"I will ask my handler." There was going to be a lot of swapping going on this weekend. At least the Quinjet was used to getting a lot of abuse. There were some really ordinary pilots in SHIELD. I'd cringed many times seeing what some of the other pilots did to them.

"Handler, not boss?" Gareth raised an eyebrow. "That makes it sound like you have someone to keep you on a leash."

"SHIELD like to keep their important assets on a leash, so you're not wrong," I smiled wryly. It was weird talking to someone outside of SHIELD. Things like calling Coulson my handler were second nature now. Even Greg hadn't questioned why Coulson was called my handler, not my boss.

"So what's the walking bicep's superpower?"

Gareth's question made me laugh. That was a very accurate description of Clint. He really was all arms. He'd been hitting the upper body workout routine extra hard lately too.

"Ever heard of the guy called Hawkeye?" I asked when my laughter died down enough to speak. Gareth nodded in confirmation. Clint and Natasha were both legends, even outside of SHIELD. "That's him."

"No shit?" if Gareth's eyebrows went any higher, they'd disappear into his hair. "Wow, you're keeping some impressive company these days. Who's the blonde guy on crutches?"

"My brother, Jared," I explained, furrowing my brow. "You would have met him before. He used to come to all the airshows"

No matter what he was doing, Jared never missed any of the airshows when I was doing demonstations. Even if I didn't introduce him to anyone, you'd have to be blind to not notice we were related. He'd always stick around long enough to give me a hug and quick conversation afterwards.

"Ah, that explains the resemblance. I think I might have seen him a few times," Gareth nodded. "Older or younger?"

"Older, by 25 minutes, my twin," I smiled as I watched Gareth's look of amazement at my answer. It only occurred to me that none of the guys from my old Squadron would know a thing about me. This was probably the longest conversation I'd had with someone from my old Squadron that didn't involve anything to do with work.

Before he could ask anything else, the door banged open. The other pilots, Helix and Stringray came rushing in, Sharpe right behind them. The noise in the room climbed as thew new arrivals tried to talk over each other. The buzz of excitement filled the air straight away. It was a familiar feeling, sitting in this room waiting to get up in the air. There was always lots of people bouncing from the thrill about to come. Even if you were sore, exhausted or just not in the mood for it today, this atmosphere always pumped you up. Today was no exception.

I couldn't stop bouncing my legs as we went through the pre-flight briefing. I had so much pent up energy, I felt like I could go and run a marathon and still have energy to spare. I should have been dead on my feet by now from lack of sleep. But I was wide awake and itching to get into the F-35. But I still had at least another 2 hours before I was going to get to touch it. The whole pre-flight, getting redressed and all the usual crap that came before a hop always took forever. For the actual hour I'd spend in the air, there was about 6 hours of pre and post flight work to do. I pitied to poor aircraft technicians over the next few days. For every hour in the air, most fighter jets would require at least 10-18 hours of maintenance. A lot of people would be working through the night to make sure we had to aircraft fully operational for tomorrow and Saturday.

I was the first person dressed and ready to go once our pre-flight brief was over. Agent Browning and Clint met me with a car to head out towards the flight lines. SHIELD's F-35 was stored in a hanger away from prying eyes. Why SHIELD chose Langley Base to keep it was beyond me. While it was close to the Triskelion, Andrews was closer. Edwards Base had a much better facility for aircraft testing as well.

I didn't have much time to ponder of the schematics of it all. SHIELD had its own way of doing things in ways I would never understand. We pulled up to the hanger which was being guarded by 2 fully armed SHIELD agents. No doubt there were other guards around the building as well. Clint had my badge and ID on him making the entire process of actually getting into the hanger fairly smooth.

The F-35 was one big bitch of an aircraft. It looked like it had eaten a F-22 and was sporting the mother of all food baby's. It technically was only a few feet bigger than a Raptor, but it was so much chunkier. The F-35 was still a masterpiece of technology. I felt a little giddy as I ran my hands over the nose of it. This was so surreal. One of the new crazier things to happen in my life. If I lived to be old and grey I'd certainly have my share of cool Grandma stories to share.

"Come on, up you go," Browning's voice made me jump. "You've got to be in position in 45 minutes."

45 minutes sounded like a long time. But the reality was we'd be squeezing a lot in. As I climbed up the ladder, my legs felt shaky. My the time I sat in the cockpit, my hands were shaking as well. Clint climbed up the ladder behind me, holding my helmet bag.

"Is that adrenaline or nerves?" Clint asked as I got myself settled.

"Both," I half grinned. "I'm so excited I feel like I'm going to pee myself. But I'm nervous about fucking this up."

"I'd pay good money to see you try and pee with all that gear on," Clint grinned back, handing me the helmet bag. I took it, tucking it at my feet for the moment.

"Believe me, I can pee in a bag like a man when the need to go really strikes." I began to strap myself in, my fingers moving more with muscle memory than actual thought. "It beats having to wear Depends."

"Gross," Clint wrinkled his nose in disgust. He watching my every movement, I was half expecting him to start asking what button did what. He wasn't the only one eyeing off everything in the cockpit. I had to hand it to the SHIELD engineers. They'd done an amazing job with the jet. The rumoured heads up display in the helmet visor wasn't ready yet. But the cockpit was state of the art. Gone were any traces of analogue dials. Everything was liquid crystal display, much like the F-22, but all my screens were now touch display. Instead of switches and toggles, all I had to do was press my finger on the screen. It was a dream come true. All I had to do was focus on flying and not worry about the usual multi tasking that came with flying.

Agent Browning was looking impatient on the ground, so I quickly stuck my radio earphones in, wincing as they crackled to life.

"Good luck." Clint took the hint he was about to be told to move away. He clapped my shoulder with a huge smile. "You don't need it."

I could only smile in response. As soon as my earphones went in I was instantly in my pilot headspace. Nothing could distract me now. Yanking my helmet on, it muffled the world out even more. It was a laser focus now. All the nerves were gone. My entire body started to tremble in anticipation of what was about to come.

"Start her up Agent Lyngley," Browning's voice came over the radio. "Lets get this big mama in the air."

It was a ridiculously simple start up. 3 switches, left to right and the jet roared to life underneath me. The smell of aviation gas hit my nose and went straight to my head, making me dizzy with excitement. I'd imagine it was like having a hit of cocaine, the instant high from it was incredible. It was one of my favourite smells in the world. I didn't have time to sit here and enjoy the feeling of the power underneath me though. I had to run through pre-flight. It was such a simplified process with the new feedback from the advanced electronic systems. There no was room for pilot error. Everything was checked for me. I could seriously get used to this.

"She sounds beautiful," Browning's voice was so full of pride. I couldn't help but to grin in response.

"She is beautiful, fat but beautiful." I patted the control panel. "How does everything look from down there?"

The F-35 was automatically feeding everything back to a tablet in Browning's hand. This one even had several GoPro's mounted both on the inside and outside to record everything. There was no flipping off the other pilots if I got annoyed. If it wasn't so classified I'd be getting the cockpit footage sent to me and sticking it on YouTube. The seat even had some way of recording my vitals as well. Right now I'm sure my heart rate would be through the roof. I clicked on my oxygen mask while I waited for the last few seconds of data to process. Everything looked 100% ready to go.

"Fantastic." Browning gave me a thumbs up. "You ready to take her out?"

"Hell yes," I responded, hitting the button to shut the canopy. In a few seconds the noise died down to a dull roar as the canopy slid forward and clicked shut. Ground crew appeared from nowhere, quickly pulling my wheel chocks out and rechecking for anything on the outside. It didn't take long to get the thumbs up from them and the hanger door to be opened.

I took in a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. This was it. I grabbed the controls and gently eased on the throttle.

The F-35 glided from it's resting spot, the vibrations increasing underneath me at the tiny input of power. A few seconds later, I emerged into the sunlight. It was way too bright and hot under a glass canopy after being in the hanger for ages. I flicked on the climate control and reached up to flip my visor down.

"Smile for the GoPro Kari!" Clint's voice came to life in my ear. I jumped, but instantly complied like the well trained monkey I could be. I smiled as much as I could behind my oxygen mask and flashed a quick thumbs up at the GoPro.

"Nice," Clint's voice sounded like he was grinning. "Thats one to frame."

That was a big compliment coming from Clint. He'd be the first to tell me I look like an idiot and need to delete a photo. Jared and I were both bad for taking lots of photos. Thank goodness for iPhones.

It didn't take long to get on my runway and into position. I was 10 minutes early for my takeoff time so I had nothing to do but sit and idly play with the controls. It always felt like you were a kid playing a computer game while you sat there playing with the control stick. The futuristic looking control panel in front really added to the surreal feel of it all. There was the usual chatter on the various radio channels. Air traffic control sounded busy, despite the slow air traffic around us. The guys in the Raptors were ahead of me, chatting over their designated radio channel. I nearly tuned out before a topic change caught my attention immediately.

"Is it just me, or did Knuckles get really hot all of a sudden?"

I perked up immediately at Gareth's question. He must not have realised that I was tuned into their radio frequency. I wasn't supposed to be, but I hadn't had a chance to turn that channel off yet. This could be fun while I waited.

"Knuckles got really hot," Helix confirmed with a chuckle. "And a little terrifying looking. Her thighs look like they could snap your neck."

"What a way to go though, I could die a happy man with those legs wrapped around me," Gareth chuckled as well.

I rolled my eyes in response. Typical guys, why did it always come back to sports or sex? Besides, Gareth was married, he shouldn't be checking me out. I couldn't remember Helix or Stringray well enough to think if they were married or not. Most of the guys didn't wear wedding rings either, so it was hard to tell.

"I wonder what your wife thinks about you wanting my legs wrapped around you?" I couldn't hold it back any further. I had to cut into this conversation.

"Fuck."

I could almost feel the embarrassment oozing from that one word from Gareth. There was silence for a very long few seconds, before the other 2 burst out laughing. A few insults were thrown at Gareth before the commotion died down enough for Gareth to explain himself.

"I didn't realise you had this frequency on," Gareth cleared his throat. "And I'm officially divorced now, as of last week actually. Excuse me while I go die of embarrassment now."

"Nah, wait until you get in the air and I outfly you, then you can die of embarrassment," I laughed, letting Gareth off the hook for now. Poor guy. I'd want to crawl into a hole and disappear if I'd said something like that as well. I didn't want to rub salt in the wound about being divorced either.

"Yeah?" Gareth recovered quickly. "Knuckles, if you can catch me I'll shout drinks for you all weekend. Whatever you want."

"I hope your bank account is looking healthy Frogger." It was on. I'd never pass up the opportunity for free drinks or to kick someone's ass. "Because I have very expensive taste in scotch and I never back down from a fight."

"Oh little girl you have no idea the world of pain you're about to be in," Gareth shot back. "You're going down."

"Sounds more like you'd love to be going down on me," I grinned to myself at my clever and quick comeback. So much for letting him off the hook. If he wanted to keep throwing insults, I had no problem throwing them right back. Helix and Stingray both burst out laughing at my comeback.

"Fuck me, I can't believe you heard that," Gareth groaned. "And I didn't say that, Helix did."

"Don't drag me into your mess Frogger," Helix said quickly. "You're the one who brought it up."

"I'm sure thats not the only thing that got brought up at Frogger thinking of my legs wrapped around him," I snickered. I was so smugly proud of myself. Usually I wasn't this good at thinking of comebacks on the spot. Poor Gareth was subjected to another round of laughter from the other guys.

"You know I think I liked you better when you were quiet and didn't say boo to anyone," Gareth grumbled, though there was no malice in his tone.

"Yeah but then you didn't think I was hot," I teased. "Come on Frogger, secrets out now. You've been jerking off over me since Camp Cooke, haven't you?"

This was fun. I wasn't beyond getting Gareth flustered before we took off. It'd make him more susceptible to making stupid mistakes in the air. Free scotch all weekend was going to be mine. Natasha would be so proud of what I was about to do.

"Oh god, do you even listen to the words coming out of your mouth?" Gareth groaned. There was a muffled bang come from his end of the microphone. It sounded like he was banging his head against the window. "What I jerk off to is none of your business."

"It is because its me you're doing it to?" I teased. My face was starting to hurt from grinning so much. "Or me and Natasha. Remember my sexy redhead friend? We aren't above using each for sex. Only a woman knows how to please another woman. We keep saying we're going to make a sex tape and sell it at work. I can always send you a copy."

Helix and Stringray both sounded like they were about to die from lack of oxygen from laughing so hard. The banging from Gareth's cockpit increased.

"Nope, not imagining that," Gareth's voice turned strained. "Fuck you Knuckles."

"With or without Natasha?" I asked innocently. "Cuz I don't mind either way."

Luckily for Gareth, air traffic came over the radio, clearing the three Raptors to take off. The joking and teasing was quickly forgotten as the other pilots got their game faces on. Sitting 50 feet behind a F-22 tearing off down the runway was always a spine tingling experience. Today was no exception. Every hair on my body stood on end hearing and feeling everything through the F-35 cockpit as the Raptors took off. All of a sudden, it was my turn. Air traffic control crackled to life in my ear letting me know I was cleared for take off.

The F-35's power kicked in even more as I upped the throttle. If I was a guy I'm sure I'd have a boner by now. I couldn't even begin to describe the feeling of the power underneath me. I was so pumped and ready to go, I couldn't stop bouncing in my seat. I released the brakes and hurtled down the runway. The g-force shoved me back into the seat as I climbed to speed. In a few seconds I was lifting off into the clear afternoon sky. The ground rapidly fell away quickly as I climbed into the air, the buildings and runways shrinking away to nothing as I climbed to 8000 feet.

The F-35 handled like a dream. It felt like I barely had to touch anything and the jet was already doing it. I couldn't help myself, I rolled her a few times while climbing to altitude. The jet smoothly handled the manoeuvre at a higher speed than I should be doing so easily.

"Oh baby, you are one sweet ride," I laughed as I straightened out. "I can't wait to test you out."

"I think you just made your handler sick," Agent Browning's voice came over the radio. He sounded very amused. "Keep it steady for a few minutes. There's no need to push yourself."

Fuck it. For once in my life I wasn't going to be a good girl and listen. I was the last choice for doing this, so it's not like they were going to ground me if I misbehaved. I pulled back on the throttle, a little harder than necessary, watching the airspeed climb with ease. It was strange feeling g-force again. My body pushed against the seat and I fought against the feeling of wanting to slouch down as my body got heavier. I was going to be so sore by the time this flight was over.

Unfortunately my speed increase didn't create any protests. I did hear Agent Browning grumble under his breath something about 'fucking STRIKE Team Delta' before he went silent over the radio. Feeling like a naughty teenager, I tested how manoeuvrable the F-35 really was. I flipped the jet over, enjoying the feeling of hanging by my harness and let the jet fall away from altitude for a few feet. Everything felt weightless for a few seconds before the forces of gravity kicked back in. I was grinning like an idiot as I rightened myself again. That was one of my favourite things to do, besides going as fast as I possibly could. Those few seconds of completely weightlessness just couldn't be felt anywhere else.

I didn't have any time to play with anything, I was right on the edge of our designated playground. Not that it mattered for needing extra time to get used to the different jet. It was so simple, I could have stuck Clint in here and he'd manage to fly it. Totally fucking magic.

The rules of this hop was very simple. It was a good old fashioned dog fight. Last man standing wins. The three Raptors again my F-35. I was going to fuck them all up by being the last woman standing. My ego would not let me lose today.

If the boys were smart, they'd have one of them hanging around somewhere in plain sight to draw me out. Radar was useless, as all our jets were stealth. So it was old fashioned eyes and gut instinct only. I banked hard to the left, keeping on the outskirts on where our 'fight zone' was designated. I made a circuit of the edges, pushing the F-35 faster than I should with such tight high speed turns. But it was so easy, and a little fun to be dancing on the edges of caution.

Like I predicated, I caught sight of one of the Raptors low at my 4 o'clock. He was just cruising along with no sense of urgency.

"Hello bait," I murmured to myself. I did a bat turn to avoid being seen. There was a little bit of cloud cover, but not enough to really shield myself. If the bait was there, then the other two wouldn't be far away. I could fly around and waste time, or I could do something bold.

Fuck it. Today was the day for being bold.

I turned hard again, hitting the throttle. It only took a few seconds to shoot past the bait Raptor.

"Come and get me," I sang, grinning to myself. I craned my head around, very pleased to see whoever it was following me. Now, the question was, where were the other two?

My question got answered a second later as the other two Raptors shot past me coming from the opposite direction. One on either side.

"Hello there boys." I glanced in my mirrors. I still had one behind me and the other two were making sweeping turns to come back in behind me. I slowed down a little, drawing the Raptor behind me in closer. Right before he had a chance to get any sort of missile lock on, I pulled up vertical. The F-35 responded instantly with a lot more speed than I intended. I shot away from the Raptor easily. My next move was ballsy, but it should go off easily.

"Come and get me." I looked back again. My tail was still with me, but the other two had disappeared into the clouds. I let him get close again before doing a sharp four point roll. It was basically jerking the jet around at 90 degree intervals to confuse anyone behind you. I didn't give him time to react or follow, I did a sharp loop, straight up and over, and ended up behind him. From there it was a simple flick of the switch and I had missile lock.

"Bingo," I said smartly. Whoever it was instantly peeled away. I had their radio frequency turned off, but I'm sure there was a lot of swearing going on. I didn't have time to ponder over it. If my concentration slipped, I'd lose. I banked hard to the left, searching for the other two jets.

I barely had time to draw a breath before they were both on me. I went on the defensive, spinning and twisting to make it impossible to get a missile lock on me. This is what I was good at. I wasn't afraid of risky moves at high speed. I flew completely by the seat of my pants and made myself unpredictable. Maybe the movie Top Gun had rubbed off on me a bit too much when I was a kid. Not that I would ever, ever admit that out loud.

No matter what they did, neither of the two Raptors could get close to me. Any time one got close, I'd dart out of the way. It was fun to draw them in only to dance just out of reach again. Both of them were doing more and more aggressive manurers to try and throw me off balance. I was burning through a lot of gas with the speed I was doing and the strain I kept putting the jet under. I couldn't play with my food forever. I was going to be Maverick in more ways than one today.

I hit the brakes and just before the jet stalled, I engaged the hover. Both the Raptors screamed past me at high speed.

"Oh nice move!" Agent Brownings voice came over the radio. I'd been concentrating so hard on flying I'd ignored everything except what I was doing. I grinned in response and re-engaged forward flight.

"Can I call you Maverick now?" Clint asked.

"Fuck off, I'm busy," I said calmly. I'd punch him for that later though. If he started calling me Maverick, he was going to be Legolas for the rest of his life. Clint hated it enough that my ringtone for him was still 'They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard.'

Both the Raptors separated. I quickly banked following the one to the left. Whoever it was had been making a few tiny mistakes. Nothing that I could act on, but it was enough to show he was either getting tired or flustered. He should be the easier one of the pair to pick off quickly. I increased my speed through the turn, hoping to close the distance between us quicker.

The jet didn't like the speed we were going at for the angle I was turning. I was too fast. The blood rushed from my head at the force I was putting on my body. I instantly backed off, sucking in a huge lungful of oxygen to get my head straight again. Oops. Rookie mistake. That could have been bad. I ignored the panicked calls of asking if I was all right over the radio and kept on the tail of the Raptor. Whoever it was kept me honest. It took every bit of concentration and skill I had to stick with him. But he finally made a mistake of slowing down for a brief second. It was enough for me to get a missile lock on.

I didn't stay still long enough to gloat. The last Raptor was out there somewhere and had been hanging back on purpose. It seems someone really wanted a one on one fight with me. I had a pretty good feeling about who it was too.

"You're all mine now Knuckles," Gareth's voice confirmed my suspicion. "You're going down."

I didn't reply to his tormenting. I was too busy looking around trying to pin down where he was. If he was smart, he would have gotten behind me and stayed there. But if I remembered correctly, Frogger tended to be more like me. Fly by the seat of your pants and be unpredictable. So he could be anywhere. But his ego also got in the way of his brain sometimes, which made him prone to stupid mistakes.

"Come out, come out where ever you are little frog," I opened up the radio channel, taunting my opponent. If I got under his skin enough he'd come out guns blazing.

"Where's the fun in that?" the smirk in Gareth's voice was clear.

A glint below me at my 2 o'clock caught my eye. It was hard to see in the clouds and where it was positioned, but it was a safe guess it was Gareth. Cheeky little shit hanging just below my wings. I was right, he could have had a clear shot at any time. But he just wanted to play with me first.

"Oh Frogger, I can taste that scotch already." I didn't hesitate. I went straight for him. He shot off ahead of me, pulling a complicated zig zag pattern that was impossible to get a lock on while you were doing it. But I wasn't deterred. I followed him, sticking as close as I possibly could. His movements were meant to look like he was getting desperate. But I knew better. He wanted to draw me in, let me get cocky and make a mistake. So I followed, hanging back enough that I knew it'd piss him off. It only took a minute for his irrational to show.

"I thought you had bigger balls than that Knuckles," Gareth's teased. "Can't you handle that big jet enough to catch me?"

Before I could respond, Gareth suddenly shot downwards, pulling his Raptor around in a defensive spiral. I grinned, following him a second later. This was about to become the ultimate game of chicken. In a downward defensive spiral, the idea was to stay out of the attackers way long enough to avoid getting shot down. At the last second, you would pull up and hope your attacker would hit the hard deck. It was risky, because you lost a lot of power and momentum in a downward spiral and if your attacker anticipated your last second move, you'd be the one to be shot down.

Most guys would pull away to their non dominant side. Which meant 99% of people would go left. However, Gareth was left handed, so it was likely he'd pull away to the right. With his cockiness, he'd do it at the very last second too.

Well, I hoped. I could also end up putting the F-35 into the ground in a fiery explosion. If that happened I'm sure Coulson would have a way of finding my ghost and punishing me.

I felt my stomach flip over several times as we both shot downwards. My body was starting to complain about the strain I was putting it under. I could feel the sweat pouring off me, despite the climate control blasting freezing air over me. My legs and abs were screaming at me for the constant tension I'd kept through my body. My left foot was going numb and my right arm had pins and needles in it from gripping the control stick too hard. Another rookie mistake I was doing.

"Come on, come on," I murmured, pushing the F-35 as hard as I dared. The altitude was falling away quicker and quicker the closer to the ground we got. We hit 150 feet and I was still with him. Gareth's nerves must have failed him at 100ft, he veered to the right. Just as I predicted. I went straight with him, setting myself up for the perfect shot. Half a second later, I had missile lock.

"Say my name bitch," I laughed breathlessly. "You're all mine."

"Motherfuc…" Gareth turned his radio off before he could finish the curse.

I wouldn't be able to wipe the smile off my face for the next month. Today had been a very good day. Today I was the baddest motherfucker around and nothing could change ever change that. It was a very good feeling.

Authors Note

Sorry about the updates all over the place at the moment everyone. I cant promise time frames, but there will definitely be another one before the year is over.

This was a lot of fun and really hard all at the same time. I'm obviously not a fighter pilot, so some of this was a bit of poetic license and as much research as possible. Writing Kari in her element was so much fun. It did end up being longer than anticipated, so its been split up so you all aren't waiting until next year for it.

Thank you to everyone who leaves a review. I love every single one of them. I know I say it a lot, but I really do. Seeing that review notification in my email makes me day, no matter what I'm doing.
Until next time