Chapter - 12 - Gear and Levels

Somewhere in Melromarc- en route to Castletown

Strike Force

[Redacted] "Ice" [Redacted]

As Strike Force descended from the hilltop, their boots crunching against the gravel beneath, the silence between them was briefly punctuated by the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Castletown lay ahead, the walls just barely visible on the horizon. The once tense air, filled with the heat of battle, had now shifted to something more relaxed—though the weight of the impending Wave loomed over them.

"So… Lira," Whiskey began, glancing at her with a curious smile. He gave her a light nudge, shaking her a little. "Why do you fight?"

Lira blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. She hadn't expected any of them to care about her motives. She adjusted her cloak and glanced at the ground, mulling over her response. "Why do I fight?" she repeated softly. "I fight because… I don't have a choice."

Whiskey raised an eyebrow at Lira's comment, and Ares, always quick to jump in, added with a smirk, "A couple of days ago, you told us you were born into this life. Serving the Queen and all that other bullshittery. But you had a choice. You could've taken the easy way out—let yourself get killed in battle, or by some trigger-happy… or in this case, blade-happy maniac, and escape all of this. But you didn't. Why?"

Even Ice, who had been listening quietly, turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes watching Lira's reaction, curious to hear her answer.

Lira's steps faltered for a moment, the question hitting her harder than she expected. She looked at the ground, her lips pressed into a thin line. The silence stretched between them, the air heavy with unspoken tension.

"I…" She began, hesitating before lifting her gaze to meet Ares' piercing stare. "You're right. I could've given up. Could've let it all go and taken the easy way out. But… something always pulled me back. I think…"

She paused, searching for the right words. "I think it's because even though I hate this life sometimes, even though it feels like a never-ending struggle, I want to believe there's more. That there's a way to make a difference. Not just for myself, but for the people who can't fight back. People who don't have the power or the courage."

Whiskey nodded, his expression softening slightly. "So, you fight to protect them?"

Lira nodded, her voice firming up. "Yes. I fight because I want to give people a chance. I don't want to stand by and watch innocents suffer while those in power play their games. I don't want to be the person who looked the other way."

Ares let out a low whistle. "That's a noble answer, kid. Takes guts to stick to that when everything around you tries to break you down."

Even Ice, who rarely showed much emotion, gave a small, almost imperceptible nod of approval.

"But…" Lira continued, her tone quieter now. "I'm starting to wonder if it's enough. If one person can really make a difference in this world. Especially when the people who are supposed to protect it… betray it."

There was a beat of silence after her words, the weight of what she said sinking in.

The group walked on in silence for a moment, the heavy weight of Lira's words hanging in the air. The once-relaxed atmosphere shifted slightly, as the reality of her statement settled in.

Ice, his gaze fixed on the horizon, finally spoke. His voice was low, steady. "One person can't change the world, Lira. But one person can make a difference in someone's life. And sometimes, that's enough."

Lira glanced at him, her brow furrowed in thought. "But is it? We're up against forces so much bigger than any of us. People who control everything, who manipulate entire nations. How can we even make a dent?"

Whiskey chuckled softly. "You'd be surprised what a few well-placed moves can do. It's not about taking everything down at once. It's about hitting the right spots, breaking the right links in the chain."

Ares added with a smirk, "Or blowing it up entirely, if you prefer that approach."

Polak, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, his voice calm but pointed. "It's never about the big picture. It's about the people in front of you. The ones you save, the ones you protect. Sometimes, that's all that matters."

Lira looked at each of them in turn, realizing that, despite their hardened exteriors and their willingness to do what was necessary, there was a purpose behind their actions. They weren't just soldiers or killers. They believed in something, even if they didn't talk about it much.

"So… you all believe in that?" Lira asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Ice nodded, his voice steady and calm. "We fight for those who can't, even for the ones who hate us. The truth is, death comes for everyone eventually. The only real choice you have is deciding whether you're ready to let that happen now, or if you're going to stand and fight. You fight against the horrors, the monsters, the things everyone else is too scared to face. You go where others run from. And yeah, one day, when it's your time, you die."

He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. "But when that time comes, you'll know that you've done everything you could. You'll look back on your life and realize you gave it your all. That's what makes it worth living for, what makes it worth fighting for. We fight for humanity, or die trying."

Lira listened carefully, her eyes searching Ice's face for any hint of doubt, but all she saw was a hardened resolve. His words hung in the air like a weight, each one carrying the gravity of countless battles fought, both seen and unseen.

"We fight for humanity, or die trying," Ice finished, his voice unwavering.

Whiskey, usually the one to crack a joke, remained quiet for once, nodding slowly in agreement. Ares glanced at Lira, his usual smirk softened, but the fire in his eyes was still there. Polak walked beside them, his silence speaking volumes. These men had clearly been through more than she could imagine, and yet they stood, still fighting.

Lira swallowed, feeling a lump form in her throat. "I never thought about it like that," she admitted softly. "I've always seen it as… just survival. But you—you're fighting for something bigger."

"Not always... like we said, but yeah," Ice replied, his tone slightly gentler. "But it doesn't mean we don't struggle. It doesn't mean we don't feel the weight of it. It's heavy, every single day. But the alternative? Letting those horrors win? That's not an option."

Lira nodded slowly, her mind spinning with the weight of his words. She had always thought of herself as a soldier for the Queen, fighting in the shadows for a kingdom she believed in. But this—this was something different. They fought not for a nation or a throne, but for humanity itself. It was a cause so much greater than any one person, and yet they carried it as though it was simply part of who they were.

As they neared the gates of Castletown, the towering walls casting long shadows over the group, Pops spoke up, bringing their focus back to the task at hand. "We've all had our moments of doubt, kid," he said, looking at Lira. "But in the end, it's about what you choose to stand for."

Lira nodded, the weight of her realization still fresh in her mind. She didn't fully understand it yet, but she was starting to see why these men fought the way they did.

As the group made their way through Castletown's bustling streets, the lingering effects of the first Wave could still be seen. The city had already felt the brunt of the initial attack—buildings still bore the scars of the monsters that had swept through just a month ago. Some streets were quieter than usual, with citizens clearly still on edge, the trauma of the battle not yet forgotten. The walls of Castletown loomed tall ahead of them, standing as the kingdom's first line of defense against the next onslaught.

Pops kept his eyes moving, scanning the alleyways and rooftops. Ares and Polak walked side by side, their hands never straying far from the concealed weapons beneath their robes. Whiskey led the way, casual but always alert. And Ice, as usual, remained quiet—his mind already turning over the next steps they needed to take.

Despite the relative peace, there was an underlying tension in the air, as though the entire city was holding its breath, waiting for the next strike. The citizens were rebuilding, but the knowledge of another Wave coming soon hung over them like a dark cloud.

They approached Erhard's shop, its large wooden sign creaking as it swayed gently in the breeze. The rhythmic clang of a hammer striking metal echoed from inside. The blacksmith's forge was busy, smoke rising in steady plumes from the chimney.

"We need to get you geared up," Ice said, nodding toward Lira. "The first Wave was just the start. You won't survive the next one without proper equipment."

Lira glanced down at her current outfit—simple, worn leather armor, clearly insufficient for the challenges ahead. She knew Ice was right. The first Wave had been devastating, and if what they said was true, the next one would be worse.

As they entered the forge, Erhard, the burly blacksmith, glanced up from his work. His brow furrowed slightly as he spotted the group, but then recognition flickered in his eyes.

"Back again, eh?" Erhard grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Didn't expect to see you so soon."

Ice stepped forward. "We need gear. Something sturdy for her," he said, nodding toward Lira.

Erhard's eyes shifted to Lira, his gaze appraising. "Sturdy, eh? After what I saw from the first Wave, I don't blame you. You expecting to throw her into that mess?"

"You could say that," Ice replied, his tone serious.

Erhard set his hammer down and gestured for Lira to follow him to the back of the shop, where rows of armor were displayed on racks—everything from basic leather to reinforced steel.

As Lira browsed through the selection, Ice and the rest of the team stood by the entrance, keeping an eye on the street outside. The tension from the recent battle still lingered, and they weren't about to get caught off guard.

Whiskey, always trying to lighten the mood, smirked. "Think she'll go for something heavy, or stick with the light stuff?"

Ice didn't respond, his focus on the task at hand. "Whatever keeps her alive."

A few moments later, Lira returned, carrying a set of armor—a mix of lightweight leather reinforced with steel plates on key areas like Torso, ellbows and knees. It wasn't the heaviest, but it offered better protection than what she had.

"This should work," she said, her voice more confident than before.

"Can you move in it? Move quickly?" Ice asked, his tone all business.

Lira responded without hesitation. She performed a few swift movements—rolling her shoulders, stretching her arms, and kicking into the air before unsheathing a short sword in one fluid motion. She finished the quick demonstration with a nod, confirming her comfort with the new gear.

Ice watched her closely before giving a small, satisfied nod. "Great. Now put your robe back on. We need to stay under the radar."

Lira grabbed the robe from her pack, slipping it over the armor. It felt strange, hiding something so protective under such simple fabric, but she understood why. They needed to blend in, especially with the city still recovering from the first Wave. The fewer eyes on them, the better.

As the group started to move again, Whiskey fell into step beside Lira, smirking slightly. "You look like a proper fighter now. Just don't let that sword slow you down."

"I'll keep up," Lira replied, her voice steady with new confidence.

"You'll need to," Ares chimed in from behind. "The next Wave's not gonna be any easier. You saw the damage from the first one."

"I saw," Lira said quietly, her thoughts briefly drifting to the destruction left in the wake of the first Wave. Villages burned, families torn apart… the kind of devastation that shook even seasoned fighters. She knew that if the next one was worse, they'd need everything they had to survive it.

Pops, walking ahead, glanced over his shoulder. "Once we're out of the city, we'll start leveling. You're gonna need every bit of experience you can get before the next hit. We won't be able to babysit you."

Lira bristled slightly at that, but she understood the truth behind the words. She wasn't at their level, and she needed to get stronger. "I'll manage," she muttered, determination flaring up inside her.

Ice led the way, his sharp gaze constantly scanning the streets as they neared the edge of the city. Castletown was still alive with activity—people rebuilding, merchants peddling their goods, children running through the streets—but beneath the surface, there was a tension. Everyone knew that something worse was coming.

"Let's get moving," Ice said, his voice low but commanding. "The sooner we're ready, the better."

As they passed through the city gates, Lira couldn't help but glance back one last time. Castletown had been her second home for so long, and now it felt like a distant memory—a place she wasn't sure she'd see again once the next Wave came crashing down.

She turned back to the path ahead, her hand resting on the hilt of her new sword. There was no turning back now.

As they moved toward the city gates, the tension in the group was palpable. Ice could sense the unease in his team. They were seasoned operators, used to high-stakes missions, but the unpredictability of the Waves had even shaken their confidence. Lira's new gear would help, but it wasn't nearly enough. They all knew that to truly stand a chance against what was coming, they'd need more than just weapons—they needed heavy firepower and mobility.

"Ice," Pops spoke up, his voice low, "we can't go into this next Wave without proper gear. We're running low on ammo, and we're walking around like civilians in this place. If we're going to fight, we need to get back to Station and gear up."

Ice nodded in agreement. "You're right," he said firmly. "We're heading back to Station. We need the trucks, weapons, and supplies."

Lira glanced over, a look of confusion crossing her face. "You keep mentioning this Station. Who or what is that?"

Pops, already on edge, leaned around Ice to glare at Lira. He hadn't trusted her from the start, and after their encounter with the bandits, that distrust had only grown. His voice came out in a low growl. "None of your business."

Ice shot Pops a warning glance and pushed him back, stepping forward to address Lira directly. "Station is our forward operating base," he explained, his tone calm but authoritative. "Think of it as our outpost. It's where we resupply, plan, and regroup. You'll see it soon enough."

Lira hesitated for a moment before nodding. She still had questions, but the tension in the air made it clear that now wasn't the time to push for more answers.

Ice, satisfied that things had calmed down, gestured toward a narrow alleyway off the main street. "Alright," he said, his voice low and firm. "Here's the plan. I'm going to call Station and request an exfil by helo once we're out of earshot of these locals. Any objections?"

Ares, ever the troublemaker, raised his hand slightly as if he had something to add. Ice glanced at him but moved on, ignoring him completely.

"Good. Move out." Ice gave the order and led them out of the alley, his eyes sweeping the surroundings with practiced caution before he turned toward the main gate.

Lira trailed behind, her brow furrowed as she watched the dynamic between Ice and his team. She questioned the casual way Ice dismissed Ares' input, but she kept her mouth shut for now, choosing to observe. These men were different—focused, efficient, and strangely unshaken even in the face of danger. Whatever their pasts held, Lira knew they operated on a level she had never experienced.

They approached the city gates, the bustling activity of Castletown fading as they moved toward the quieter outskirts. Once they were out of sight from any prying eyes, Ice pulled out his radio and switched to the secure channel. He glanced back at the others, ensuring they were in position, and then pressed the PTT button.

"Station, this is Strike Force. Requesting EXFIL at LZ Sierra. I say again, requesting EXFIL at LZ Sierra. We have a plus one. How copy? Over."

The radio crackled for a moment before the familiar voice of Station came through. "Strike Force, this is Station. We got you Lima-Charlie. Copy on that Plus one, We got Clerick heading to the LZ at this time. ETA 10 mikes. Over."

"Roger that, Station. Strike Force, out." Ice stowed his radio and nodded to his team. "Ten minutes, we're out of here."

Whiskey, ever the jokester, glanced around with a smirk. "And here I thought we'd be hoofing it out of here again."

Pops let out a grunt. "Don't get too comfortable. Last thing we need is someone spotting a giant metal bird taking off."

As they continued their march toward the LZ, the tension in the air seemed to ease slightly. Lira, who had been quietly observing the team's dynamic, decided it was time to speak up. The moment felt right.

She moved a little closer to Ice, matching his pace before asking, "Can I ask you something?"

Ice didn't break his stride. "Go ahead."

"Back there," she started cautiously, "when Ares raised his hand… you just ignored him. Why?"

Ice glanced over at her briefly before returning his gaze forward. His tone was flat and cold, "Because the only thing that would've come out of there would be bullshit."

Lira's eyebrows shot up, and she half scolded, half taught him, "You can't know that! Maybe he had something important to say."

Ice slowly turned his head toward Lira, his expression completely deadpan, eyes locking onto hers with a sharp, piercing look. The silence hung thick in the air, making her shift uncomfortably. "You're shitting me. Right?" he asked, his voice flat, bewildered by her sudden shift in tone.

Lira held his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down. Ice sighed and leaned back slightly, calling out to Ares. "Yo, Ares! What was it you wanted to say back there?"

Ares, a few steps behind, glanced up from adjusting his gear, surprised that Ice even bothered asking. He shrugged casually, a small smirk on his face. "Honestly? I was gonna suggest we pick up some food before heading to the LZ. You know, since we're always running low on MREs."

Lira blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of his answer. "Wait… that's it?"

Ares chuckled. "Yeah, that's it. Thought maybe we could get something a bit tastier than dehydrated meat and stale crackers for once."

Ice shot Lira a knowing look, completely deadpan again. "See? Bullshit."

Whiskey, catching the exchange, let out a hearty laugh. "You really thought Ares was about to drop some deep, tactical wisdom? Man barely thinks past his next meal."

Ares rolled his eyes, though a grin crept onto his face. "Hey, priorities. Can't fight on an empty stomach."

Lira, now realizing how off the mark her assumption had been, muttered under her breath. "Fine, point taken."

Satisfied, Ice turned his focus back to the path ahead. "Good. Now let's move. We've got a bird to catch, and I'm not hanging around to see if anyone else decides to show up uninvited."

"Even though… it'd be fun to see them get shredded by six thousand rounds a minute. I've heard the door gunners on our Hawks don't play around," Ares said with a stupid grin, his eyes gleaming with the anticipation of chaos.

Ice shook his head, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You're a damn psycho, Ares. We're here to get out quietly, not start a war."

"Yeah, yeah, quiet as a mouse," Ares muttered, clearly disappointed. "But if something does go sideways, at least we know those gunners have our backs."

Whiskey chuckled from up ahead. "You'd just love to see that, wouldn't you? Whole town turning into a fine mist from a minigun sweep."

Pops, who had been silently walking alongside, glanced back at them. "Let's just hope we don't need to find out. Last thing we need is half of Castletown remembering what our birds look like."

Lira, walking slightly behind them, frowned, still processing the banter between the operatives. "You guys talk about this like it's just another day."

Ice shot her a glance, his tone calm but firm. "For us, it is. We've seen worse, done worse. You get used to it."

Lira didn't respond immediately. She knew these men were different from the soldiers or mercenaries she'd encountered before, but the ease with which they talked about destruction still threw her off. They were clearly highly trained, but more than that—they were conditioned for this kind of work. It wasn't just a job for them; it was a way of life.

After a few moments, Ice's radio crackled again. "Strike Force, this is Clerick. We're inbound to the LZ. ETA five mikes. Be ready for Exfil."

Ice responded quickly, "Roger, Clerick. We'll be ready. Strike Force, out."

He turned to the team, his tone sharp. "Five minutes, let's pick up the pace. I don't want to be standing in the open longer than we need to."

Whiskey gave a mock salute, his smirk returning. "Wouldn't want to keep our ride waiting, boss."

As they neared the LZ, the sound of the Pave Hawk's rotors became audible in the distance. The team instinctively picked up speed, moving quickly toward their extraction point. Lira glanced at the sky, spotting the silhouette of the helicopter growing larger as it approached.

"Hope your bird flies as good as you say it does," Lira muttered, half to herself, as they approached the clearing.

Before Ice could reply, the thunderous beat of the Pave Hawk's rotors intensified, growing louder by the second. The helicopter descended gracefully, the wind from its blades kicking up a cloud of dust and dirt as it settled down a few dozen meters in front of them. The doors slid open with a mechanical whir, and the crew chief quickly hopped out, waving them forward while scanning the perimeter, his eyes sharp as he ensured the area was secure.

"Move!" Ice barked, gesturing for the team to hustle. There was no room for hesitation, not when they were this exposed.

Whiskey and Pops moved first, their rifles still held tight under their robes. They darted toward the Pave Hawk with Ares and Polak right on their heels. Lira lingered for just a moment, staring at the massive helicopter in awe before Ice nudged her forward.

"Go!" Ice ordered again, and Lira nodded quickly, rushing toward the open door of the helicopter. The force of the wind from the rotors made her cloak billow wildly around her, nearly blinding her as dust and debris filled the air. She struggled to push forward, but the urgency in Ice's voice and the crew chief's impatient gestures kept her moving.

The crew chief stood at the door, her posture rigid, eyes hidden behind the dark visor of her helmet. She waved them in with a sense of urgency but shot Lira a sharp, scrutinizing glare. Despite the noise of the rotors, her body language screamed impatience. Lira hesitated just for a second, feeling the weight of the woman's gaze, but Ice's steady hand on her arm kept her focused.

"Go!" Ice ordered again, and Lira obeyed, rushing toward the open door of the Pave Hawk. The rotors whipped the air into a frenzy, kicking up dust and debris that stung her face and made it hard to see. Her cloak flapped wildly behind her as she stumbled forward, but Ice's firm hand on her arm kept her steady.

The crew chief stood at the door, her visor reflecting the swirling dust, making her expression unreadable. She waved them in with urgency, but as Ice and Lira approached, she stepped forward, blocking their path for a moment. Her voice barely cut through the deafening roar of the rotors, but her question was clear. "She the plus one?!"

Ice didn't hesitate. "Yes, ma'am!" he shouted, still holding Lira by the arm, his voice sharp and decisive.

The crew chief hesitated just for a second, her visor turning toward Lira as if sizing her up. For a moment, Lira felt the weight of her scrutiny, the doubt. But then the crew chief stepped aside, giving them a quick nod. With a firm shove, Ice guided Lira into the cabin of the helicopter, climbing in right behind her.

The door slammed shut, sealing them inside, and the noise of the rotors softened, though the vibrations still rumbled through the cabin. Lira collapsed into one of the seats, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She glanced around, seeing Pops, Whiskey, Ares, and Polak settling in, all of them calm and collected as if this was just another routine exfil.

As the Pave Hawk lifted off, Lira felt a strange mix of relief and dread. The city of Castletown disappeared beneath them, the chaos and noise left behind, but the weight of what was coming still hung over them all.

Then the pilot's voice crackled through the radio. "Station, this is Clerick. We got Strike Force and the plus one on board and are RTB at this time, over."

After a brief pause, Station's response came in loud and clear. "Clerick, this is Station. Copy all. Helipad 2 is clear for your arrival. Station out."

The Pave Hawk banked slightly as the pilot adjusted their course, heading toward the FOB. Inside the helicopter, the tension was palpable. The rhythmic thumping of the rotors filled the cabin, a constant reminder of the high-speed return to base.

Suddenly, the Crew Chief leaned in close to Lira, her mask still covering the lower half of her face and her visor down, hiding her expression. Lira jumped slightly at the unexpected movement and instinctively glanced at Ice, a mix of confusion and caution in her eyes. Ice just smirkedknowingly, but said nothing.

Lira flinched again as the Crew Chief moved her hand, but instead of reaching for her, she pulled off her face mask and slid her visor up, revealing the face of a— surpisingly normal looking woman in her mid-twenties with a friendly grin. Without saying a word, she extended her arm toward Lira, offering a headset.

Lira stared at it for a moment before hesitantly taking the headset and placing it over her ears. The loud roar of the helicopter's rotors suddenly faded into the background, and for the first time since they boarded, she could hear clearly.

"The name's Dagger," the Crew Chief said with a smile, her voice clear and calm now that the noise was muted. "Welcome to my bird."

"Thanks…" Lira replied, her voice quieter than she intended. She wasn't sure what else to say. This was all so new, and Dagger's easygoing demeanor was making it both better and stranger.

Dagger chuckled, clearly picking up on Lira's unease. "First time flying in a Helo?" she asked, her grin widening.

Lira nodded slightly, her gaze shifting toward the open door and the blurred landscape rushing beneath them. The wind howled through the cabin, but the others seemed perfectly at ease, like this was just another day for them.

Dagger chuckled heartily. "Don't worry! Snake-Shit over there—" she jabbed a thumb toward the two pilots at the front of the cockpit "—he's the best pilot the Foundation can offer."

There was a grin on Dagger's face as she yelled back toward the cockpit. "Am I right, Snake?!"

Without missing a beat, the pilot responded, his voice sharp with mock irritation. "Shut up. I'm trying not to crash!"

The crew burst into laughter, even the door gunners joining in. The Strike Force members, as usual, seemed unfazed, though Pops smirked and Ares shook his head at the antics.

Dagger turned back to Lira, still chuckling. "Anyways, where did they pick someone like you up?"

Lira raised an eyebrow, still adjusting to the sudden shift in tone. "I was with the Queen's Shadows," she replied, her voice barely audible over the hum of the rotors. "But I got… caught up with these guys."

Dagger's smile didn't falter, but her eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Queen's Shadows, huh? You don't look like the type who would get mixed up with a group like that. Guess you've got your own story, then."

Lira hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. Before she could say anything, Ice, who had been sitting nearby, chimed in without looking over. "She's one of us now. That's all that matters."

Dagger raised an eyebrow at Ice's comment but said nothing. The crew had long since learned not to question Strike Force operatives too much. Their missions were often top-secret, and people like Dagger didn't get paid to know all the details.

"Fair enough," Dagger said finally, settling back in her seat. "If Ice vouches for you, that's good enough for me."

Lira glanced at Ice, who was now staring out the side of the helicopter, his expression as unreadable as ever. She still didn't fully understand the dynamic between the operatives, but she could sense the unspoken bond they shared—one built on trust forged through countless missions together.

"Since you're probably gonna be hanging around us a little longer, let me introduce you to the crew," Dagger began, turning around and gesturing to the door gunner on the left. "This here is Cobra," she said with a grin but paused when Lira opened her mouth.

"Cobra?" Lira asked, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.

"Oh yeah, Cobra," Dagger replied, still grinning. "Because when it comes to the Minigun, he's the most accurate motherfucker we have." Cobra gave Lira a curt nod in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable behind his visor. Lira glanced at the strange contraption mounted by his side—what she assumed must be the Minigun they kept mentioning. It looked... intimidating, to say the least.

"The guy across from him is Havoc, our second door gunner." Dagger gestured toward the other side, where Havoc gave Lira a casual two-fingered salute. Lira returned it with a nod, still trying to process the bizarre nicknames these people had.

Dagger then pointed up toward the cockpit. "And our Pilot—you've already heard him—we call Snake-Shit. Why? 'Cause he always flies low, like a snake slithering along the ground."

At this, Snake-Shit raised his hand behind him without turning around, acknowledging the introduction with a simple wave.

"And finally, the guy next to him is Duck," Dagger said flatly, her tone suddenly losing its usual spark.

Lira blinked, her confusion deepening as she stared at Dagger. "Why Duck?"

Dagger sighed, shaking her head with a smirk. "Because he's always ducking from his responsibilities."

As if on cue, Duck turned around just enough to give a half-hearted wave, his lack of enthusiasm almost comical. Lira couldn't help but let out a small laugh despite the serious situation they were in.

"Well, it's… quite the crew," Lira said, still amused.

Dagger shrugged with a smirk. "Best crew you'll find anywhere."

Ice, watching from the side, gave a small nod toward Lira. "They'll get us where we need to go. That's all that matters."

Lira, still curious about the crew, glanced at Dagger. "And what about you? Why do they call you Dagger?" she asked, her voice innocent and completely unprepared for the answer she was about to get.

Dagger leaned in close to Lira, her voice dropping to a whisper loud enough for Lira and Ice to hear. Unfortunately for her, the headset meant *everyone* could hear her. "Because I like playing with daggers… especially with Ice's dagger," she finished with a wink toward Lira.

Lira's eyes widened in horror, her face turning beet red as she instinctively looked up at Ice. Ice, on the other hand, had a murderous glare directed at Dagger, his own face flushed with embarrassment. He crossed his arms, clearly trying to maintain composure.

"If you keep this up," Ice growled, his voice low but dripping with annoyance, "I'll throw you out of this helicopter. I swear to God."

Dagger, unfazed, pouted dramatically, giving Ice a teasing grin. "B-but I'm just telling the truth!" she said, batting her eyelashes in mock sadness.

Whiskey couldn't hold back a laugh, leaning in as he added with a mischievous smirk, "ooh, first Pops, now Ice? Looks like we've got a run going here, boys!"

The rest of the Strike Force erupted into laughter, and even the crew up front seemed to be chuckling in the background. Lira, still mortified, tried to hide her face, while Ice, clearly at the end of his patience, glared at Dagger one last time before shaking his head in defeat.