Day 5 Time 2325
The Daggers had all been woken up around 2315. They were told to get dressed quickly, and report to the communications room, no questions asked.
Hangman wearily pulled on his flight suit, downing a cup of room temperature water. He was exhausted. He'd been awake for five days, sleeping approximately 15 hours, he was emotionally and physically drained. So, yes, he had an amazing reason to be tired.
Out in the hallway, if you could call it that (they were pretty skinny, enough that some of the guys had to turn slightly sideways to walk) Hangman was joined by the other Daggers as they made their way to the communications room.
When they finally made it there, Hangman was noticeably more awake and alert. There they found Cyclone and Warlock waiting for them. Hangman took a quick glance around the room, noticing that Phoenix and Bob weren't there too. Before he could ask any questions, however, Cyclone spoke up.
"Let's skip pleasantries," he said, "Lieutenant Floyd and Lieutenant Trace just headed out on one last mission to find Maverick and Lieutenant Bradshaw…" he took in a deep breath, "Unfortunately, some…complications have risen."
Hangman's eyebrows creased into a soft frown and faint fear and anxiousness blossomed in his chest. They hadn't been shot down or anything? Right?
Cyclone didn't allow his vividly imaginative mind to get ahead of him. "Intel tells us that we have a few bandits heading this way, about 3 hours out. They're bringing in some reinforcements. It's about to be very dangerous and crowded." He continued, "If we do not find any sign of our missing pilots tonight, we move out when Floyd and Trace get back. On the other hand, if we do find anything, we will get them back. In the meantime, we need to prepare to fight, should we get caught by the bandits. Understood?"
There was a sharp nodding of heads around the room.
"Hangman, Payback, Fanboy; you three will be staying with us in this room." Cyclone turned to face the other Daggers. "The rest of you, prepare for the worst."
"Yes, sir's" rose up like a choir, and the others turn to head out. Hangman sat down in a nearby semi-comfortable chair, thrumming his fingers anxiously on the table. He was worried. Gosh darn it, why wasn't he the one flying?
They heard Phoenix's voice break over on the comms.
"Heading southeast." Hangman started at hearing the different, more commanding tone in Phoenix's voice. He had missed it so much. Lately, she's been away from everyone, barely talking, barely eating. Just like everyone else. But it made sense, she was flying. Flying would fix anyone up just right.
Hangman accepted the cup of coffee Payback passed him, murmuring a soft 'thank you.' He was thirty, and still a tad bit tired. Hangman drank the hot liquid carefully. He was thankful it was warm, thinking, a little grimly, that he needed a little warmth in his lift about now.
And there they sat, listening intently to anything and everything going on in the F-18.
"Phoenix," They heard Bob's voice speaking, "10 'o clock, low…Let's check out that forest."
Hangman's curiosity quipped and his mind burned with eager waiting. Had they found something?
"Roger." He heard Phoenix's short answer. He could have sworn he heard the jet turning.
They sat there for a few more anxious and excited minutes, waiting impatiently. Hangman heard a choking sort of sound and sat up quickly, his heartrate bumping up a notch. What happened? What was happening?
"Bob?" Phoenix asked anxiously. He must've not heard her, because he didn't respond.
Then they heard Bob choke up, his voice relieved, happy, anxious, "Dagger two to Dagger one, I copy. I hear you loud and clear."
Hangman's heartrate just about went to heaven right there. They were alive! Oh, praise the Lord! Maverick was alive! Rooster was alive!
Hangman was dimly aware that his jaw had lowered a little, his eyes widened and he swept a hand through his rumbled hair. He couldn't believe it! They were alive! Alive, alive!
Hangman glanced around the room, noting that everyone else was just as shocked and happy as he was.
A voice broke though the silence.
"Phoenix to Head, we got communication." Phoenix sounded so relieved, so happy. "I repeat, we have communication. Bob's gonna try putting you on the line. He strictly requests that no one talks except for him."
Cyclone's gaze dropped down Hondo, who was wiping a tear from his eyes. He nodded his head curtly, a soft smile on his lips.
"Understood." One of the communication officers answered Phoenix's request. And they sat…waiting and listening.
"Dagger two to Dagger one," Bob was saying, "I need to ask a few questions , alight?"
And they heard Maverick answer. His voice sounded so hoarse, so weak, but it was there all the same. "Roger…" he whispered.
"What are the injuries? I'd like to know so that the Medical team can be better prepared, alight?" Bob's voice was calming, peaceful, yet behind that was a anxious person waiting for the response.
"That I know about?" Maverick slurred slightly.
"Um…Yes, sir. What injuries are you aware of?" Bob asked, slight confusing edging his voice. He wasn't the only one.
Cyclone looked around, "Anyone got a pen and paper?" he whispered harshly.
A female hesitantly raised her hand. "Write this down, please." The female nodded.
"Well, ummm….I know that I have a slight concussion. Had to have my hip relocated and got shot in the thigh. Then I broke my wrist, my head hurts like heck, and I think I have a fever."
There was another pause as Hangman winced in sympathy and pity.
"Rooster, well now, he's got a badly broken arm," Maverick continued, "some broken ribs, probably also a little concussed after a run in with some…people. He's really injured, breathings irregular and he keeps slipping in an' out of consciousness." He trailed off for a second, "he's bleeding a lot. Heck, I'm bleeding a lot. And it's freezing out here."
Hangman heard Bob growl softly in the back of his throat. He'd never imagined Bob getting angry. He himself was clenching his jaw so he couldn't lash out at anyone.
"Maverick—"
"How long 'ave we been gone?"" Maverick interrupted.
"Five days, sir." Bob replied.
They heard some muttering.
"Mav, me an' Phoenix need to know where you're at, alight? Could you turn on your GPS tracker?"
"Oh…right, I had that." Yeahh…Mav was defiantly feverish. He'd never forget something as important as that. They heard a soft click, "There, I turned it on."
"Bob to Head, I'm seinging you the coordinates now."
A small blinking dot showed up on the screen. With one sight hand signal from Cyclone, someone called Medical.
"Bob…" Maverick spoke. He sounded so heartbroken, so sad, so tired. Quite the opposite of his usual personality.
"Yes, sir?" Bob asked softly.
"Please…don't leave me."
"I won't, sir."
Hangman was out the door before he could hear anything else. He was gonna go get on the SAR flight and bring back his teammates, no matter what. Hangman rushed up the skinny ladders, finding the SAR team starting to climb into the chopper. He waved his arms, running up a hopping in.
"Serein! Good ta have ya grace your presence with us lowly folks." Called out one of the men.
"Thorn." Hangman nodded at him, and grabbed onto a bar as they took off. Hangman was anxious. He desperately hoped everything would work out in the end. He glanced at his watch.
0009. It was a new day.
They flew for what felt lit eternity before they found Pheonix's jet flying low over a group of trees.
"Alright men!" Thorn's raspy voice yelled over the noise of the chopper wings. "The moment this birdie lands, you're gonna get out, and then you're gonna head northwest. They told us Maverick will light a flare or somethin' like that at exactly 0025, that's in five minutes. When you find 'em, you're gonna grab 'em and run. Understood?"
"Yes sir!" the boys shouted. They seemed a little too enthusiastic to be doing a search and rescue mission.
"Good!" Thorn nodded approvingly. The helicopter landed, and he shouted, "Move, move!" The boys hopped out of the chopped, careful to duck so to not get hit by the blades. Hangman followed suit. They had their guns out, pointed in separate directions, yet never pointing at each other. Hangman half-ran-half-walked through the trees. It was freezing out here, how did Mav and Rooster every survive this? He glanced at his watch again. One minute.
He kept moving quickly, snow crunching underneath his boots. 45 seconds. Hangman stopped, eyes scanning the forest in every direction, looking, praying, pleading, for any sign. 29 seconds. He heard twigs snapping. Was it them? 15 seconds. Please, show him something. Anything. 9 seconds.
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…There! In the trees! A small flash of light. Hangman raced forward, into a small clearing, finding Maverick hugging Rooster close to his chest, the snow around them crimson. Maverick's eyes locked with his. He lifted his face to the sky, muttering prayers of thanksgiving.
They looked so beat up…But they were alive. Everything was going go be okay.
Hangman had to stop himself from hugging the old museum relic of a man. He ran, gathering Rooster in his arms, against the protects of Maverick. "Let's go, c'mon. I got you."
They staggered forward together, more boys running out to help them. They were so close. Almost there…
Five miles away from the carrier, and the worst possible thing in Hangman's life happened…
Rooster flatlined.
…to be contined