Three Strikes

by bluebellwren

Naomi Foulke - TAC 'Trigger' - the latest in a line of air force prodigies, becomes the OADF's scapegoat when she's wrongfully accused of murdering former President Harling. In the midst of war against Erusea, she's sent to a penal unit to atone. Determined to redeem herself and swiftly end the war, she finds herself facing threats from all sides as she grows from prisoner to hero.

30. Coming Storm

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Coming Storm

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New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.
September 8th, 2019.
0933hrs.

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It was early in the morning and Wiseman had asked everyone to come to HQ. At least, everyone except for Clemens, that is. They'd somehow managed to avoid getting found out and Wiseman and Hawkins had organized a bit of a briefing. They'd even managed to get their analyst, David North, to agree to a video call just for this. No one was sure what the meeting was for, just that it was obviously important for everyone that would be flying. Looking around the room, Pixy could see that everyone, Tailor and Fencer included, were seated in the room. He stood at the front, beside Wiseman and Long Caster. The base commander hadn't joined them yet, and everyone had realized that Clemens had been keeping him out of the picture as much as possible.

He glanced towards the door as they waited for their call to Oured to connect, then over at Wiseman with a curious expression. "Colonel Hawkins isn't joining us?" Pixy asked him. Wiseman looked up and seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Pixy could already guess the answer. He frowned, feeling as though something wasn't right without the base commander himself being there. "So, he won't be joining us, then? Is there any reason why he's been hiding off in his office, or is he just trying to keep a low profile?"

"We figured that bringing everyone here without getting Clemens' attention was tricky enough as it was and bringing the base commander would only raise more suspicion than we'd already be facing," Wiseman replied, offering a reassuring smile. "I spoke with the commander, and he said that he's alright with sitting back and focusing on a bit of paperwork. He's considered getting in touch with someone to try and warn them about Clemens, but so far he's just been looking into active mercenary units to track down those bats that engaged Trigger. It's not like he's completely out of the picture, just working behind the scenes so we can keep the brigadier general off our backs for a bit."

Pixy nodded slowly. "Right...if you say so. I just hope that we're not going to have more trouble with base commanders." He looked over at where his daughter was sitting, talking with her wingmen. Count, as usual, was sitting right beside her. Pixy was keeping an eye on him. Naomi seemed to trust him and his loyalty was surprisingly admirable. He was always right by her side. Then again, so was Tabloid. In fact, on Naomi's other side, he sat with his usual grin on his face. At least they were all happy for now. No telling how bad things could get, though. Pixy sighed, crossing his arms. "Everyone who used to be from Spare is probably tired of dealing with leaders who would sooner sell them out then risk anything to save them."

Long Caster spoke up next. "There's no need to worry about that, sir," he said, also looking towards where the pilots were sitting. "Commander Hawkins has always been on our side. He's as loyal to Osea as it comes. He'd never endanger his men. Same goes for Wiseman."

"I don't doubt Wiseman. Your judgement hasn't been wrong yet, though, so I suppose I'm being a little unfair on Hawkins," Pixy said. He wasn't a bad guy, by any means, and he'd seen service for some time now. This wasn't his first war, and it likely wasn't his first time in charge either. Pixy only worried that he might lack the stomach for a war on this scale, where loyalties were being questioned left and right within their own command structure. He might very well be wrong, but only time would be able to tell that. "Just worried about a repeat McKinsey, that's all."

"The only person that we should worry about that with would probably be Clemens," Wiseman answered, focusing more on the computer screen than he was on the conversation. With one last click, he finally stood back and looked to the larger screen on the wall. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Now, that should do it. David said he'd be ready around this time. The call's going through, so provided everything connects like it's supposed to then we shouldn't run into any issues." He turned slightly to get a clear view of the others and raised his voice a bit to be heard over their own conversation. "Hey! Quiet down! This is important, so I want you all to pay attention."

The conversation among the younger pilots and Jaeger all died down, although Count rolled his eyes at the order. He didn't try and argue, though, and everyone's attention turned to the screen as David answered their call. The face of the young analyst showed up on their screen, appearing a bit pixelated at first before the feed cleared up and everyone was able to see him clearly. "Ah, I see everyone's here. That's perfect!" he said, in a surprisingly chipper tone for how early it was in Oured. "I wanted to speak with you all without the brigadier general present. Something about him has me worried that he might be involved with Erusea somehow. Until I get some more digging done, I can't say anything for certain, but I do want to talk with you about a few other things."

"Really?" Naomi asked, raising an eyebrow. She had a playful smirk, and it was no wonder considering the somewhat joking question she had for David. "Are we going to have another chance on your quiz show or is this strictly business?"

David smiled at this, sheepishly answering her. "Well, that all depends, really. We'll see how the conversation goes." He looked away from them and typed something into his own computer before turning back to them. "I've sent over some data I've put together, along with a recording of a transmission some of our allies received while the Alicorn was making her escape. We believe that the captain of the Alicorn, Matias Torres, might have intended for Strider Squadron to hear this, but they didn't pick it up. However, your AWACS picked it up instead. I spent the last few days trying to clean up as much of the radio interference as I could, so it's a lot easier to hear him."

Pixy watched as Long Caster took over the keyboard, clicking a few times before an ID photo of Torres appeared on the screen. The name of the sound file was just under that. With another click, Long Caster played the audio and everyone listened carefully to the recording. The voice of Torres filled the silence in the room, albeit sounding a bit more odd and muffled than it normally would. "This boat has the means to end this hideous war in a definitive and elegant manner. The world shall be horrified by the number of lives that we will take...only then will they let go of their weapons. Weapons that would have taken the lives of ten million!"

Everyone looked a bit startled and thoughtful as the speech came to an end, and it took a couple of moments before anyone finally spoke up. "Sounds a bit weird to me. Erusea's made some pretty ballsy moves lately, but that's taking it to a different level. What are they planning, anyways?" Tabloid asked, looking at the screen with his brow furrowed. The gears were obviously turning in his head as he tried to work out some theories and answer his own question, but he wasn't fast enough. If he was, then he kept it to himself as everyone else began to ask their own questions.

"Has the Erusean military made a statement about all of this?" Naomi asked them. Everyone looked as if they were trying to make sense of the speech. It was straightforward, but also confusing at the same time. Naomi glanced at Pixy and he had a feeling that she recognized a radical ideology a mile away and expected him to know something about Torres' motivations. But he didn't. She went on, looking away from him after a few seconds. "I know that their princess has been giving a lot of pro-war speeches to get their troops riled up, but I haven't heard anything about that lately. If they had something this big planned, surely they'd want to make a big deal about it...right?"

It was Tailor that answered the question. "Actually, Princess Cossette has been pulled from all of her scheduled public appearances. There's been some doubt within their own military and the Princess expressed this during one of her speeches, apparently having some doubts herself. After that, her father and one of their military leaders went public to say that she was remaining out of politics for a while after disrespecting the King and his wishes or something like that," he explained, and everyone looked amazed by the information. Tailor's face suddenly turned a shade of pink out of embarrassment and he slouched in his seat as he nervously explained, "My mother's half Erusean and she's been keeping up with the D'Elise family's politics since their abrupt rise to power. I follow Erusean news whenever I can out of habit and I've been listening to the Princess' speeches since the start of the war is all. You have to admit, she's fairly charismatic and at one point believed what she was saying...b-but it's possible that her father and the government have been using her as a pawn and just a pretty face to win people over."

"The government always uses people as a pawn, whether they're in politics or not," Tabloid grumbled.

Count spoke up next, perking up in his seat as he got an idea. "Hey, maybe lover boy has a point there."

At the use of the nickname, Tailor scoffed and glared at Count, looking even more embarrassed than he did before and seeming to puff himself up defensively. "Lover boy? That's ridiculous! You've gotta be delusional or something to think that..."

"Yeah, well, you can defend your pride later, kid." Count smirked at him and Naomi smacked him on the arm as a silent warning to get back on track. He rolled his eyes at her and Pixy couldn't help but chuckle a little at the exchange. Count's expression and tone went serious again as he started to explain his theory. "Well, if there are doubts within the Erusean ranks about the war, then that means that there has to be a heavily pro-war side that still remains. If they're so worried about keeping up appearances that they bar their own princess from speaking out of fear that she'll influence them in the opposite direction, then that means somebody has to be pulling strings behind the scenes to keep the war going. That being said, there may be some pro-war Eruseans that want the war to end in an Erusean victory regardless of the lengths that they take to achieve that, right?"

"It's possible, sure," Skald said, his fingers pressed against his chin as he thought. He actually almost looked bored. "But is it likely?"

"Yeah, it is, actually," Jaeger replied, giving Count a small smile. He almost looked impressed by the statement. He looked over at Skald. "People will go to crazy lengths to stop a war. Some people may consider it a fair exchange and a small price to pay. You take a handful of lives to save an entire nation, while simultaneously managing to cripple your enemy from fighting back for a while. They'll be too busy trying to handle the devastation in the aftermath. The war will end, or at the very least come to a cease fire."

Pixy felt guilt begin to way down on him and he tried to push away the memory of the lengths he'd almost gone through to stop a war. He'd been trying to erase borders completely, though, not bring a victory to one country. That's why he defected. But did Torres defect or was this all part of Erusea's plan? He noticed everyone had looked over to him after hearing what Jaeger had to say, and he swallowed nervously, glancing uncomfortably over at Wiseman. Even David seemed to be watching him. Pixy took a steady breath and finally spoke up. "It's possible that that's what his plan is. It sounds that way to me, at least. He'll probably try and attack somewhere in Osea, or likely try and hit our own bases, right? Hell, if I were him then I'd go for the very thing that started this war in the first place. The Lighthouse."

"Yeah..." Fencer said, glancing at the Usean map displayed on the screen. He looked like he focused on where the space elevator was highlighted. "Erusea has been bitching about that stupid thing long before the war started. You know, in spite of the fact that it isn't on their land. They might try and destroy it, and any forces that get in their way along with it. Now that Harling's out of their way, the last place they can lay the blame is on the Lighthouse."

David nodded with a pleased look on his face. It was like he knew something that they didn't. "Not bad, Lieutenant Winters! That's a pretty good guess, but the threat on a million lives doesn't add up if you're considering the space elevator as his target. The death toll would be in the thousands but only provided he chose to destroy all of Selatapura along with it." He paused and looked down at some notes he had placed in front of him. "But...yeah, it's just as I thought. It wouldn't fit into his plan. But, if Lieutenant O'Connor is onto something — and I think that he might be — then it's safe to assume that the Alicorn could be operating separately from Erusea's main military. It either defected or someone within their government is using it as a pawn."

"Is there any way that it could be both?" Naomi asked him.

He paused, blinking in surprise at her question. "Hmmm...why didn't I think of that?" he muttered under his breath. Adjusting the pair of glasses that he wore, he spun his swivel chair slightly and disappeared from their view for a minute before returning a few seconds later with a bunch of files in his hands. David opened them up and flicked through some of the papers, whispering to himself as he did. At last he tossed them aside and turned his attention back to them. "I'll look into it a bit more and try running some simulations. If anything comes up, I'll try and contact you as soon as I can. In the meantime, be careful and keep an eye on Clemens. If he is a traitor, there's no telling what he'll try. For now, I'm gonna say good luck to you all."

"Roger that, David. We'll do our best," Wiseman answered. "Good luck to you as well."

With a 'goodbye' from everyone else, David disconnected the call and the window that displayed the feed collapsed from the screen, showing only the Usean continent and the LRSSG's emblem on the screen now. Everyone went quiet for a moment before Wiseman spoke up again. "Well, I can't think of anything else to go over right now. Jaeger's already filled us in on everything to do with Clemens and those newcomers from the other day and David's working hard back in Oured. I suppose that you're all free to go if no one else has anything to say." Wiseman waited for anyone to speak up, looking around expectantly, but no other comment came. He nodded. "Right. Well, you're dismissed, then. Let me know if anything suspicious happens around base."

"Righto," came the answer from Count as everyone stood up, the silence filled with shuffling sounds as a result. Count stretched out his arms with a groan as he stood up, letting his arms fall to his side once he was finished. He looked at Naomi, glancing behind her briefly at Tailor, wearing a smirk like usual. "What say we all head to the hangars to bother the Scrap Queen, huh? Maybe aggravate Bandog a little bit too. And on the way there we can talk about Tailor's little crush."

They all laughed at the much younger pilot's expense, Tailor now looking like he was about ready to explode. Considering the height difference between him and Count, it was actually kind of funny to witness. "It's not a crush! Is that all you think about!?"

Pixy stifled a laugh as everyone headed out, all of them teasing Tailor as they left. Naomi caught Pixy's eye as they left, her smile remaining but something in her eyes telling him that she was trying to figure out if the situation bothered him or brought up any bad memories. He had to admit, it wasn't something he wanted to deal with, but the situation in itself wasn't too much of a problem. Luckily for him, Naomi wouldn't be around to ask anymore questions or stare at him any longer, as she was quickly called over by Count and Tabloid when she hesitated. She followed them out, quickly joining back in on the joking. The door shut and the chattering became more and more muffled until they could no longer hear them.

Aside from Long Caster and Wiseman, the only other person to remain in the room was Jaeger. He made sure that no one had stayed behind and that nobody could hear them before he looked to the other three men. "That speech we got from that guy...we aren't dealing with a possible comeback of A World With No Boundaries, are we? Maybe some new terrorist group?"

"No, it's not A World With No Boundaries," Pixy answered quickly, already knowing for a fact that this guy only had slight similarities with them. "If Count and David are right, then it sounds to me like they're fighting for Erusea. They want borders to remain and they want to bring an end to the war with a definite Erusean victory. The only thing that he probably shares with AWWNB is the whole 'kill x amount of people to save x amount of people' thing that he's got going on. It's not like it's an uncommon belief, either. Like you said, Jaeger, you cripple the opposing force, be it their military or..." He had to pause. There was just no escaping his past, now was there? He sighed, reluctantly going on. "Be it their military...or civilians. It's possible that he might try to attack somewhere in Osea. Likely Oured, to take out the capital. The question is, when?"

"There's no way to tell right away," Long Caster said with a concerned look on his face. "Who knows when they'd try it? And with Clemens possibly leading us down the wrong track, there's no way to know if we could figure out the date."

Jaeger frowned, and for the first time since Pixy had known him, he heard him sound close to afraid. "I have a family in Oured. My wife and son are there. You don't really think they'll attack the capital, do you?"

Wiseman's shoulders fell, and he looked frustrated and tired. Pixy could understand why. Jaeger, Wiseman, Long Caster, and even Pixy had all been working hard to keep up a confident, brave face for the rest of them and it was starting to take its toll. Wiseman was the glue that held them together. If they saw that he wasn't sure and that he was afraid, then the panic would spread. Around them, he was more willing to let his guard down. He closed his eyes for a moment to think, letting out an almost defeated sigh.

"We all have family in Oured," Wiseman said, opening his eyes again and staring ahead with a blank expression. "But we don't know for sure if they'll even attack Osea, so there's no need to go and get worked up over nothing when it might not even happen. It's more likely that they'll try and take out military forces in Usea, so we should contact our bases along the coast and tell them to be on the lookout. We already have the IUN on standby if we need the help. With the way things are going, we might need their help after all. Oh, that reminds me. An old friend of yours is in charge of Fort Grays now and he wanted me to give you his regards."

Pixy hadn't stuck around long enough to officially meet the new base commander before he left, and it surprised him to hear that someone he knew was in charge. It couldn't have been Cipher, since he was still in Osea and he never quit being a mercenary until he retired. There was only one other person that could still be serving, and still was if his memory served him correctly. Pixy rolled his eyes, chuckling. "So, PJ actually decided to get back in the game. And here I was thinking that the moron was taking a vacation. Well, it's nice to know he's being useful for once. If you end up chatting with him again, let him know that I said 'hello'. You're also free to tell him that he's still an idiot."

Wiseman raised an eyebrow, an amused gleam in his eyes. "You really are old friends, huh?"

"Eh. I wouldn't say we're 'friends' but we used to work together and thanks to Cipher we end up seeing one another every now and then," Pixy answered with a shrug. He skipped over the part about shooting PJ down and causing him to be in a wheelchair for several months, since they'd probably put two and two together once they realized who PJ was. It's not like it was a big mystery, it was just something they avoided talking about. "Our relationship's always been kinda shaky, but he's a good kid. Heh. Not really a kid anymore, is he?"

"Far from it, I'd say. He didn't seem like a bad guy, though," Wiseman replied with a smile. He chuckled. "I can't promise I'll pass on the message word for word, but I'll still let him know you said hi."

"Thanks, Wiseman," Pixy said with a grin. If he had the chance, he might just pass the message on himself. He'd have to set aside some time, but who knew when they'd both be free? Probably better if he stayed out of it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out of the window that showed a view of the rest of the base. It had been windy lately, and he wasn't looking forward to going outside and facing the weather, though he knew he wouldn't have a choice. The weather had been flip flopping between hot and cold, but it wouldn't be long before he could finally, comfortably wear his jacket. "Well, I'm going to head off. I'll try and keep an eye on Clemens. Here's hoping we're overthinking this, though."

Nodding to the three of them, he turned and headed for the door. He wanted some alone time, away from people that expected him to know everything about radical ideas simply because of a stupid chapter from his past. They meant no harm, but it would have been nice if they didn't jump to conclusions. It shouldn't bother him as much as it did, and he realized that there wasn't any escaping a stigma because of what he'd almost done, and yet he still found himself upset by it. Even his own daughter acted like she expected him to know someone's motives for something based on a single speech.

Guess I should have known what would come from this. It's my own fault, really. He thought with a sigh. Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it.

---

1020hrs.

The door to his quarters closed behind him, and the lock on the door clicked to let him know that no one could barge in now. Pixy took off his jacket and tossed it onto his bed, opening the blinds to allow the mid-morning light access. He opened up his laptop on the desk in the room, typing in his password and finding a notification that someone had emailed him. Curiously, he opened the mail application and clicked on the recent email. Suspicious at first, solely due to the fact that the message was labeled [No Subject] and the address that sent it was hidden, he read it regardless. If a virus was about to be downloaded onto his computer or something like that, he could always just throw it out the window or something and get a new one.

It was a pleasant surprise to see that it was from his son and not a hacker. As most messages were from him, it was short and to the point. 'Finally been stationed somewhere else - in Usea again. Unpacking now. I'm bored. Call me when you can.' Pixy couldn't help but crack a small smile as he read the short email, not surprised at all by the phrasing of it. It sounded exactly like something he'd say, which left little to no doubt in his mind about who it was. Shaking his head, he closed the window with the message and moved the cursor over to his contacts, searching for Roland's name until he finally reached it, pressing the 'video call' button.

His webcam was activated and the computer opened up a new window that displayed an image of his own face while the word 'CALLING...' appeared with a trilling sound. The sound and message continued for a couple of seconds before the call was finally answered. At first, the video showed nothing more than an empty office seat until someone plopped down into it and leaned back. He was greeted by the face of his son, light brown hair slicked back and blue eyes shining even though they were a little bloodshot from a lack of sleep. He was wearing his dress uniform, his name and rank displayed proudly on it. He grinned and waved to the camera as a greeting. "Well, I see you got my message."

"You couldn't have used your personal email?" Pixy asked him in an almost teasing way, raising an eyebrow. "You had me worried that I was clicking on some scam or something like that."

Roland shrugged, not looking or sounding concerned in any way. "I was already logged into my work email. There wasn't any reason not to use it, and it isn't like the military will do anything to me for it. I'm too important to them."

"Somebody's awfully modest," Pixy said, rolling his eyes. Roland laughed, but didn't try and dispute the claim. There was a pause as they tried to think of something to talk about. Admittedly, Pixy's relationship with his son had always been a bit tricky. They weren't very much alike, and if anything, Roland took after his mother more than he took after Pixy. And when Roland joined the air force after he moved out, their relationship didn't get much better. They'd reached a common ground after the first Continental War and had a much stronger relationship than they had many years ago, but Roland was always wrapped up in his work and they rarely spoke. Pixy, hoping to avoid an awkward silence, asked the first thing that came to mind. "So, you finally got sent back to Usea, huh? You planning on fighting in this war, too?"

"Eh, it all depends. North Point is staying out of the war as long as they can, and that's where they decided to send me. Again. As usual..." Roland's tone changed to one of mild annoyance as he shuffled some things around on his desk, talking while he unpacked and tidied up, apparently. He glanced at the screen, trying for a small smile. "I'm not worried about it. If what I've been hearing is true, it sounds like the LRSSG is doing my job for me. Especially that new pilot. From what I hear, she and I have a couple of things in common. Fort Grays...Usea...Erusea's 'invincible' fleets. Not to mention the name. So, tell me, how's 'Solo Wing Strikes' doing?"

Pixy chuckled, shaking his head. "Heh. That's what they're calling her?"

"Eh. It was a joke that I heard it from some of my old friends that work around Fort Grays. Apparently someone from there came up with it." His smile remained, but the subject changed to a slightly more serious one. "For real, though. How's Naomi doing?"

"I can't really tell most of the time. She seems alright, but I worry that she might be a little stressed with her new role. Not to mention that there's still some tension between the LRSSG pilots and all of Naomi's friends from Zapland," Pixy replied, slowly tapping his finger on his desk to keep from jumping into a rant about every opinion he had on the topic. "I spoke with your mother about my concerns. She's adjusting well, and everyone's starting to trust one another, but sooner or later all that pent up anger that she has after her time in prison is either going to get out on the ground or it's going to kill her in the air. She flies like she has a death wish."

"Well, if the rumors are true, then it sounds like she might outdo both of us," Roland said as he looked over some framed photos he'd pulled out, setting them out of Pixy's view on his own desk. "I guess it's time we start admitting that we're an old generation of aces. All I fly now are escorts, if that, and my little sister is out here blowing Erusea's shit to pieces and putting me to shame. The infamous Grim Reaper apparently can't compete with a trigger-happy ex-con, huh? The IUN is keeping me out of it because everyone here in North Point is telling us to let Three Strikes handle it. I'd be lying if I'm not a little jealous that Naomi's getting so much attention, but what did we all expect from her, really?"

The tone that he used was a little bitter, and Pixy couldn't really fault him for being jealous. After all, the IUN acted like they owned him all because of his title and actions during the Continental War. Now that they had no use for him, he was stuck with desk duty while his sister went out and fought. Roland had been a good pilot. He still was a good pilot. But he was right in saying that his time had passed. New pilots were taking to the skies every day, and inevitably someone that was better would rise up and take the spotlight. Mobius One's time had passed, as had Pixy and Cipher's, and even the Razgriz. No matter how hard any of them tried to fight it, 'reliving the glory days' would rarely work out.

Pixy would always be proud of all of his children, and Roland deserved every bit of admiration he still received, but Naomi was rising to the top and she was going to need all the help she could get. He hoped that Roland wouldn't resent Naomi, as they'd been close when Naomi was younger. He was the first one that she told about wanting to be a pilot, and used to tell her all about different aircraft. Whenever he visited after the war, he'd tell Naomi about his experiences. Pixy would listen to his stories to, having been fighting on the ground during that war. But everything about planes and the battles that he could tell to a ten-year-old had been said, from how much he hated flying the F-4 to how exhilarating it was to fly an F-22 for the first time.

Naomi never found out about his identity as the 'Ribbon Fighter' either. Every time she tried to bring it up to him, asking once or twice if he was Mobius One, it was always met with a dismissive 'yeah, I knew him' or 'we fought a couple of battles together', which never satisfied Naomi. Something told them that she probably figured it out, or at the very least suspected it, but she stopped pressing the question after a few years. Pixy always thought that Roland didn't enjoy the fame he had, since he never actively spoke about it unless someone brought it up, but after his last promotion it seemed that he had started taking more pride in it. That was the only reason that he'd be jealous or threatened by Naomi's rising fame.

Nobody in their family joined the military for fame, but receiving some recognition for their accomplishments was nice. And the military had been better at giving them said recognition, instead of letting their commanders (that sat and did nothing) the credit. Hopefully Roland wasn't letting it go to his head. Pixy noticed that the awkward silence was trying to make a comeback, and he could see a somewhat frustrated look on his son's face. Wracking his brain for something else to say, he decided that they'd talk about the topic that they had in common. Something that they knew well. Work. "The LRSSG and the IUN might be taking on an Erusean submarine soon. You probably heard about it. Their captain is some madman that sounds like he wants to go on some killing spree."

"I heard about that on the news." Roland said distractedly as he wrote something down on the papers in front of him, then rummaged through some more boxes. "The Alicorn. Captain is Matias Torres, right?"

"Yeah, that's his name," Pixy answered. "You know him?"

Roland shrugged as he sat back in his chair, unwrapping the paper from around what was likely a delicate decoration. "More or less," he replied, the crunching of the paper almost drowning his voice out. Finally, it stopped, and he was allowed to continue without any interference. "He's had quite the service record and used to be the captain of a ship in the oh so great 'Invincible Fleet'. Heh. Erusea can get pretty arrogant with their naming, huh? We left the fleet in ruins, just sinking and burning in the harbor. I think I was the one that sunk the ship he was on. A little while after the war was over, someone showed me something he'd said or written or whatever and the guy just went on a rant about how much of a monster I was. That lasted a few months I think? I never really cared and after that I stopped hearing about him. I figured that he retired."

"Nope, he's still keeping busy," Pixy said, the story raising some concerns. "The way things are looking, they might not be able to take care of it without destroying the Alicorn. If he hated you that much, imagine how much he'll probably hate Naomi..."

Roland's eyes widened and he looked towards the camera with a worried look on his face. As if he came to some horrible realization. As it turns out, he had. "They can't find out that Naomi and I are related. I mean, it's possible her identity might have been leaked somewhere and mine to, but if Torres finds out about our relation...well, I'm just worried that he'll take this as an opportunity to take revenge," he said quickly, looking around the room nervously before his eyes flicked back to Pixy. "I couldn't care less about the guy, but I'm pretty sure that what I did is what sent him over the edge. If he has a really personal stake in this, then he might stop at nothing until Naomi's dead. Hopefully they don't know, but if they do then I don't want to be responsible for her death. At least tell her to be careful."

"Careful isn't in her vocabulary." Pixy knew that Roland was right, but he also knew that Naomi wouldn't listen to them. If somebody pointed out the dangers, she'd probably take it as an invitation to fight even harder. She just didn't know when to give in. He sighed. "I'll try and tell her, but there's no guarantee that she'll listen."

"Yeah, that's one more thing you two have in common," Roland said with a smirk. His worry seemed to be fading and he'd gone back to what he was doing. "Just keep her out of trouble if you can, since I'm not allowed to get involved."

"Like I said, I'll try," Pixy answered, debating getting onto Roland for his first comment. It was true, his kids probably learned the stubbornness from him, but he wasn't going to admit it. Roland and Samantha had their moments, but Naomi was probably the only one that could compete with him when it came to being stubborn. Even if she had mellowed out as an adult. "Anyways, I should probably leave you to your unpacking. Don't want any of your higher ups getting onto you for talking on the job."

"Pfft. 'On the job'. Yeah, funny you should say that, since I'm not getting paid for this crap," Roland scoffed. "Half of these boxes are freaking paperwork that they insist I drag with me everywhere. And you know as well as I do that I'd get nothing more than a slap on the wrist from the top brass for slacking off."

"I wouldn't get too cocky, son," Pixy answered. His words, although a warning, were still light due to his own amusement.

Roland was about to respond, but the faint sound of someone calling his name from offscreen drew his attention away and he looked towards what Pixy assumed was his door. "What is it? Wha...now? They can't wait until later? Ha. Of course they can't. Alright, I'll be there in a minute. Thanks." He looked back at his screen and at Pixy and sighed. "Well, the generals they got sitting on their asses up here found out that I arrived and now want me to come and chat with them over lunch. Smug bastards. They have us sitting here, doing nothing, and practically living in luxury while everyone in Osea gets to go out and have all the fun. I should be working too, you know! I should have a say in whether or not I work!"

"Well, if they gave that much free will then nobody would do anything. You'd probably be one of the few working," Pixy said. "Well, I have stuff to occupy myself with here. I should probably give your mother a call, so I'll let you go. Have fun at lunch."

"Yeah, I'm sure we'll have a lot of laughs..." Roland replied flatly, scowling distastefully at the mere thought of it. "But yeah, I'll try. Anyways, I'll talk to you later. Bye, Dad. Tell everyone I said hello!"

"Heh. Wilco," Pixy replied, smiling. "Bye."

And with that, the call was ended. Pixy relaxed in his seat with a tired sigh as he shut down his computer. Roland wasn't typically very chatty, and their conversations were often short and scattered. It was just how things had always been. Still, it was nice that he'd had a chance to talk with his son. It still worried him that Erusea knew about Naomi's real name, especially now that Roland had to bring it up and remind him. If McKinsey and Matthews truly succeeded in spreading the word, then Naomi could very well be in a lot of danger. Not that she wasn't already, now she was just in even more. And if Torres decided to take his revenge, then that put her in even more danger.

He let out a frustrated groaned at the thought. Every parent wanted to do whatever they could to protect their children, and here he was, still completely helpless. Just sit back and let her learn on her own. Let her crash and burn. That was what Emma told him to do, and it's what he needed to do. It was still painful to watch. He knew one thing. If Clemens was really out to harm Naomi in any way, he wasn't going to sit back. McKinsey learned what happened when someone messed with Pixy's kids, and if Clemens needed the same lesson then he was happily going to provide it. Or maybe he could let Naomi handle it. Give her something constructive to do with all that anger.

Whatever had to happen, was going to happen, he decided. He could help in whatever way he could, but ultimately he had to leave it in the proper hands. And it sucked.

---

Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.
1501hrs.

Sol Squadron all sat inside, the weather finally providing a change from the usual dry, hot days that took up most of their time. Winds from the north were finally providing them with autumn temperatures, and storms were coming along with it. Everyone was inside today, the winds being strong enough that it was decided that no one was going to be flying anywhere today. The pilots were left with nothing to do while the researchers were free to continue their work. It was an uneventful Sunday afternoon, and Mihaly found himself agitated by the lack of activity. Ionela insisted that the break would do him good, but he was frustrated by it. If he could still fight someone, at his age, in a narrow valley with winds and lightning to worry about, then flying through a bit of rain and wind was nothing.

Every argument that he presented was promptly shut down by everyone around him, even if his subordinates were more respectful about it than his granddaughter was. The crew room had enough activity to keep everyone occupied, and Mihaly had taken up a seat by the window to keep an eye on the skies. He was hoping that he'd be able to figure out when the storm might start to clear up, but so far everything was dark gray outside. He figured an hour or two at most, but the on and off storms were unpredictable. Holding back a sigh, Mihaly looked away from the window and stared down at the cup of tea that Ionela and Alma had made for him, not really feeling much like drinking it anymore.

Around him, everyone was chatting or finding ways to entertain themselves. Wit and Seymour were watching the news, talking about the Erusean submarine that had recently mutinied. According to everything they'd heard, Osea's military and government leaders were coming down hard on Erusea and there'd been plenty of bickering about said submarine. Osea apparently didn't believe that the sub truly had mutinied, and were pinning the blame on Erusea's leaders. Ionela had said that the Princess was getting involved with it, and was struggling to help convince them that the submarine and its crew were acting on their own. Politics. Mihaly shook his head. He never much cared for the politics that went on with the military. All he wanted was to take to the skies, where problems like that disappeared for the most part.

On the other side of the room, Roald was playing a game of chess with Alma, quite obviously letting the ten-year-old win. She seemed suspicious of Roald's ineptness as she claimed yet another one of his pieces, but he insisted that she was a better player than he was and was winning fair and square. Mihaly heard Alma declare that after this game they'd be having a rematch and he cracked a small smile. She was a stubborn one. Like her mother and grandmother had been, she was as smart as they came and could smell a setup a mile away. Mihaly probably should have warned Roald, but he figured that the kid would have figured it out by now. He and the rest of the squadron acted like older brothers or father figures to Ionela and Alma, and they honestly should have figured out the girls' intelligence by now.

Hermann was busy reading a book as he sat on the somewhat uncomfortable couch that had been placed in the room. Or rather on one of them. They'd set up two, back to back, right in the middle of the room. The setup of the room reminded Mihaly of a hospital waiting room, just without the smell of hand sanitizer and sterile wipes. No one else minded the setup or how stiff and uncomfortable the furniture was to sit on. Maybe it was because he was getting older, but he avoided sitting at most of the chairs in the room simply because of how painful it was. Hermann didn't seem to have an issue, reading the book he had without any issues focusing or anything.

Ionela was the odd one out, sitting across from Mihaly and scribbling down the answers on her schoolwork. She and Alma were homeschooled, having been pulled in and out of regular schools their whole lives, but Alma had less responsibilities than her older sister and Ionela was always slower to finish her work. Whenever he had the time, Mihaly would grade her papers. Sometimes he could trust his wingmen to help them, other times it was the researchers that took time out of their work to lend a hand. Typically it was Dr. Schroeder's assistants, Simon and Massa, that provided the help the girls needed. Mihaly was grateful to them, but never found the time or way to thank them, so he just left it alone.

Without even looking away from her schoolwork and barely breaking her concentration, Ionela suddenly broke the silence between the two of them. "What are you thinking about now, Grandfather? And why haven't you touched your tea?"

"What I'm thinking about should be of no concern to you, child," Mihaly pretended to scold her, but the tone he used was unusually light for him. He was trying to cheer her up, knowing she'd been stressed lately, but she sent a glare his way and went back to her test. Mihaly sighed and took a sip from his tea, expecting it to be warm and trying not to spit it out when he realized it was cold. He'd let it sit for too long, and now the flavor was ruined. He set it back down, fighting off a grimace, and slid it away from him. "And I let the tea sit for too long. I'll have to make some more later."

"If you spent lest time mulling and more time keeping up with your health, then you wouldn't have this issue to begin with." Ionela seemed mildly amused, but it was mostly said in a 'I told you so' way. She glanced at the cup and shook her head, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and finishing up the last of her work. She sat up with a sigh, placing the finished papers into a specific book and slamming them shut, shoving them towards the window and out of her way. Reaching for his mug, she stood up and began to walk away, "I'll make you some more, now. You should save your strength. You've been coming back more and more beat up and it's about time you started taking it easy on the ground."

"Hmm. I don't think those have anything to do with the other, Ionela," Mihaly said. She didn't answer him, instead giving him a look that told him he'd be in trouble if he tried arguing and that he wasn't going to win. She was as stubborn as he was sometimes. Mihaly watched her leave, crossing the room to where they'd set up a coffee maker. Ionela started to get to work on getting the water first, and Mihaly didn't try and call after her to tell her not to worry about it. There wasn't any use in arguing.

As he was about to return to his thoughts and watching the storm, the door was suddenly opened. It creaked as someone pushed it open and entered, all eyes instinctively looking towards the source of the disturbance. A man in an Erusean dress uniform was standing there, a dripping raincoat slung over one of his arms and carrying a military backpack in his hands. He was tall, about mid thirties, and he had dark brown hair that, although dry, was ruffled and looked a bit unprofessional compared to the rest of his appearance. All conversation was cut off as everyone stopped to observe the newcomer. Taken off guard by everyone staring at him, his eyes flicked around the room once as he nervously took in everyone's appearance in the same way that they did to him.

Mihaly at first figured that he was some new transfer that Erusea sent in, noting the rank on his shoulder. Some Major that was probably here because he was seeking a promotion. Mihaly planned to pay him no mind, but once the attention was off of the newcomer, he made his way over to Mihaly, stopping at the table he was sitting at. Mihaly didn't look up at him at first, but the man finally addressed him and he had no other option. "Excuse me, sir. You are General Shilage, correct?"

"Unfortunately so..." Mihaly muttered, glancing at his reflection in the window before turning around to face him. "Yes, I'm General Shilage. Is there something I can do for you?"

The major looked startled very briefly before he snapped his feet together and straightened up, offering a stiff salute as he introduced himself. "Major Phillip Allard, sir. Codename is Glitnir. It's an honor to finally meet you." Only upon hearing the codename did he finally recognize who this man was. They'd never met in person, but he'd heard good things about him. He was an Erusean agent, and a very good one from what Mihaly had heard. Glitnir was the one that was supposed to be getting him information on Three Strikes. So was that why he'd come here? Or was he here to tell him, in person, that his mission had failed? Mihaly doubted it was the latter.

Motioning for him to relax, Mihaly moved Ionela's things towards him to free up the seat in front of him. "I was expecting you to stay in touch," he said. Mihaly nodded towards the seat. "Please, sit down. I take it you have something for me?"

"Yes, sir, I do." Glitnir slid into the seat, setting his rain coat on the back of his chair before he did. After that, he pulled the backpack into his lap and unzipped it, pulling out a dainty looking laptop and some rather thick files that were marked with various different letters and numbers. None of their titles gave any indication as to what was in them, but Mihaly could probably guess what it was. As he unpacked what he could and what was relevant, Glitnir explained himself as he did. "I've heard many things about you, sir. Imagine my surprise when I heard that you had a job for me. Of course, Erusea already assigned me to infiltrate...well, let's just say the mission failed. Regardless, I heard a lot about this ace and I wanted to know more myself."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Mihaly asked him levelly, eyeing the file closest to him. It was tempting to just grab it, but he didn't want to admit that he was looking forward to it. That he was actually excited in finally putting a face to his opponent.

Glitnir gave a small, almost cocky smile as he finished and set the bag at his feet. "Yes, sir. And then some. Take a look." He slid the largest of the files towards Mihaly. "This here is everything that we dug up on Three Strikes, from birthplace to a - believe it or not - recent criminal record. While I was at Stonehenge, Three Strikes' squadron was there overnight and they celebrated. I had a brief, meaningless conversation. Personality is nothing like what you'd expect from a feared ace."

"Three Strikes should be respected, not feared. Why should you fear another man, especially one who's capabilities just barely match your own?" Mihaly asked with a blank expression, wanting to be left alone to read in peace. He looked up at Glitnir, who was watching him expectantly. "Does anyone else know of this information?"

A guilty look crossed Glitnir's face. "Yes. I figured that you should be the first to learn, since you've been searching for this information since your first encounter. Unfortunately, I had to speak with my higher ups first. By now, several people are aware of Three Strikes' real identity. If anything, they were briefed on it specifically, for tactical reasons. If you ask me, it created a bit of a stir among our soldiers. Read the file and you'll find out why." He looked down at his watch, missing the disappointment on Mihaly's face as he did. "Well, General, as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I have a few other people here that I need to speak with. My superiors asked me to check in with Dr. Schroeder. Not my area of expertise, but try telling them that. Happy hunting, sir. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."

Mihaly watched as Glitnir stood up, pulling his raincoat over his uniform and grabbing everything that Mihaly didn't need. Once he was all packed up again, he gave another salute, and set off for the door. Once he was gone, Mihaly relaxed in his seat and readied himself to open the file. Ionela studied the door, then looked at Mihaly. Without a word, she set his fresh cup of tea down and grabbed her school books, recognizing without him having to tell her that he wanted to be alone to read. It was obvious from the look on her face that she knew it was work related. She didn't protest, though, and instead walked over to see how the chess game between Ionela and Alma was going.

Once he was finally alone, he took a sip from his tea and opened the folder. He did a double take, not sure if he was reading the right file at first, but he read the name and the doubt ebbed away. The picture in the file was of a young woman, in her early twenties, wearing an Osean dress uniform. Something about the grin on her face was odd to see. She looked too bright-eyed and young to be the same ruthless pilot that he'd faced in Yinshi Valley. There wasn't any way that they were same, but the name could have confirmed his suspicions. Something about her reminded him of his grandchildren. Brown eyes and a wide smile. It looked as if she didn't have a care in the world. Was this Three Strikes? It was impossible. Furrowing his brow, he read on, past the ID photo:

OADF FILE - CLASSIFIED - THREE STRIKES

NAME: Foulke, Naomi H.
SEX: Female
DATE OF BIRTH: December 20th, 1997
HEIGHT: 170 cm
WEIGHT: 56 kg
HAIR: Brown
EYES: Brown
BLOOD TYPE: A
PLACE OF BIRTH: Oured, Osea

BIOGRAPHY-
Captain Naomi Foulke, newly appointed flight leader of the Long Range Strategic Strike Group's Strider Squadron, is the daughter of former Belkan mercenary Larry Foulke (better known as Solo Wing Pixy) and younger sister to Lieutenant Samantha Foulke [See Personnel File #-] and Lieutenant Colonel Roland Foulke [See File #- Title: MOBIUS]. Born and raised in the capital, Oured, Foulke graduated high school with high marks and enrolled in the Osean Air Defense Force Academy for her college and flight training. She graduated in September of 2018 and was transferred to the IUN to serve under Colonel Matthews' command at Fort Grays Island Air Base off the coast of Usea. While stationed there, she served in the 508th Tactical Fighter Squadron (Mage Squadron) as their number 2.

In her first sorties, nothing incredibly notable took place. Captain Turner and Captain Pierce reported that she showed quick thinking during the initial battles she took part in, and claimed that she showed good promise as a pilot in spite of having little to no combat experience at the time.

OPERATION LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER & THE DEATH OF VINCENT HARLING-

Foulke's career turning point came on June 6th, shortly after the start of the Second Usean Continental War (the Lighthouse War). She participated in three operations prior to this date, and was sent on her first solo operation by Colonel Matthews personal request. Her job was to reach the ISEV by flying into Selatapura low and weaving her way through Erusea's radar net surrounding the city. The goal was to secure air superiority and provide a safe landing zone for Sea Goblin to begin their rescue of former president Vincent Harling. While the operation initially went smoothly, Erusea deployed several MQ-99 UAVs to intercept, and Sea Goblin's crew was ultimately overpowered and killed.

Harling and Colonel Johnson (who had been providing protection to Mr. Harling) commandeered and boarded an Erusean V-22 while Foulke, alongside Mage and Golem Squadrons, provided air support and cover from the drones after Sea Goblin's demise. While attempting to retreat, the V-22 was hit by a MQ-99's missile which damaged the cockpit of the aircraft and ultimately caused the death of Colonel Johnson, leaving Harling as the only one aboard the aircraft and in control of it. Mage Squadron was to provide close air support for Harling while their AWACS attempted to direct him out of the combat air space. It is unknown if Harling knowingly turned his aircraft towards the ISEV, but he was unable to confirm our suspicions himself likely due to the damage the aircraft sustained.

UAVs surrounded the aircraft, and while the IFF would not allow any allied aircraft to get a lock on the V-22, when Foulke turned her aircraft allegedly to fire at the MQ-99s a missile struck Harling's V-22 shortly after she fired. Details surrounding the incident are still being analyzed, and we have no information on whether it was an unfortunate accident on Foulke's part or if the missile came from an enemy. Foulke was court martialed after the incident, at the insistence of many (including her base commander), and was transferred to the 444th Air Base towards the end of June.

SPARE SQUADRON & 'THREE STRIKES'-

After her court martial, Foulke was stripped of her rank and transferred to a penal unit in Zapland to serve with the 444th Squadron (known by the name Spare Squadron). Having been convicted of murder, she was given the penal unit's trademark 'sin lines' that former Colonel D. McKinsey used as a mark of shame among the squadron. These sin lines were simply white lines painted onto the tail of their aircraft, obscuring the tail code and any other markings (save for the occasional personal emblem) and making them easy to identify from the air or ground. The amount of lines that a pilot received depended upon the severity of his or her crime, and while most of Spare Squadron received only one line, Foulke was given three.

These three lines earned her a reputation among both Osean and Erusean forces. It can be noted (although this could be solely due to coincidence) that after Foulke's transfer to Spare Squadron, the squadron began to take fewer casualties during their operations. Many within our own military saw Spare as being expendable, being made up entirely of convicts, and as such sent them on operations that were deemed too risky to use regular forces. When Foulke joined the squadron, showing surprising skill, many within the squadron accepted her as their unofficial leader and those that followed her lead were said to have had the highest chance of survival. Whether this can be held to any real value is to be determined.

After providing support for the LRSSG's Cyclops and Strider Squadrons over Yinshi Valley, Foulke caught the attention of several prominent figures within the Osean military. Major Paul Wiseman, the LRSSG's company commander, provided a report noting the skill and courage Foulke displayed during the mission. The three squadrons faced an attack from three Erusean fighters, among them an ace known only by the name Mr. X. While most of Spare retreated, three aircraft remained behind, Foulke being among them. They sustained heavy losses, only four LRSSG pilots surviving the encounter. Foulke engaged the unknown ace in the valley until the storm forced the enemy to retreat. Maj. Wiseman vouched for Foulke and the two other pilots, stating that without their support they might have had more losses.

Due mostly to the actions of the squadron, the 444th was turned into a legitimate squadron and their base was to be moved further inland. Colonel McKinsey, having been under investigation after information given to the LRSSG by Spare Squadron, was to be transferred to the front lines and requested that Foulke and Spare 2 [William O'Connor - TAC Count], provide support and escort for his aircraft. They were intercepted by an Erusean prototype drone. The drone opened fire on the escorts and McKinsey's transport and Foulke was ordered to engage. After a fast paced dogfight, Foulke ultimately succeeded in destroying the drone, which was being pursued by Cyclops Squadron.

Cyclops guided them back to New Arrows Air Base where Spare 11 [Peter Hartmann - TAC Tabloid] and civilian prisoner, Avril Mead, had been transferred at the last minute. There, McKinsey was confronted and arrested after evidence was provided that he was working for Erusea to sell out Osea. He has since escaped custody, perhaps in due to the sloppy investigation that Foulke and her companions conducted, resulting in less than substantial security and underestimation from military police.

Foulke, O'Connor, Hartmann, Mead, and Spare's AWACS, Airman Joshua Marsh, were transferred to the Long Range Strategic Strike Group after McKinsey's arrest and their ranks were reinstated. Foulke received a promotion to the rank of captain and was placed as the flight leader to Strider Squadron, which had been left on standby and severely understaffed after the operation over Yinshi Valley. She adapted her aircraft's markings from regular sin lines to what appears to be a set of talons or 'Three Strikes' as they've come to be called. She's also taken on her father's legacy by including a red right wing into her livery, one that covers half of her aircraft's wing.

OADF FINAL VERDICT-
Naomi Foulke is to be monitored and her flight data to be observed closely. She displays a disregard and general distaste towards most authority, and has received a reprimand more than once within the past year. With possibly strong Belkan ties and an unpredictable personality and fighting style, she can be seen as a risk to our security, likely easily swayed and possibly one to turn traitor. Although the investigation is still underway to confirm exactly who or what was responsible for Harling's death, it's still questionable whether Foulke can truly be trusted. Even after having been cleared of the charge and pardoned, General Orson Perrault demands that we not rule out the possibility that Foulke did indeed kill Harling. This order shall remain until hard evidence is received that rules Foulke out entirely.

[END OADF FILE]

ERUSEAN ROYAL AIR FORCE NOTES-
Three Strikes, occasionally referred to as Solo Wing's Ghost, is determined to be a high threat target and is to be eliminated at all cost. Subject is reckless and unpredictable, a persistent enemy that refuses to relent until the chosen target is destroyed. Responsible for the deaths of many, Three Strikes has also gained the interest of several mercenary units, and there is a price on her head. Thus far, all attempts on her life have since failed. It can be noted that she acts as a protector to her wingmen, and tends to react more quickly and haphazardly when one of them is targeted. Use this to your advantage whenever possible.

[FILE RETRIEVED AND EDITED BY MAJ. P. ALLARD - APPROVED BY GEN. F. PARRISH]

Mihaly frowned, checking over the file again in disbelief to make sure he really had the right file, but this was it. A twenty-one-year old girl had been the one to make a mockery out of him and his squadron? The one that had been humiliating and killing their troops? The defender of Stonehenge and one of the lead planes to the infamous Snowbirds? Osea was foolish to give someone that young and unpredictable command of a squadron. But yet, he couldn't deny that she did have skill. She was the only one to engage him in Yinshi Valley, and fought in spite of the storm. He'd gone easy on her, but he still wanted to know what she could do when pushed to her full potential.

He looked back at the photo. So this truly was the face of his opponent, of the great Three Strikes that seemed to challenge him for his title as King of the Skies. She could keep up with him, but could she surpass him? Mihaly was confident that she wouldn't be able to win, lacking the years of experience that he did. He wanted to prepare his own squadron for their next meeting with Three Strikes, but it was doubtful that she could take on all of them. He wasn't so sure that he wanted the rest of Sol Squadron to take on this Three Strikes. This was his rival, and he wanted to be the one to defend his title, without any help from them.

Her wingmen sounded as though they were her weakness. Perhaps there was some reason for this, but either way, if they took out her friends then they could cripple her emotionally, then move in for the kill. Mihaly knew that wouldn't be hard for them. When they met on the battlefield next, Mihaly fully intended to settle the score that they had since Yinshi Valley. Three Strikes would be nothing more than another ace that he'd taken down. Another cocky, young pilot that got in over her head. It was a shame. From what he'd seen, she was a worthy pilot. At least so far. In a war, things could change in an instant, and there was no telling what might change for this...Naomi and her squadron.

He looked around the room, making sure that everyone was still there. It seemed as though no one had noticed or cared that he was reading, but he caught Wit giving him a curious look. Mihaly called out to them, "Wit! Seymour! Come here. Roald, Hermann! You as well. I have something that I want to show you."

The four of them instantly jumped up and set down what they were doing before rushing over to him. Ionela took Roald's place at the chess game, examining the board so she could jump in and keep Alma entertained. Hermann marked his place in his book, tossing it onto the couch with a thud and scrambling to his feet. His four wingmen all crowded around his table, Hermann and Roald trying to read Three Strikes' file. He kept it shielded from them until he was sure he had their attention. It was Hermann that finally asked what he wanted, using the nickname that Mihaly had told them time and time again to quit calling him. "What is it, King? Do we have a new sortie?"

Mihaly ignored the nickname, letting it slide that one time, and set the file down on the table. He slid it around so that they could all read it clearly. "My suspicions about the identity of my new opponent has been confirmed. This is the daughter of Larry Foulke, the infamous Solo Wing Pixy." He sat back, watching as they all read what he had, looking up at him with as much shock he'd initially felt. "The file isn't lying. That is Three Strikes. And she is the pilot that we're going to defeat."

---

Farbanti, Erusea.
1917hrs.

Rosa looked up as her father and General Parrish entered the office, slamming the door shut behind them. Leo, who had been napping prior to their disturbance, looked up at Rosa and then towards her father as he took a seat at his usual chair. His attention then shifted to Parrish, who glared at Rosa as he too sat down. Things had been tense between the two of them, but he still refused to pass up any opportunity to try and shift her beliefs back to their cause. She suspected that the only thing keeping him at a reasonable distance was Leo and even Henri, both of them having made it clear that they were suspicious of him. Her mother had been very curt with him as well, making it clear that his aggressive politics had caused a disturbance among more people than Rosa and the family's bodyguard.

Her father had allowed her to get involved with their work once again, including her after claiming that he still trusted her and thought that she was responsible enough. Parrish had been opposed to the idea, but he didn't argue with it for very long. They had another, more important problem to worry about. Rosa tilted her head to the side as she watched her father, motioning for Leo to lay back down and keep quiet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her dog obey the order, resting his head on her feet. But her focus was on her father. He'd been in a phone conference with some Erusean and Osean officials, and apparently it hadn't gone well. He let out a sigh and buried his face into the palms of his hands. No one said a word for several minutes, and he remained like that, visibly stressed.

Before anyone could try and ask what was wrong, he looked up, adjusting his position so that he could lean his head against his hand. It mirrored Rosa's own 'musing posture' and she knew he would talk when he was ready. She sat patiently, with her hands folded in her lap. Parrish didn't display the same courtesy, checking his watch and drumming his fingers as if he had somewhere to be and wanted to hurry any discussion along. Rosa kept any annoyance hidden, not letting it last very long and maintained her calm composure. At last, with another sigh, her father began to talk, explaining the situation to them. "Diplomatic discussion with Osea is getting shaky again. This recent Alicorn business has them all set on edge. They've got several soldiers in critical condition...soldiers that they claim were defenseless against the attack, and they're doubtful that the submarine wasn't under our command."

Parrish was suddenly more interested, his eyes lighting up at the mention of their recent addition to their battle doctrine. "Really? Does this mean that we may have some challenges in convincing them to sit down for peace talks? I know we've been negotiating with them for some time, but obviously no one is ready to accept defeat." Although he seemed to be feigning any concern for the status of peace talks, Rosa knew that he was probably more than happy that the conservative's ultimate goal of sitting down with Osean officials for such a talk was going to be that much farther out of their reach. He'd been trying to talk her father out of it ever since she'd mentioned peace in her speech, and he'd been succeeding for the most part. That gave Labarthe's conservatives a lot of work, not that Parrish cared too much.

"I don't know. If I can convince them that the Alicorn really did mutiny, then hopefully we shouldn't have an issue," Rosa's father replied.

"You mean they actually believe that we'd order our own men to do such a thing?" Rosa asked, eyes widening. Surely Osea didn't think that they were heartless enough to attack someone or something that was unable to defend itself? A fleet not properly equipped to attack the Alicorn, which she'd heard was a very powerful submarine, shouldn't have been in the situation in the first place. "They must think that we're cowards or something to attack in such a way. Hopefully we can convince them otherwise, or this war could drag on forever..."

"Pfft! Well, best of luck trying to convince Osea that they're wrong," Parrish said, barely looking at her when he spoke. He had other plans. "You're never going to convince them that the Alicorn and her crew are acting without any direction from us, I think that now would be a good time to regroup and plan an attack. They might try and pursue the submarine, in case it truly is under our command, and destroy it to leave us without the upper hand. While they're focused on that, we should plan an attack and strike them while they're distracted. We could slow down any chances of them reaching our capital and retaliate for the destruction of the IRBMs we launched."

Rosa looked at him, holding back an appalled gasp. "Surely you don't really think that's a good plan, General? With all due respect, sir, it would be foolish to attack Osea like that. A cheap shot, don't you think? Much like the one they're already convinced that we're responsible?" She stood up from her seat, Leo scrambling up as she did. Parrish opened his mouth to interject, but to her surprise, her father motioned for him to stay silent and Parrish reluctantly held his tongue, allowing Rosa to continue. "They're already upset and believe that the Alicorn is under our command. They didn't hear Captain Torres disobey orders like we did. If we hit them now, instead of help them in some way take on a possible common enemy, then they'll take that as a confirmation of their suspicions. That will set back any negotiations at least a few months. They'll no longer trust us and believe that we want peace, and the war may continue much longer than necessary."

"If we don't seize the opportunity now then Osea will find a way to crush us. Our country will face another devastating defeat and who knows how many innocent lives will be taken in the process!" Parrish raised his voice as he spoke, but Rosa was learning ever so slowly to stand her ground. It was time she stopped running from a fight. In spite of his attempt to talk down to her, she didn't react. She didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to her. Parrish went on with his rant, looking to the King as he said, "You're going to let an emotional girl make an important military decision for you? Her intentions may be good, but she has no idea how a war is fought. We have to make a statement to Osea, otherwise we'll be letting them walk all over us when the time for negotiations finally comes! Your daughter has been brainwashed by Labarthe and tricked into believing that peace comes without a price. That it's as simple as shaking hands. Are you forgetting Osea's initial attacks on our capital?"

"I haven't forgotten." Rosa kept her voice steady. She looked down at her feet, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "The school I used to attend as a girl was destroyed. People that I cared for, mentors and teachers that I knew, were killed in the attack. Who knows whether they were truly aiming for civilians when they attacked...it's more likely it was an accident, but still..." She looked back up at Parrish, hoping there was more determination in her voice. "If we never set that aside and move on from the past then we'll forever be blinded into continuing down a road of war and many more lives will be pointlessly taken. And for what? An attempt to restore our country to what it used to be? To make a big show of force like we used to do? Our country should strive to move forward, not backwards. Our goal should be in the future, not the past."

Parrish scoffed at her words. "Just as I've said. You're too naive for the responsibility we've given you, Princess. You have no idea what goes on in a war, and how severe these losses are. If we don't at least try and cripple them now then we'll regret it later. Your home will be attacked. They're going to come after our leaders. Me, and your parents. You. Do you want that? Do you want to know that you're responsible for any casualties taken? To bear the responsibility for the loss of those you care about? We are looking to the future. It's the conservatives that are stuck in the past." There was something of a haunted look on his face, but he quickly hid it. "Osea violated our sovereignty, mocked us with the construction of that hideous 'Lighthouse'. If we let this slide and don't tell them that we still have a powerful voice, then it won't be long before they take over the entire continent. It's about respecting our history and not making the same mistakes our ancestors and previous leaders did. Osea must be stopped, no matter the cost."

"That's nothing more than hatred, and in the end we're not accomplishing anything. We have to learn from history and work with what we're given, not make ourselves monsters just to tell the world that we aren't like we used to be. You're trying to erase and rewrite history, which means you are too wrapped up in the past. How does that make you any different then Labarthe and the conservatives?" Rosa asked him, finding it increasingly harder to keep her cool. "You're going to turn Erusea into a country of villains and cowards and leave the responsibility of picking up the pieces to my father and I. You've been blinded by your own hatred of Osea. I'm beginning to doubt that you truly want what's best for your country."

Before the argument could get any further out of hand, Rosa's father rose from his seat. "Alright, that's enough of that. François, I think that it would be best if you left for the night. I'll think this over and discuss my decision with you next weekend. For now, go home and take a break from work."

He looked as though he wanted to argue, but he chose to give a respectful nod and head for the door. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'll speak with you later. Good evening, sir." Parrish glanced at Rosa with a blank expression before he exited the room. "Enjoy your evening, Princess. And for once, consider what I've been telling you and stop thinking so much like Labarthe. You'll be amazed by what an open mind can accomplish."

"Good night, Parrish," Rosa's father said, almost exasperated, as he guided Parrish out of the room with a hand on his shoulder. Rosa watched as Parrish was unknowingly forced out of the room, the door promptly shut behind him. Her father paused, keeping his hand on the brass doorknob and his back turned to her. With a sigh, he turned around to face her from across the room, and she found herself afraid to make eye contact with him. It wasn't anger that was in his eyes, but some mix of disappointment and defeat. "You've put me in a difficult position, Rosa. Your goals for our country are admirable, but Parrish has a point as well. He may be very aggressive, but he fought during the first Continental War and he understands not only how they must be fought but how the politics must be handled as well."

"Are you saying that you agree with him? That what I'm proposing is impossible?" Rosa asked him, finding herself upset that her own father didn't even trust her abilities. Why would he let her speak if he wasn't going to take what she said into consideration? She kept a straight face. "Maybe to some extent Osea is wrong. It's not as if I'm asking that we surrender and just roll over and take their actions. They'll face consequences, just like others have done in the past. Some of the action taken was unjustified, and they'll answer to that. But it isn't as though we haven't taken unjustified, unnecessary action before. If we continue like this, we're going to exhaust Osea's forces as well as our own and we'll be faced with desperation. Both sides are going to want the war to end, and what measures will we take to achieve that when the time comes?"

Rosa's father straightened up and suddenly became stern with her. "Whatever it takes. Whatever is necessary to show that our country will stand up for ourselves and our beliefs. I'll do whatever I can to ensure an Erusean victory. Like Parrish, I don't intend to let my country fall to the mercy of another. Especially not Osea. I'm already rushing drone production as is. Our victory is secure, and we'll discuss peace once Osea has learned their lesson and we can be sure that we won't have any more problems from them."

She paused, taking in the words for a moment. It didn't sound like her father. Perhaps they'd both changed since the war, and this was the first time that she noticed how eager for a fight he was. It felt like a rock was stuck in her throat as she stood there, imagining how much worse the war could get. Shouldn't they want to prevent that? In any way? Perhaps it was too early to consider peace, but it would save more lives in the long run. Was she naive or was her father just convinced that this was the right way. With a shaky breath and her own creeping feeling of disappointment, Rosa at last responded. "I see...I guess you've already made up your mind, then."

"Rosa, it's not that I want the war to continue, it's just that Erusea has spent too long in the shadows. Too many people believe that it would be easy to defeat us, and that we're an easy, vulnerable target thanks to our defeat in the last war," her father explained with a sigh. "Our country will constantly be under threat. Do you want to live in fear? Do you want to be ruler of a country that's terrified and thinks that its leaders won't take appropriate action?"

"No, of course I don't!" Rosa answered. "But—"

"Then leave everything to us, and stop trying to debate when there's no reason for it." He tried for a reassuring smile, but Rosa couldn't return it. It wouldn't be genuine, and she was tired of keeping up appearances for the sake of everyone else. When she didn't react to it, he stepped away from the door. "I'm sorry. But there's a time and a place. You have to earn your respect and right to make decisions like this. That's just the way things are."

Maybe things should change. Rosa wanted to reply with that, but she knew it would be childish to continue the fight for any longer. Avoiding so much as a glance her father's way, she began a brisk walk to the door, straightening her posture to appear more confident than she actually felt. Her tone was still soft as she spoke. "I'm going to bed...come along, Leo." Her dog leapt up from his stiff sitting position and bounded after her with an excited bark at the mention of his name. He fell into step beside her, trotting along as she left the room. The door shut behind her, and she heard her father's footsteps as he took a seat once more. This hadn't been a good night, and the decision probably was difficult for him, but it didn't excuse anything.

She stood there for a moment, back against the door with her fist clenched. Her eyes started to water and she felt like collapsing to the floor and crying right there, feeling as though her own father had somehow betrayed her. It was all so confusing, and she felt like she was the object in a harsh game of tug of war. She was so overwhelmed by her own emotions and thoughts that she didn't notice that Henri was standing a couple of feet away, remaining in the same position he'd been in since the 'meeting' started. The concern in his voice was obvious. "Your Highness? Are you alright?"

Startled, Rosa looked over at him, trying to find the words to answer him. After struggling for a few minutes, she finally got her thoughts together and was able to answer him. It was a lie, and he probably knew that, but it was an answer nonetheless. "Yes, Henri, I'm fine..." Forcing herself to move from the spot, she headed towards the stairs. Over her shoulder, she called to Henri, "Goodnight." But Rosa didn't wait for an answer from him, and left him in a rather confused silence. She didn't look back to see the look on his face, but she had a feeling that he watched her as she left. If she confided in him, then he'd try to fix the problem or be unable to help, so it was best not to let him know. Besides, he had his job to worry about.

When she finally reached her bedroom, she took a seat on her bed, kicking off her shoes and reaching for the TV remote. Pressing the on button, it was no surprise when ENN appeared on the screen. She was going to change the channel, fed up with hearing about nothing but the war, but footage of a fighter jet fighting over Stonehenge caught her attention and something told her to stay on it. Turning the sound on after having it set to mute, she adjusted the volume and kept her eyes on the screen. The video showed a fighter jet taking on the Arsenal Bird and its drones over Stonehenge before it cut to footage captured during a battle over Artiglio. It was all the same plane, with half a red wing and three scratches on its tail. Three Strikes.

There wasn't any commentary, just footage of this plane with a headline moving across the screen. 'Osean forces rally behind 'Three Strikes', believing this pilot to be a rising symbol of hope. Erusean soldiers believe Three Strikes to be an ill omen; a harbinger of destruction and chaos. Allied soldiers fight to keep up morale and their resolve to fight.' It continued to scroll by before the text changed to mention the Alicorn submarine's mutiny. But Rosa continued watching footage of this Three Strikes until it cut to an interview with an Erusean pilot from a nearby air base, apparently wanting to hear firsthand what it was like to fight against Osea and what their plans for moving forward was.

Leo had already curled up beside her and gone back to sleep. She turned around, giving a tired smile and reaching out to pet him. Although he probably didn't understand her, she began to think aloud, almost wishing her dog could offer some advice. "A symbol of hope is just what we need...perhaps this Three Strikes is what everyone has been waiting for. Someone to turn the war in their favor and finally bring it to an end." Rosa sighed, glancing towards the TV to see if they mentioned the pilot again. "I want to be that for Erusea, but it feels as though everyone is conspiring against me. I wonder if this Three Strikes is as fed up with the war as I am...there has to be a way to end it. I want Erusea to have a strong victory, but not because we fight like cowards and strike when their back is turned. Why isn't there an easy way to do any of this?"

Rosa looked at Leo for an answer, but he didn't make any indication that he heard her. She chuckled, giving him a firm pat on the side. "We'll get there eventually...won't we, buddy?"

---

Erusean Air Base, Near Expo City.
September 9th, 2019.
1200hrs.

Scream sat on top of one of the wings of her plane in spite of her brother's warnings not to. It was her plane, so in her mind she could do whatever she wanted. It wasn't as if her brother was in charge, either. She was the oldest, albeit only by a few minutes at most, and she wasn't about to be bossed around on the ground as well as in the air. It bothered her sometimes that Rage was so by the book and all about rules even though none of the rules that kept others trapped should have applied to them. He was one big walking contradiction, and most of the time he seemed to live by 'do as I say, not as I do' whenever it came to Scream. It got on her nerves a lot of times, not that she would tell him about it.

Beside her were copies of the files on the former pilots of the Spare Squadron, now members of the great LRSSG. Scream couldn't stand Osea and how pompous they could be sometimes, especially when it came to their air force. The LRSSG wasn't as great as everyone said, and it seemed as though their flight leaders carried them. The others were along for the ride. Nevertheless, McKinsey had been kind enough to provide them with all the information they could possibly need to take down Three Strikes and her wingmen. It was almost ironic, in Scream's eyes. Here they were, ex-convicts themselves, the complete opposite of another group of ex-cons.

It wasn't as if she and Rage didn't try to live up to the expectations everyone set for them. They just fell short, seemingly through no fault but their own. Three Strikes and two of her wingmen, Count and Tabloid, had barely gotten out of Zapland alive and they were taken in by Osea and given a proper chance to redeem themselves. They were heroes. Scream and Rage, on the other hand, had barely gotten out of Tyler Island alive and were Osea's rejects. They were now the bad guys. Rage had commented on it when they'd first been given the job, after the brigadier general first met with them. He said that killing Three Strikes wouldn't make them popular with Osea and the country's military, to which Rage had said that if Three Strikes was the 'hero' and they were the 'villains' then that was fine with him.

Perhaps the funniest part of it all was that Three Strikes shared Belkan heritage just like them. Their father had been a Belkan soldier. A mercenary, just like they were. And just like Three Strikes' father was. True, she herself wasn't Belkan. Truth be told, neither were Scream and her brother. Elke and Otto van Dalsen were Osean by birth and technically considered Belkan by blood. Scream and Rage on the other hand belonged to no country. They weren't puppets, unlike Three Strikes. Perhaps that was where their biggest differences were. Whereas Scream and Rage had no need to worry about any loyalty but to each other, Three Strikes was Osea's dog. She had to answer to them, and her loyalty was to them. And boy would it be fun to screw Osea and Three Strikes over.

"Scream! Hey, Scream, you in here?" The sound of her brother's voice brought her attention to the hangar entrance. Rage walked in, taking a look around for her before he noticed her perched on her plane's wing. With a frown, he walked over with a scowl on his face and an exasperated look in his eyes. Scream could already tell what he was upset about and gave an innocent smile, waving to him as she swung her legs back and forth in the air, bouncing them off the edge of the wing. He could have very easily reached up and grabbed her ankle to pull her down, but he was far past the age where he thought it was funny to pull and shove her off of high places. "So, I tell you not to do something, and you do it just to aggravate me."

"No, I did it because I can." She smirked at him, leaning back and using her arm to support her back. Shrugging, she flicked through one of the files, bored after studying them over and over again per Rage's insistence that they 'learn their enemy'. The least he could do is let her have some fun. "Besides, it's not like it hurts anything. I know these things were built sturdier than that, especially after we got our hands on 'em. Literally no need to worry so much."

"What have I told you about getting too confident?" Rage asked her, and it sounded like he was scolding a child with the way he was talking. He always considered her the immature one, just because she didn't have a stick up her ass all the time and knew how to have fun. Why he insisted they act like regular soldiers was a mystery to Scream. They lost their chance to be regular soldiers after Osea thought it would be amusing to lock them up and send them on suicide missions. Rage should have learned to let loose by now. She didn't answer his question, so he took it as an invitation to lecture her again. "The enemy can and will use that to their advantage. Over confidence is a way to earn yourself a one way ticket to hell."

"Well, in that case it sounds like Three Strikes is going down. McKinsey says that she and her wingmen are way too cocky...especially this guy." Scream reached over and placed the file on O'Connor in her lap. His TAC name was Count, and of the targets he seemed like he'd be the easiest to take out. She opened it up, going through the notes that McKinsey had made. "Says here that he thinks he's some kinda bigshot. But the best part is, every time things get tough, he tucks his tail and runs in the other direction. A real wuss. I'd love to see how he holds up against us...it's a shame. Y'know, he's kinda cute. Sounds like he'd be my kinda guy, too. Three Strikes ain't so bad, either."

Rage rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you can think that if you want. Whether you find them attractive or not doesn't change the fact that we're going to kill them. Wouldn't mind getting my hands on Three Strikes myself, but we've got a job to do. Besides, taking down those Osean dogs is a lot more rewarding." He looked over at his own plane with a sigh. "This is really going to be something. If we take down an ace like this then there's no telling how rich we could be. People will finally know our names and we'll be able to get better, more high profile jobs. Heh. Can you imagine it? No one's going to think we're a bunch of jokes anymore. We might be able to get better planes, too."

"If you say so. I just want an even playing field. When we face them again, I've got dibs on her wingman. That guy was annoying as hell..." Scream said. She may have found him good looking to some extent, but it didn't change the fact that he'd kept them from succeeding in killing Three Strikes the first time. Next time they saw him, she fully intended to follow through on her threat. This 'Trigger' was going to watch her wingman die, and Scream would happily be the one to kill him. Then they'd have no trouble going for the real prize. Scream could picture it now. It would be a work of art compared to other mercenary work. Quick and very, very painful. "Ha! I'm gonna have fun with this one..."

Their conversation was cut short when McKinsey entered, having overheard the last part. It was clear that something had pissed him off and Scream could already tell that she wasn't going to like whatever it was that he had to say. "I'm afraid that your 'fun' or whatever is going to have to wait a little while longer," he said as he approached, stopping beside Rage.

The siblings exchanged a look with one another before turning back to McKinsey. "Is there any reason why? I thought we were heading out on Three Strikes' next sortie to intercept them. Isn't that what you wanted? And what you paid us for?" Rage asked, prickling with annoyance. The tone he used was familiar to Scream, having heard it before with previous, less important employers. He always used it when someone wanted to either terminate their contract last minute or if someone tried to short them when it came to their payment. He was a decent businessman given the situation, but he didn't like when things didn't work out the way they were supposed to.

McKinsey smirked, crossing his arms. He seemed unbothered by Rage's attempt at intimidating him. "I ran a prison and dealt with creeps like you every day. You think that pathetic speech is going to faze me? Don't forget that you came from the same prison background that they did. You may be free now, but I wouldn't test my patience. I could kill you without ever getting my hands dirty." Rage's fist clenched, but he took a step back and glanced at Scream. She scowled, wanting nothing more than to kick McKinsey square in the jaw at that moment, but she held back. If she killed him then they wouldn't get much out of it. McKinsey chuckled, satisfied by their apparent 'submission' to him. "Now that's what I like to see. Smart kids that know what's good for them. I bet I don't have to worry about you anymore, huh?"

"Zip it, old man," Scream said with a scoff, earning a stone cold glare from the colonel. She ignored it, not at all caring how angry she made him. "You escaped from custody of the MPs. You're no better than the rest of us and you know it." Pushing herself closer to the edge of the wing, she finally pushed herself off, landing on the ground with a loud click as her boots made contact with the concrete. Barely managing to stick the landing, and nearly slipping, she pulled herself up to stand beside her brother. Ignoring the aching that ran up from her ankle, she brushed her hair out of her eyes and went on as if nothing had happened. "Now, why don't you tell us why we aren't flying?"

"You're on standby so that we can see how the next operation turns out. Clemens' orders." McKinsey wasn't too upset by the news, obviously, but Rage and Scream both shared the same thought. That order was bullshit. If they weren't sure, then they wouldn't have hired them in the first place. Rage opened his mouth to protest, but McKinsey put on a wicked grin and continued before Rage could say anything. "That's the official order, anyways. Unofficially and as your secondary employer or whatever you want to call it, I say that when the time is right during the next mission, you go out there and you do whatever you can to make sure that Three Strikes and whoever else from the LRSSG is there never fly again. Put an untimely end to their careers. This will also give us a new ally. Once Clemens is outed as a traitor, he'll have no choice but to go on the run and come down to visit the rest of us 'lowlifes'. What do you think?"

They considered the order. The second one, rather, since that was of more importance to them. And they actually would benefit from it. Rage looked to Scream, silently asking her what her opinion on it was. She was all for it. Disobeying orders? Stripping Osea of another, somewhat powerful authority figure? Taking out four aircraft at least, Three Strikes and that wuss probably among them? It sounded like a dream come true. The only response that she gave Rage and the only response that he needed was a mile wide grin and a soft chuckle. Rage looked back at McKinsey, pretending to think it over some more. He looked him up and down and then smiled, holding out his hand. "Alright then, McKinsey. You've got yourself a deal. On one condition: you pay us extra. At least double the last offer."

McKinsey sighed, then reluctantly shook Rage's hand. "Fine, you've got yourself a deal, kid. You'll have your money tonight. So long as you don't disappoint me. Remember, it's only thanks to me that you even got this far."

"Right..." Rage frowned, shoving his hands into his pockets once their handshake was over. "There's no need to worry. We aren't going to fail this time."

"You better not." McKinsey turned around and began to leave, stopping only briefly to add to them, "I'll be sure to let you know if anything changes. In the meantime, I'd get ready. You're going to be going out tomorrow."

After that, he continued on his way. Scream waited impatiently for him to leave before she said anything, noticing some raw determination in her brother's eyes. He had his back to her, having shifted his position so that he could clearly view his Berkut from where he was. "What's with the look, Rage?" she asked him, almost with an edge to her voice. She didn't want him to change up their plan without asking her first, and if he did ever show determination when they were on the ground then it usually meant that he was working out a plan. Scream didn't want to be left in the dark. "What are you thinking about?"

He glanced over his shoulder and then shrugged, focusing on his plane once more. "Nothing. I'm just trying to figure out what our next move after this is going to be. Once Three Strikes is dead, we're going to have people lining up to hire us. Take out enough of Osea and Erusea's aces in a little back and forth game and this stupid war would be over real fast." Rage paused, running a hand through his hair. He chuckled, amused by something that Scream couldn't understand. Perhaps it was just his own thoughts. He kept a smile on his face, an almost content look in his eyes. "We're going to show McKinsey that he doesn't own us, too. After tomorrow, there won't be any question about who's in charge."

Scream took a moment, then finally grinned again. "We really are gonna have fun with this one, aren't we?"

"As if we'd have it any other way."

---

Scofields Plateau, Usea.
2001hrs.

"You don't have to go. There's plenty you could do elsewhere, without putting yourself in danger."

"The same goes for you, and yet you're still fighting. I'm just doing what you did and going where I'm needed."

Genette recalled the conversation he'd had with Blaze, Grimm, and Clown shortly before he'd left Fort Grays the day before. They'd tried one last time to convince him to stay, but hadn't had any luck in convincing him otherwise. Besides, the unit he was going to be with for a while had already agreed to take him along with them and made adjustments accordingly. Grimm's older brother was in charge, and was friendly enough and didn't waste much time with explaining things that Genette already knew. They were all waiting to move in on Anchorhead the next day by helicopter. Their goal was to arrive around the time that the LRSSG was going to be there, hoping to provide some help with any ground targets.

This area had been taken by Osea in one of the initial operations during the war, and they commandeered what was left of the Erusean air base that was there after clearing up the wreckage from downed aircraft that the IUN had shot down. It wasn't difficult work, and the base was mostly in good condition aside from a few destroyed buildings. As Genette stood outside of HQ, he looked up at the sky where stars were starting to become visible. The only sign of daylight was on the horizon, where a thin, pale orange line still remained. The rest of the sky faded into dark blue and without any urban glow, the sky had a blanket of stars on display for all to see.

He wondered how the mission that Nagase was on was going, and it was the first time in a while that he spared a thought for her. Everything had been so busy lately he hadn't really considered what things were like up there. Being a deep space mission, there was limited contact with the spaceship, and very little information had been released about the reason behind the mission. Genette only knew because Nagase had told him and the others, and she also had swore him to secrecy, reminding him that if it got out to the public and out of their circle of friends then it could cause widespread panic. The space elevator was one of the only ways that Genette knew of for them to return by safely, and he could understand why Blaze was so determined to keep it from being destroyed.

But Genette couldn't worry about that. He had a war to cover, and he had to search for the inspiration and energy to document everything. Not to mention, he'd be following the Osean Army into a battle tomorrow. Maybe not necessarily participating, and he'd be at a safe distance, but he was going to be close by at the very least. He couldn't afford the distraction. Any distractions. Everyone that he knew was more than capable of taking care of themselves, and there wasn't any need to waste time worrying when there wasn't a good reason for it. The day that somebody could shoot down the Razgriz in a real fight was the day that he'd worry, but until then, all of them were more than capable of surviving anything a war threw at them.

"You know, you really should get some rest. We've got an early start tomorrow." Genette turned around to see Grimm's brother, Jacob, standing a few feet away. It was easy to tell his relation to his younger brother. He was taller and more broadly built, and his eyes were blue rather than green, but they both had the same reddish-brown hair and barely noticeable freckles. Another thing he had in common with his younger brother was that he was surprisingly soft spoken given the career and role with his unit that he had. Both brothers were members of serious, fierce units, Jacob being in command of his, and yet they were the two of the most easygoing men that Genette had ever met. Jacob took a few steps forward, looking up at the sky as well. "I know it's not too late, but everyone needs to be at the top of their game. I can't afford to lose anyone tomorrow, and I plan to take as few risks as possible."

"You won't have to worry about me," Genette answered with a chuckle. "I've been in stickier situations. Hell, I almost faked my own death. If it hadn't been for Harling then I'd probably be in some house in the middle of nowhere right now, not getting in the middle of the action..."

"Well, take look at Hans and Kathryn," Jacob said with a smile. "They're supposed to be dead and they live in a house in the middle of nowhere. Yet sure enough, here they are, getting themselves involved in something like this." He sighed and shrugged, looking down at his feet and kicking at the ground. "I told them they should keep a low profile, but that was out of the question once they heard about Harling. Leave it to them to do the exact opposite of what you tell them. But, what do I know? We're probably going to be heading into hell before long...I want to be sure that you're ready for this, by the way. Be sure that you know there's little chance that you're going to be able to turn back. You'd have been safer staying at Fort Grays. I don't need a civilian's blood on my hands."

Genette glanced at him, trying not to let his nervousness show. "Yeah, I'll be ready. Like I said, there's no need to worry. I've been through worse. The first dogfight of the last war, an air raid after that, nearly getting shot in the head, and managing to get off the Kestrel without any incident, too."

"If you're sure. I just want to make sure that I won't have to babysit you too much. I'm taking a chance by letting you come along, so whatever you do, just stay alive, alright?" Jacob said. As he turned away to leave, he added, "I'm not sure how I'd tell my brother that I let one of his best friends die."

While the concern was understandable, Genette just couldn't find himself a little bothered by it. Sure, Jacob was just looking out for him, and it was true, he probably didn't want to tell his brother and sister-in-law that one of their closest friends had been killed, but he didn't appreciate being treated like some helpless child. He watched Jacob leave, then turned back to look at the sky once he was gone. Closing his eyes, he shivered and took in the scent of a chilly breeze as it hit him right in the face. It passed and he opened his eyes again, searching for the brightest star. He stared at it for a moment, returning to his previous thoughts. "I wish you could hear me, Nagase. I wish there was some way I could help protect the elevator so you could come home...but we're just going to have to trust in Three Strikes. And Blaze, too..." he spoke softly, then sighed, finding it kind of silly to be talking to no one. And to be talking like Nagase was dead, too. She was still alive. "We could use some luck, tomorrow. I'm going to have to stay safe...I hope you're safe too, wherever you are right now."

Deciding it was time to go inside and get some rest like Jacob had advised, Genette took in the sights for a moment longer before adjusting his vest and turning away, heading towards his assigned room. Hope was something that they all needed right now, and he had to keep a brave face. The world needed the truth on the war, after all, and he had vowed to deliver it. He wasn't going to die or get hurt. Not if he could help it. He may not have been some great hero, but he knew people still cared about him. He wasn't about to let them down. Here goes nothing...

---

Oured, Osea.
September 10th, 2019.
0831hrs.

David North leaned back in his seat, looking between the many windows he had open on his computer. All of them were related to the Alicorn and the recent operations that had gone on. He glanced over to the other side of his desk where his chess board was set up, in the middle of a game. Playing a game of chess against yourself wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do, but he needed some way to pass the time, and he occasionally used the board as an example of whatever he was working on. In this sense, it was used as a reference for the LRSSG against the Alicorn. More specifically, Three Strikes against Matias Torres. He sighed, spinning his chair around to face the board, looking over what the next move could be.

Reaching forward, he picked up the piece he thought best represented Three Strikes, and examined it in his hands. He was in a tough spot with this entire thing, wanting to believe that Trigger was as good and capable as he'd heard, while also having to think of things realistically. He set the piece back down where it was and spun back towards his computer, trying to wrack his brain for any possibility that the LRSSG could win, also trying to figure out what Torres was planning with the sub. The music he had playing in the background was supposed to help with focus, but it wasn't doing its job. He was almost disappointed, considering how much he enjoyed the music. But it wasn't helping with his work

Opening another window, he looked over the list of names of the crewmen that had left the Alicorn after their return from the bottom of the ocean. He couldn't help but feel as if something was wrong with Brigadier General Clemens and this 'source' that he had. They were being set up, without a doubt, either knowingly or entirely by accident. The way that Clemens was behaving, constantly trying to shut him down, and the way he'd been behaving towards the captain and her wingmen was sending up some red flags. In David's opinion, that was definite reason for suspicion. He leaned back in his chair again, resting his head against his arms as he went over the list.

His computer chimed suddenly, bringing his attention towards his chat with his personal AI, Alex, waiting for whatever she had to say. It was likely that she was finally done with the task he'd given her. Sure enough, the voice she'd been programmed with finally sounded. "David. I've built a model of Captain Torres and Three Strikes, based on your hypothesis and mission parameters from the past. I ran a precision combat simulation..." An attachment appeared and David clicked it, opening a new window that displayed a chess board model that Alex had been given to make. It played as soon as it opened, showing a fast paced chess game, the pieces moving independently. It abruptly stopped, showing the Three Strikes model and the Alicorn model coming to a halt directly in front of one another. Alex spoke again in her usual monotone. "But, it failed."

David let out a frustrated groan, feeling much less hopeful than he had before. "Bummer. Why didn't it work?"

"Reasons in 'sensuous' order are..." Alex began, bringing up his previous request to try and be more sensual in her analysis, which was difficult for a computer, but nonetheless her programming didn't allow her to disobey, only argue. "1. Your hypothesis is trash."

He blinked in surprise, staring at the chat with an eyebrow raised. "Uh..."

Alex went on. "2. The parameters you gave me are trash."

"Um. Did I do something to tick you off?" he asked her, mildly offended by her comments. Alex had always been temperamental, but usually she wasn't this harsh when it came to shooting down his ideas. Unless his request had gotten on whatever substitute that she had for nerves.

After a pause, Alex finally added her third and final reason, not answering his question. "Three: Captain Torres is a singularity."

"So the values diverge..." David furrowed his brow, accepting that possibility sooner than he would the others. A singularities movements were supposed to be unpredictable, which certainly fit Torres, and they determined the behavior and ultimate fate of those around them. While it fit Captain Torres, it also happened to fit Captain Foulke. Based on her flight data and personality info, she was unpredictable, which gave her an edge in a fight. Her style was aggressive, much like Torres' style and behavior. "But, what about this one. 4. Three Strikes is a singularity."

If Alex could frown or roll her eyes, she probably would have. "That's outside the confidence interval. The possibility that it's 1, 2, or 3, is 99%."

That didn't sound right to him. He felt disappointment returning. "What?"

"Significance is high."

"Hmm." David couldn't believe that. It was either one or the other, but surely the chances of Trigger being the singularity were higher? Could they both be? He opened Alex's Analytics Cloud, a folder that stored all of the data she needed and had access to in order to properly analyze something. He then opened a folder he'd set aside specifically to store data on these recent operations. He went to the file that Trigger's superiors had sent to him to use, containing all of Trigger's data up to their last operation over Sierraplata. He dragged the file (titled Personal_DATA_Trigger) and dropped it into Alex's folder. It began to upload it all, surprisingly quickly for a file of that size. "Try this. This is all of Three Strikes' data stretching back to before she was assigned to the LRSSG."

He watched and waited for it to upload, checking to make sure that she had everything he needed, then checked the time. "Speaking of the LRSSG, they'll be expecting me for their briefing any minute now. Take a look at this and come up with another simulation if you can. Let me know the results when you're done," David ordered quickly. Alex didn't respond to him with words, instead making another chime sound to tell him that she understood. David smiled to himself. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a call to make. Have fun, Alex!"

---

Author's Note: If I see the words 'three' and 'strikes' together in a sentence ever again, I'm going to cry...wait.

Has it really been over a month since I last updated this? Sorry about that, guys. I would have done it sooner, but the last month or so has been crazy for me. Real life stuff got in the way, then every time I sat down to write it was like a wall went up and I wound up with writer's block that lasted for several days. But I'm back and have inspiration again, so hopefully the next few updates shouldn't take as long to get here. Again, I really apologize for taking so long. I hope the double update (and painfully long chapter...sorry) makes up for it!

The next chapter should cover Anchorhead Raid, so we're going to finally get some more action after this. For now, enjoy the filler/set-up chapters!