Breath, take deep breaths, stay calm. And don't panic, that's how you die. It's a message he heard so many times he could hear it in his dreams, or rather, nightmares. "Return in one piece hmokay?". The voice was distant, muffled, not something his mind was focusing on. In return he just gave a simple nod, something that was practically automated. His mind was somewhere else, talking with some assistant wasn't something he had the mental capacity for, not right now. He felt a few firm taps on his helmet, either to make sure it was secure enough, which, it certainly was. Or to reassure him, either way. He ignored it. With that the assistant jumped out of his craft. "Go fuck em up! And don't take too many hits, I still want to sleep tonight". He softly chuckled underneath his helmet, this assistant was young, cocky. It reminded him of his younger self. With a quick shake of his head he gave the teckie a smug retort. "I'll be sure to get hit as many times as possible just for you!".

"Fuck you!". He heard the assistant's muffled laughter as his own smile grew, quickly reaching his arm out to flip the teckie off. He liked them, they had spirit. Yet he couldn't reminisce for too long, as he suddenly felt his craft move. The metal clamps holding his craft started to move him into the hanger. Meaning, it was time.

He took a long quivering breath, he couldn't help but feel nervous. He had done this so many times before but it was not simply something he could get used to. Then again, he doubted anyone could. He slowly opened his eyes. It was like opening the blinds during a early summers morning, lights overwhelmed him as the cockpit's top sliding door closed above him. No turning back now. Immediately as the reinforce glass closed he went to work, he had done this so many times it was almost automated. First, he unstrapped his boot and retrieved a small devise which he plugged into his computer. The small screen lighting up as he scrolled through a list of names, until he found the name he was looking for. Tapping the screen as he came upon his playlist, very creatively named: Asskicking playlist. Next, system diagnostics. His eyes flew over his console, he knew his craft like the back of his hand. Meanwhile his hands darted across the cockpit, flicking buttons and levels. Causing lights to flick on and screens to display information which he already knew. The dim orange interface of his helmet booted up as well, having easy oversight to all the critical information of his craft. He took a few seconds to oversee all the information, all was sound.

The music swayed through the cockpit of his craft. Just as his anxieties swayed through his head. His foot was tapping against the metal deck as he waited, looking though the glass of his cockpit. Seeing and feeling his craft getting pulled up into the hanger. Too bad it took ages. There, outside he saw the rest of his squadron and he could even see the glimpses of the other pilots working on their fighter-crafts. The shiny white surfaces reflected the light from the oversized overhead lights that illuminated the hanger, he could see the last of the staff leave through thick bulkhead doors. It would not be long before it was time. But not yet, there was still some time left and he needed to distract himself. Or else all these thoughts, about death and pain would only build up. Adding more fuel to his anxieties which was not something he could allow. He was a professional after all, the best of the best. And panicking? Already? That's not what the best of the best did.

With a grunt he slid the volume of his music higher, to drown out the thoughts of fear in upbeat and energetic music. And seeing he was already done with the system check he simply leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and casting his vision in darkness. He took a deep breath through his nose, keeping it in as his mind focused on the music. And only the music, nothing else. He didn't care about the soft rumbling of the ship he was in, nor the stale smell of his cockpit. No, only the music. He couldn't allow his mind to wander. To do this he pulled out a secret weapon, still having his eyes closed his arm wandered to the small devise which was broadcasting the music throughout his craft, and switched to the playlist called: Asskicking playlist +. In the same motion increasing the volume of the music as well, finally letting go of the breath he was holding. The speakers blasting his energetic beats, exactly what he needed. The only thing bouncing around in that mind of his was the music he was listening to, further then that? Nothing, No thoughts of worry nor fear. Just, nothing. Exactly what he needed.

Yet his bliss could not last long, as he head a distant voice. He already knew to who it belonged to and he reluctantly placed his hand on the volume dial, lowering it. Through his radio he heard someone groan in annoyance. "Nightwing, come in". Through closed eyes he still smiled, he always got some satisfaction from people calling him Nightwing. "What's the special word?...". There was a few seconds of silence, before someone lets out a even more annoyed groan.

"Nightwing, come in please".

"Thank you, I'm here alright".

"Roger that, all systems green?".

"As green as green can be".

"Did you actually check or?...".

"You see I actually didn't, as I don't know why but I really want to die today".

"Haha, very funny".

"I know, I should become a comedian". He never got enough of annoying mission control. Especially if they were new, which this poor fellow was.

"If everything's alright on your end you're good to go".

"Want me gone that badly?".

"I kinda do actually".

"I'll get of your ass soon enough".

"Mhm, good luck Nightwing".

"Appreciated, and don't blow up whilst we are gone".

"Heh, I can say the same about you". The tone of the operator lifted a bit.

His whole craft shook as the mechanical arm had brought his fighter into position. "I wont"

"People who say that are more likely to die you know".

"Well I guess it's only fair to lower out odds a little to make it fair for them".

He heard the operator sigh and either chuckle or mumble something. "God you're all a bunch overconfident assholes, anyway, I need to move on or else command is going to jump in my neck so stand by for insertion Nightwing".

As soon as he heard the click of the communications turning off he turned up the volume again. Basking in the sounds blasting from his speakers. His entire craft shook as it got into position. The massive hanger door slowly opening up to show a spectacle. Space battles, especially this large were rare. But it was almost beautiful to witness. Large massive warships trying to blow each other up to the best of their ability. The entire battle was illuminated by the flashing lights of the ships firing, the explosions that rocked the massive hunks of steel and the feint trails of light that the rockets and lasers left behind. Fighters flew in formation as small destroyers tried to shoot them down. Massive battleships gave each other earthshattering broadsides and bombers tried to deliver their payload to their targets. It was hard to look at mainly as there was so much happening. Wherever your eyes landed there was something going on. It was almost beautiful to look at, and you could almost forget that in those ships, small and big. Were crewed by people. And that with each shot, with each fighter shot down and each explosion a life was taken. Yet he was about to fly directly into the carnage, into the maw of the of death.

Any normal pilot would feel at least a little nervous and although he was indeed a little nervous he couldn’t help but smile. This, this is what he was looking. The first bits of adrenaline started to flow through his veins as he looked at the spectacle, quickly overpowering his anxieties. For he wasn't any normal pilot, no, he was the best of the best. He flew the most expensive and advance fighter known to the entire ISC. His skills were unmatched and these 'rebels' were about to see why you do not mess with the ISC. A loud siren started to blare as the overhead lights started to shed a bright blue light. It was time.
"Y'all ready?". The voice was burley and commanding, it belonged to Firewing. The leader of his squadron called the Wingers. "You know what to do command, put us on the public frequency, let them hear our battlecies!". It was tradition to let everyone hear these messages, Firewing has always said it was to install fear. But he knew he did it to boost his ego, which he didn't mind, not at all.

"Understood Firewing, all systems green. Beginning launch sequence, kick some ass Wingers".

He heard Firewing clap his hands. "You heard the man lads and ladies! Let's kick some fucking ass! So, y'all ready!?". Firewing's voice was loud and boisterous, trying to hype up the rest. And it certainly worked. Through the radio he heard the rest cheer and whoop, loudly banging their hands on their consoles. And he couldn't help but to do the same. It sounded like a horde of galloping horses, like the cavalry coming at the last minute to safe the day.

His heart raced, mimicking the beat of his upbeat music. Yet this time it was not because he was frightened, no. This time it was excitement. His smile grew as he suddenly remembered why he loved this job. Death might take him but death will have to catch him first and he was one fast motherfucker.

"Administrating H-7-L0". Just as he heard the words he felt a sharp sting in his neck. The needle starting to pump it's injecting into his body. He felt the injecting flow throughout his body. He felt his limbs cramp up as he took a deep breath, awaiting the effects of this injection. And just like that it took effect, it felt like a warm drink on a cold day. It was like a blanket was wrapped around him, he felt all cozy and as more of the injection was spreading across his body he felt his mind loose the sense of reality. Everything started to feel surreal. The blanket around his shoulders was rudely pulled off, instead replaced by a strange disorienting feeling. And as he opened his eyes he was flooded with swaying colors, nothing remained the same color for too long and the flightsuit on his skin felt like it was replaced by a soft fur. And just as he began to enjoy these comforting feelings it was once again rudely pulled away. His mind snapping back into reality, yet a hint of the fuzziness of the drug still remained. Everything felt more intense and time was going at a snails-space.

"Starting launch sequence, all weapons green". The words flowed around his head, the drug still having a grip on his conscience. A grip that it was luckily loosing. But he didn't have to time to worry about that right now. He felt his craft move forward. The metallic arms moving over the overhead reals and towards the outside of the hanger. He quickly made some last preparations, turning off the safeties and booting up his thrusters. But most important off all, switching his playlist to: Asskicking playlist ++. Each second went terribly slow, he could only watch his craft creep inch by inch towards the hanger-door, and closer to the battle. The engine came to life and caused the entire craft to rumble. It was quickly followed by a loud clack as six identical looking drones were released from their stationary place on his craft's wings. They hovered close by, with a feint beam connecting his craft and the ball-like drones. Seeing them work he order them back on his wings again. Next to him his squad-mates where brought into position. They were as eager as himself, loudly revving their engines and letting their thrusters flare up. And as soon as those clamps would let them go they would charge out like a pack of wild dogs.

"All units, stand clear, launching Terrorbirds". Those words were like music to his ears, for it means they were about to engage the enemy. The leather of his gloves let's out a soft squeak as he firmly grabbed the yoke of his craft. A sound that was drowned out by his blaring music, which he lightly bobbed his head to. The seconds passed by awfully slow, it was as time was teasing him. But he couldn't let his mind wander, he had to stay focused. Another second passed, why the delay? Was it the drug making time slow or was it just his adrenaline. Another second, did those fuckers at control mess something up again? They probably did, and other another passed. Now he was getting impatience. Yet his waiting would soon come to a end, as he head a loud clang. His craft was free, he was free. And like a ravaging dog getting released from it's leash he darted off. Wasting no time to immediately go full throttle, his engine roaring to life. And as his craft sped up he felt the G forces take effect, it felt like a punch to the gut. But he was no ordenary person, he trained for this. And he only went faster and faster, faster then any other craft to exist. Nevertheless it still felt like someone was standing on his chest, each breath took more and more effort. Helping him was the tube connected to his helmet, which started to pump air into his lungs. Meanwhile he took deep and calm breaths, just as he was told.

Alas that wouldn't be enough to keep him conscious, for this spacecraft was simply too fast. Probably one of the fastest to exist. And no matter how long you trained, no normal person could stay awake. Luckily for him, he wasn't a normal person anymore. For he was a Terrorbird pilot. He had being modified just so he could fly this aircraft. His ribs and lungs have being reinforced so he could keep breathing somewhat normally even with this speed. His eyes had being replaced with mechanical ones, which do not include the problems of a standard eye. And years of training and brain implants made his reaction speed better then any man he knew. Combined with years upon years of training made him one of the few who were able to tame this mighty beast.

With each second that passed they got closer to the battlefield, it was massive maze of battleships all trying to destroy each other. Whilst the large command ship which they deployed from stayed at the back, overseeing the battlefield and giving out orders. The squadren of seven started to slow down, they've done it so many times that it was almost fully synchronized. Slowing down enough to deploy their drones. Which were now being able to keep up with their owners. "Firewing to Bluewing slow down ya eager bastard, your drones aren't keeping up with you". As he looked over it was indeed Bluewing being eager for battle and going to fast again. He knew how Bluewing felt seeing as he himself liked to go fast as well. But those drones although expendable did reinforce the shield of their crafts. Something they were going to need. And as they got closer he saw the nearby enemy ships start to turn away, fleeing in the mere presence of them. Whilst their friendly ships flickered their outside lights in a salute. Everyone knew what they were capable of, enemy and friend alike. And oh boy were they about to see the might of The Wingers.

"Wingers, y'all know the plan. So get to it lads!". He cleared his throat as he tuned down his music for a bit. "Roger that, Wilco". His reply was soon followed by the rest of the Wingers. He smirked as he quickly made radio contact with Blackwing. "Nightwing to Blackwing, lead the way".

"Roger that Nightwing, learn to use radio codes over". The sly voice of Blackwing came over his radio.

"Stop taking yourself to seriously, over". He couldn't help but softly chuckle to himself.

"Yeah yeah, try to keep up over".

"We both know I'm faster".

"Really now?".

"Look at that, you've stopped using your fancy radio codes, over".

"Fuck you, over".

He heard the stern voice of command come over the radio. "Do not use the radio for chatter out".

He rolled his eyes. "You're no fun".

Even Blackwing gave command a snarky response. "C'mon, can't have nothing, tsk, over"

During the entire conversation he was following the black painted Terrorbird of Blackwing, he didn't usually get paired with Blackwing but he liked them enough not to care. And as their crafts flew over a large heavily damaged ISC battleship which was backing of from the fight he saw the battlefield up close. He saw the true extend of some of the damages, the entire battlefield was littered with countless pieces of scrap which made little clanks as they bumped against his craft. It was clear some brutal fighting has happened. But there was a lull in the fighting, for their side was waiting for the Wingers to arrive. Yet now that they are here it was time to let hell loose. To the right of him he saw the mass of ISC ships which had previously backed off start to head for the rebel fleet again. Firing their mighty cannons into the rebel fleet. The rebels quickly responded by firing back, the battlefield quickly getting lit up by all the firing and explosions. "Nightwing, see that big darkgreen Civirian looking ship? Over". He quickly scanned over the battle field and indeed saw the ship. "Is that the one pushing out boys back?".

"Affirmative, seems that a cruiser has pulled back besides it for repairs over".

"Ain't anything we can't handle"

"I'll circle around to get a good hit on the cruiser, you distract the battleship, I doubt I'll be able to reach you with that music of yours over".

"Gotcha, and just speak up".

"Sure buddy, Blackwing out".

He saw Blackwing make a detour as he himself still made a B-line for the battleship. His scramblers made sure he wouldn't be picked up by their radar, he knew he could be stealthy yet he needed to create a distraction for Blackwing. And a distraction he will give. He quickly aimed his craft towards the battleship, which had a massive cannon build into it's belly. His finger hovered above the firing button, but before he would engage the enemy he tuned up his music to the point that it almost drowned out any other sound. Then, he fired. He felt his entire craft shook as his build in cannon started to light up the battleship, and oh did it feel amazing. Boosting up his thrusters quickly flying under the behemoth as he launched a missile towards the beast. He saw countless flashes as the battleship responded with firing back. Yet his craft was too fast, and the shots which did hit barely scratched his shields. He danced around the ship, firing his multitude of weaponry onto the enemy. All the sounds of his craft and music blended together in one loud amalgamation of thumps and vibration. The music was just a background noises at this point.

And just like that a massive soundless explosion lit up this part of the battlefield, he looked up as the cruiser which was peppering his craft with bullets erupt in flames, Blackwing flying past his recent kill. He quickly tailed his companion as they both descended onto the battleship. It stood no chance, like predators jumping on a helpless prey they tore it apart. Their guns ripped the shields and eventually the hull to shreds, their missiles tore chunks off from the behemoth as their fast and agile crafts dodged the incoming fire. The battleship tried to put up a fight, it gave it's everything yet it's everything was not enough. He almost felt bad for it, it wasn't made to combat fighters, it was made to destroy other battleships after all. Yet they were the enemy and they had to die. They knew what they got into as soon as they fought back against the ISC.

And as the rampage continued and the behemoth tried to limp away he swear he heard something, it was a voice. It wasn't his music as those were only erratic beats, no, it was the radio. It was probably command bitching about something again. Although he swore he heard his name, reluctantly he turned it down. "Nightwing acknowledge!".

"Yeah fuck, what do you want?".

"Nightwing there is a fucking destroyer coming right for us!"

"Shit". He looked over to his scanner which was indeed rapidly beeping, signaling a nearby ship. The beeping being drowned out by his music. Looking out of his window he saw the ship approaching, being a little too close for comfort. He cursed himself for getting sneaked up on like that. He couldn't make any more of these mistakes. "Gotcha, I have visual".

"Roger, readers say it is a VD ship over". VD's, also known as Verdarcarations, they were the main group of this rebellion, know for their magic that can effect technology and their burning hatred against the ISC.

"Shit, I'll engage these bastards you make sure the battleship doesn't live another day".

"Roger that, Blackwing out".

The battleship limped away as Blackwing started to finish it off. Whilst he made his merry way over to this new foe. Which turned out to not be alone. Again he cursed under his breath as a squadren of fighters flew over the destroyer, the destroyer being tailed by a few smaller ships which were all out for his blood. He admired their bravery as most ships would and already had ran away. They were either very stupid or very brave. Either way they had to catch him first and he'd like to see them try. He took one last deep breath, feeling the drug run through his veins. Before he slammed his foot down, his craft darting forward. For no odds are too great for him, as he was a Terrorbird pilot! The best of the fucking best and they want to try and 'attack' him? Oh no he wouldn't have any of this, they can try, they can try all they want. But they are nothing compared to him. And he was about to put them in their place the bastards that they are. His adrenaline skyrocketed just as his ego, the beating of his heart mimicked the even more erratic beats of his music. Which he turn up all the way, each thump of the music vibrated against him as the enemy got closer and closer.

A wave of laser and bullets washed over him as the enemy started to fire at him. Bullets and lasers alike pinged of his shield. His ship's AI already started to track the enemy ships which shot everything they got at him. His console started to rapidly beep, signaling that multiple missile shot from the destroyer were heading straight for him. But that wasn't the only thing headed for him. For the squadren of fighters sped towards him as well, lighting his ship up with their turrets. He would deal with them first, hoisting his ship up as he fired his cannon into the squadren. And these unshielded and lightly armored fighters were no match, he ripped them apart like paper. The entire cohesion of squadren fell with one foul swoop, those who haven't being hit desperately tried to make a run for it, suddenly not being so brave anymore. Yet he could not bask in this glory for long, for the rest of the enemy still wanted him dead. And they came prepared, being equipped with all sorts of weaponry specially aimed at destroying fighters. He knew because they were hitting him rather hard, his shields getting chipped away by the second.

Each shot that hit caused his craft to shake and shudder, he beeping from his console only getting louder and louder. Blending with the music as  into a amalgamation of sounds telling him how screwed he was. But he would not pay any attention to it, for he had baddies to kill. And no time to panic, as a single mistake could spell his doom. And he wasn't in the mood to die today. Furthermore he swore he saw more ships incoming from the corner of his eye, he certainly had his hands full.

It was like a dance, swirling and twirling about the battlefield. A cloud of bullets and laser were constantly on his craft. Chipping away at his shields bit by bit, each second he spend doing anything besides killing the enemy was a second wasted and another step towards death. But with another press of a button another of the enemy ships was torn to pieces. And with another flash more lives were taken by his mighty craft. The constant thumping of floating pieces of scrap which was bumping against his hull was easily drowned out by the loud beeping of his console signaling that his craft was being tracked by a multitude of missiles. With another swift turn another missile lost it's target but a set few wouldn't be lost that easily, fired by that bloody destroyed which was teasing him for afar. Each time as he tried to get closer another ship would appear and chase him away.

His eyes felt dry as he hadn't blinked for what felt like ages, a waterfall of sweat dripped down his face. And he was suddenly very thankful for his suit's cooling systems. All the while the drug was flowing through his system, which was the only reason why was still so calm. Yet once again his composure was tested, a missile, again fired by that destroyer had finally found it's way close enough. Bound for a direct impact, yet one of the ball-like drones quickly flew out from the formation, taking the hit for him. His vision was casted in red as the explosion washed over his ship. At least it wasn't a direct hit, but he knew he had to do something or else the next one might be the final one. His eyes scanned the battlefield, the destroyed that was harassing him was cowering behind a few destroyed and still functioning ships, but there was a gap. Two destroyed wrecks which had crashed agaisnt each other had now started to drift away, leaving a small opening. But it was clearly too small for his ship, or was it? No he wouldn't make it, except it's better then nothing. But if he was that eager to die then he might as well just take another hit. Ah screw it, he made his drones attach themselves again. Before speeding towards that gap. He either would be a very stupid genius or get turned into human paste.

It got closer and closer before, he heard metal scraping. It broke his heart to hear his craft crying out like that but, he was still breathing. Or so he thought. He looked around, everything was still the same. Either the afterlife was really boring or he wasn't dead, he'd go for the latter one. Quickly looking at the status of his craft. Only to see that one of his battery packs and part of the left side of his craft was all but ripped off, fuck. At least it wasn't anything vital. Although it would half his time in the airtime but he should still have enough, or so he hoped. Nevertheless it was time to get that motherfucker, with a swift turn he aimed his weaponry onto the destroyer. Getting a wave of anti-air bullets from all the nearby ships, as they tried one last time to shoot him down. But it was too late, he pressed down that firing button and would not let go until that bloody ship was nothing more then a disappointing cloud of scrap. Some other nearby ships got caught up in the crossfire, but he didn't care. If it looked like a ship and didn't have the ISC insignia it would be ripped to shreds.

After holding his breath and wasting his ammunition for a solid minute he finally lets it a deep quivering sigh. Having stopped firing as his eyes darted from the cockpit's windows to his scanner. With all the ships either having being destroyed or chased away by a handful of friendly ships along with Blackwing. He could finally relax, the encounter that felt like it lasted hours in reality only lasted about 15 minutes. His still shaking hands tuned down his music as the realization dawned on him, he took on about a dozen or more ships and kicked their asses. The adrenaline was still rushing through his system, giving him a sudden burst of energy as he smacked his hand on his consule, letting out a gleeful laugh. "HA, take that! Fuck you! Fuck you! Take that you motherfuckers! Thought you could beat me!? Huh! That's what I thought!". His radio suddenly came to life.

"Blackwing to Nightwing, good fucking job but celebrate when we've won the battle, over".

In his excitement he didn't realize he turned on the radio, dammit. Yet he was still far too energetic to give a proper answer, giving Blackwing a quick retort. "Fuck you". Sometimes you got to stay simple.

"Nightwing come in over". He grunted as he heard the stern voice of command, reluctantly tuning in.

"Nightwing reporting in". He knew he would be in some deep shit when he returned.

"Nightwing we've being trying to reach you for age-". He quickly cut them off with a response of his own.

"I've being kicking ass for the past eh". He looked at the time. "20 minutes, sorry that I couldn't kindly ask the enemy to stop shooting at me so I could hear what you have to say".

There was a moment of silence before command spoke up again. "We are pushing the rebels back but their flagship is making a run for it, join together with Redwing to eliminate it over".

"What about Blackwing?".

"He will be joining you, any further questions? Over".

"Negative".

"Roger that, out".

"Blackwing to Nightwing, just follow me over".

He needed a moment to regain himself, with a quick headshake and another sigh he started to follow Blackwing. "So where the fuck where you?".

"Holding back more rebels that were trying to kill you over".

"Took your sweet time".

"Well seeing on how much fun you were having it would be rude for me to interrupt, now let's stop chatting before command starts yelling at us again, over".

The pair backed away from the fighting, taking a arch around the enemy ships to attack them in the rear. And with another look it was clear that the ISC fleet was pushing the rebels back. The poor fools never stood a chance in the first place. A part of the rebel fleet started to retreat, probably thinking they could escape. There he already saw Redwing harassing them.

"Nightwing try and stay at the back, seeing that nasty wound you got over".

"Roger that".

And once again he would go into the attack. Some tried to flee, only to fly directly into Nightwings arms. The only ships who could really stand a chance at escaping were the small fast ones. Whilst others tried to fight back, only to be blown to bits not too long after that. Yet some others chose to give up. Jumping into their escape pods and abandoning ship. He liked them the most. Nevertheless they were detirmed, Redwing got a good hit on the flagship but it still limped away. It was a tough beast, alas it wouldn't be able to withstand the constant pressure from the Terrorbirds. If it wasn't for a very unlucky, or lucky radio call. Suddenly the voice of Redwing came over the radio. And he knew to listen to the man, at a instant his ear was glued to the radio.

"All Wingers come in, Bluewing and Deathwing are in some deep shit, I repeat Bluewing and deathwing are in deep shit". His heart dropped, one of them was in trouble. And it was the code to always help your fellow Terrorbird pilot. Yet the flagship was right there. Then again, the ISC was powerful enough to just find the ship again, it was wounded after all. Ah fuck it, he turned away from the fighting, being at the back made it easier to retreat anyways. He'll face the consequences later, besides he had a mountain of them waiting already so might as well add some to it.

Soon he was followed by Blackwing and Redwing. He could hear command shouting at them through the radio but he simply turned up his music again to drown them out. There in the middle of the battlefield he saw the rest of the wingers, and the remaining Verdaraction ships which desperately tried gunning them down. And concerningly enough they were making progress. They quickly sped towards the battle, as soon as they were in range they started to engage the enemy. Now with all seven of them they were a force to be reckoned with, not to mention the other neighboring ISC ships which took a potshot once and a while. Knowing better to stand in the path of a Terrorbird.

The enemy had put up a fierce resistance fueled by their hatred. A hatred that was caused by the ISC when they exploited their magic users for the benefit of the ISC. The Verdarcarations seeing no compensation from the tech giant. In anger they rebelled thinking like so many others to be able to topple the giant. And like so many others they got to face the might of the ISC. They are seen as the most powerful corporation to exist in The Star Alliance, rumored to have a military more powerful then the nation they reside in. And as the common saying goes: The ISC can survive without The Alliance but the Alliance cannot survive without the ISC. But he couldn't care about that, he saw himself as a simple soldier. The ISC gave him a purpose, a family and food on the table, something which he lacked back in the day. And exchange he only needed to shoot down a few ships of people he didn't know? Sure, it wasn't the right thing to do but it was the thing he needed to do to survive.

"Shit, shit, they're going to blow!". The frantic voice blared over the radio as he looked around. And indeed he saw one of the VD ships start to give of a feint glow. Looking at his radar confirmed his suspicion, they were about to overheat their reaction and blow themselves up along anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in the area. He quickly tried to turn around and make a run for it but it was clear they were preparing for this as the radar showed the energy spike increasing at alarming levels. He knew he wouldn't be able to run for it. Instead he braced himself. Putting all of his remaining energy in boosting his shield. His drones positioning to hopefully absorb some of the blast with their shields. Not too far of him he saw Bluewing do the same, yet the fool didn't have any of his drones near him. Probably destroyed, he never took good care of them.

Having done all he could he simply waited, the enemy ship glowed a feint green. Before going up in flames. The silent explosion send a invisible shockwave of radiation along with a wave of ship chucks his way. Yet surprisingly it wasn't the biggest treat, suddenly his console started to rapidly beep, looking down he found that something was tracking his craft. His eyes darted around to see a missile headed straight for him, and that blast just killed his shields. Luckily for him a drone following it's usual programming quickly puts itself in front of the missiles path. Nevertheless it was still terrifying to look at incoming death, yet his eyes wandered over to another missile. It seems a whole cluster was fired at them from a retreating Verdarcarations ship and one was heading straight for Bluewing, shit.

"Bluewing come in there is a fucking missile heading straight for you!".

"Fuck I know!". He saw Bluewings damaged craft try and take off but it was too late. And he wouldn't be able to escape in time.

Nightwing tried to get closer, maybe his drones could take the hit but when he noticed that his power was all but gone, most of it was used to protect him against the blast and the rest got scrapped of not to long ago. He could only sit back and watch in dismay as the missile made direct contact with Bluewing. And with a flash another Winger was taken by death.

The wreck of Bluewings craft was hauled back to the command ship and is laying unceremoniously on the deck of the hanger-bay. With the now six remaining Wingers standing around it. It was a strange feeling, he loved them like brothers but only because they were fellow Terrorbirds. There is a certain connection he had with them. They all spend years upon years training to become a Terrorbird pilot. They were handpicked and shaped to be the best of the best, alas even the best of the best have to die. Evident by the wreck which laid at their feet. They all knew death watched them over their shoulder each time they stepped into their craft. There were a few moments of silent. The rest of the crew, engineers and officers stood silently from a distance. Letting them have their moment. After a while this silence was broken by Firewing clearing his throat. "Lads, Bluewing was a good fellow, but a rash one as well. But he died a good death, a Terrorbird's death. A way all of us will die one day".

These pilots were all pilots which ran from something, they have nothing to return to. For once you've become a Terrorbird pilot you'll always be one. To fight and fly, until one day you get shot out of the sky. Any other death is not a death they want, for their Terrorbird is their life and their eventual tomb. "Now lads, let's not remember Bluewing with these sad faces. Put those helmets off and let's celebrate! For we won the day after all did we not!?". He started to walk a cirle around the pilots, giving each a pat on the shoulder as he continued his speech. "Would he want us to be sad? Would Bluewing want us to be miserable? No! He'd want us to cheering and toasting to his name! So what do y'all say!? Wanna be miserable? Or do y'all wanna celebrate this victory!? I know what I would wanna do!" The rest of the Wingers started to cheer and whoop, the excitement from Firewing bleeding over to the rest. Their spirits starting to rise as Firewing led them to the most important place on the entire ship, the bar.

As soon as they entered the bar it went silent, all eyes were pointed at them. The crew whispering amongst each other. They were practically celebrities. Firewing took one look around the room before walking up to the bar. But before he could reach his destination a lieutenant from a nearby table stood up.

"Ahem, eh, I believe the admiral wants to speak to y-".

"Talk? Hear that boys? The admiral wants to talk! Well if he wants to talk so badly then he can just bring his ass over here".

"I don't thi-".

"Not? That's a shame, well, more time for us no? Say, we did win the battle, so where is the cheering? Where is the celebrating? I think we need some change in this place, so, up up, free drinks for everyone!".

The entire room cheered as the crew descended on the bar, the entire bar staff working on the clock to refill everyone's drink. Meanwhile Firewing pulled of his helmet, giving Nightwing a sly wink as he grabbed a drink himself. Soon there would be people dancing on the tables and everyone was drunk as drunk could be. Nightwing had spend his time drinking and telling curious officers to bugger of when they came to him asking about classified information about his craft. Mostly keeping to himself as he sat in the corner of the bar. He usually enjoyed these parties yet the images of Bluewing's demise still floated around his head. Suddenly he felt someone force a glass in his hands, looking up he saw a tall and blue skinned woman grinning from ear to ear, it was Deathwing. He was somewhat close to her. Having went to the same class to become a Terrorbird pilot. "Come on, drink boy!". It was clear she was very drunk.

"I know I-".

"Nonono, drink, c'mon, don't be such a twat". He rolled his eyes and took a swig, giving her a careless gesture for approval.

"Atta boy". She gave him a light punch to the chest. "Still think'n about Blue?".

"Maybe".

"Ah c'mon, what did Fire say?".

"You're using that as a excuse for your alcoholism".

"Alright, fair, but Fire makes a good poooint. Don't be all sad, just, drink!".

He groaned, giving in and started to down the bottle, one changed into two, two in three. And it wasn't long before he was just as drunk as the rest. Dancing on the tables with the other Wingers as well. Before Firewing shushed the entire room. "L-lads! Ladies! We gave those fucking rebels one hell of a whooping!".  His little speech was interrupt by him hiccuping, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "But we lost some good fucking people, Bluewing, one of us, was a hothead and to be fair not too smart. But he was a good man! Just like all the others who died during this battle, so let's toast! Toast to Bluewing! Toast to the fallen!". The entire room held up their drink. "To Bluewing!".

It was a night well spend, a night that would be cut short when a engineer stumbled into the bar. "Admiral!". The entire mood was put on it's head as everyone tried to come to attention, tried, yes. Succeeded, no. With the alcohol still in their system most stumbled or could barely stand still. The admiral, a older gentleman with a very impressive white beard looked rather unimpressed at the bunch of drunks. He cleared his throat and gestured towards Firewing, who with a sigh walked up to the man. They discussed something as Firewing turned to the room. "Y'all still be here when I return!". The room gave a cheer and that was the point Nightwing blacked out.

The next few days were uneventful, he had spend most of his time repairing his craft. It was his pride and joy and if someone ever laid their finger on her they would loose it, except for a few select engineers and that assistant, but they were sitting the corner playing with their tablet. And repairing her was rather therapeutic for him. And whilst he was working on removing all the broken parts of the battery pack he couldn't hear the door of his hanger opening due to his loud boisterous music that was acting as a background noise. He bobbed his head to the tunes as he removed another piece of metal. Turning around and almost getting a heart attack when someone was standing not too far from him. The person was a dark skinned woman having her hair tied neatly into a bun and being adorned with a well kept captains uniform. And she did not look too impressed, gesturing at the stereo which was playing his music. Which a grunt he walked over to it and tuned it down. "You know that eventually you'll get hearing lose from your habits".

Nightwing simply shrugged as he looked over a table with his tools. "Already have partially, besides if it turns into a real problem then I've lived for too long".

She just let's out a long sigh. "Why do you have to be this difficult Night".

"Difficult?". He finally turned to her, giving her a rather smug look as he scoffed. "I get shit done isn't that what they want? I just do it my way". Knowing this might take a bit he sat down on the table.

"Mhm, that's the problem, your way isn't the way they like".

"Then they can go fuck themselves".

"Well I'm afraid that wont cut it".

"Why not?".

"Well you might not be if you continue like this, as, the admiral wants to speak to you".

Shit, this time he might actually be in trouble. Although it couldn't be that serious as if it was he wouldn't be here. "What now?".

"I Just follow me Nightwing".

He rolled his eyes as he pulled of his tool belt, still having some grime on him and his hoodie as he followed her to the admirals office.

The office was of course looking very pristine and fancy. Having a lot of room to move around which was uncommon in the cramped interior of spaceships. There sitting at his desk sat the admiral. Which was tapping away on his keyboard before he looked up at Nightwing, gesturing at a chair in front of his desk. He gave the woman behind him a nod. "Thank you Clarissa". Before focusing his attention to Nightwing. "Now please, sit down".

Clarissa gave a quick salute before standing next to the door. Nightwing also giving a salute but it was much more slobby. Eventually taking his seat and leaned back in his chair.

"Theodore Musarra Surdo". It gave off the same feeling as a parent calling their child by their full name.

"What about it?". He remained as snarky as ever.

"You've gotten in quite the trouble Theodore".

"What about it?".

The admiral pulled something up on his computer and Theo knew he was in for a ride. And with the admiral clearing his throat he also knew it was a long list. "Improper radio codes, using the radio for chatter, interrupting someone on the radio, not being prepared to receive orders, stealing mechanical parts, unofficial use of Slow and somehow no matter how much we search you, you always appear to have one of those music devise things on you".

He nodded, leaning his head in his hand as he avoided eye contact. "Fair".

"Is that all you have to say Theodore?".

"What more do you want me to say?"

The admiral just sighs again and focuses his attention on Theo. "We could've gotten the leaders of this enemy fleet yet you let them go".

He suddenly got more agitated. "So I should've just let the rest of the Winge-". He had raised his voice but the admiral raised his hand to shush Theo.
"I know, it was expected just… Disappointing. Either way, seeing as your aircraft has being damaged I have being asked by our Clarissa here to find something to do for you".

Suddenly his interest was peaked.

"Even though we have defeated the enemy fleet, we have sustained heavy damage and will dock near a space port on Castagon".

At the mere mention of Castagon he felt a nasty taste in his mouth.

"Where we believe a section of the enemy has hidden in the city of Onigan".

And with those words his worst suspicions came to life, his heart sank as he clenched his fists.

"And seeing as you are native from Onigan we th-".

"No".

"Theodore…".

"No, I'm not going"

"Theodore".

"I'm never returning to that fucking shit hole ev-". He started to get up

"Theodore! Sit down!". The admiral looked more and more agitated, giving Theo a stern look.

In response Theo fell silent, yet sit down he did not.

"Theodore, you're lucky that you're a Terrorbird pilot, or else you would have lost your position a long time ago. But your luck is running out, I want you here Theodore, I really do, but the higherups wont tolerate your continuous behavior. And if you continue like this there will be more drastic consequences".

Theo still had his fists clenched tightly, letting out a puff of air through his nose. "Alright so?".

"So it is time you do something to gain their favor once more".

"And what does Onigan have to do with this?".

The admiral cleared his throat. "We believe a section of the rebellion might be hiding in the city of Onigan. Sadly the authority of Onigan isn't too helpful".

"Yeah no shit".

"Theodore, please, don't interrupt me. I know you are drugged up with that Slow so just sit down".

With a groan he finally sat down, indeed still being intoxicated by the Slow he took not too long ago.

"That's what I mean Theodore, you keep doing your own thing. We tell you one thing and you do the other".

"I get it done in the end don't I?".

"I get that you prefer your own plans but for the better of everyone sometimes it would be more beneficial to follow our instructions".

He gave the admiral a simple nod.

"Either way, the higher ups demand a solution. And we don't want to dispose of you. So I've talked with Firewing and Clarissa and we have come up with a solution".

Theo gestured for him to continue.

"We need a good pilot for out troops down in Onigan and seeing as you grew up in the city and worked for the law enforcement we thought you would be a good candidate".

"Oh please, there are so many pilots, why me?".

"Your aircraft is badly damaged and will take some time to repair. You'll be able to make yourself useful and if you do this for us then you will show the higherups that you can still follow orders".

He threw his hands up. "What kind of logic is that!?"

"Look, Theodore we can't keep letting you get away scot free. See this as your punishment".

Theo tried to protest but the admiral simply raised his hand to shush him again. "You will be briefed as soon as we arrive, you're dismissed Theodore".

He was flabbergasted, quickly standing up and almost knocking the chair over. He had to use all his will power not to retort with something snarky that would land him in more trouble, eventually just storming out.

Clarissa sighed. "Well that went well".

"You know what is at stake here Clarissa, if the intelligence is correct we cannot miss this opportunity. And you know that, just try to keep him in check".

"Yes sir". Clarissa saluted the admiral before she left the room.

Theo stormed out of the office and after having flipped off a crewmember which commented about all the grime on him, eventually he decided to clean himself. Finding a bathroom and splashed his face with some water and washed his hands. He felt strange, was he scared? No he couldn't be. With a annoyed sigh he looked at himself in the mirror. A tired man with fair skin looked back, his face was somewhat unkept and he had a slight goatee with his black hair being cut short. His eyes were metal spheres with two yellow dots in them. And on the nape of his neck he had multiple ports for his helmet to attach to. He stared at himself for a solid minute. What a disappointing sight. All those years ago he had fled from his homework, he thought he could keep running from his past but it seems he didn't run fast enough. He wanted everything except to return to that hell-hole, but how bad could it be. Just transport a few troops here and there, maybe shoot something down. Yeah, it couldn't be that bad, could it?