CHAPTER FOUR
Good Luck, Cassie

MIRAMAR, CALIFORNIA
FIGHTERTOWN, U.S.A.
2012

TOM KAZANSKY SAT BEHIND THE DESK IN HIS OFFICE, awaiting the entrance of his expected visitor. He roughly swallowed, subtly wincing at the pain erupting from his sore throat that hasn't left him in weeks. He began to stand to get another cup of water, but the door to his office opened before his hamstrings had ceased contact with the leather.

Tom, better known as "Iceman" preceded by his Commander status, greeted the recently-graduated pilot with a stoic expression, "Lieutenant."

Once the door closed behind a fresh-faced, twenty-five-year-old Cassandra Mitchell, Iceman heavily exhaled, reverting back to the laidback "Uncle Ice" she remembered from her infrequent visits to North Island as a child.

He leaned back in his chair, "Well, it's sure as hell been a while." Cassie immediately noticed the incredible hoarseness of his voice. He outstretched his hands in reference to her figure, "I mean, look at you! Christ, I remember when you were about..." he held his hand up to the height of his desk, "...yay tall." He shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest in disbelief, "Now you're out here flying your own plane — just like you said you would."

An amused smile came across Iceman's face as he reminisced, "I remember when Mav and I came to pick you up from the airport one time — " His sentence was cut off by an aggressive-sounding cough. Its abruptness caught Cassie off guard, she immediately looking for a way to help. At her concerned expression, Iceman waved her off as he stood and walked to the water cooler across the room, filling up a plastic cup. After he drank the small volume within a few gulps, although with some visible difficulty, he explained to Cassie, "I've had this cough and sore throat for a few weeks now. Nothing's making it budge. I just finished my second round of antibiotics."

He shook his head at his predicament before tossing the cup into the trash can beside his desk that was brimming with similar paper cups. Iceman eyed Cassie's rigid posture, motioning towards the vacant pair of chairs across from his desk, "Take a load off, kid." As Cassie did so, Iceman sat back down in his own chair, returning his attention towards their previous conversation. He laughed as he recalled the memory, "Anyway, I remember when we went to go pick you up, and you pointed at the planes departing from the airport, and you said that you wanted to fly one of those some day."

Cassie faintly smiled as she was temporarily transported back in time to that same day, "...and Dad told me, 'No, you'll be flying a real plane: an F-14.'" Iceman lowly chuckled, stirring up another coughing fit. Cassie stood up from her chair before he could, reassuring him, "I'll get it." She quickly grabbed a cup of water from the cooler, hurriedly handing it back to Iceman.

As he nodded in thanks and accepted it, Cassie glanced behind him at the photographs hung all along the wall. Front and center was the same picture of Maverick and Iceman during their own TOPGUN days that was in the lobby, smiling and arms clasped around one another due to being on the departing end of a hug.

When Cassie was a child, Maverick loved to entertain the idea of her becoming a pilot just like him. The Mitchell legacy continuing onto the next generation made his chest swell with pride — in theory. In practice, however...

...the idea scared Maverick shitless.

Once she entered high school and talks of college frequently came up in their phone calls, Maverick did everything he could in an to attempt to sway her interest elsewhere. Only fourteen years old, Cassie was confused as to why her father didn't want her to join the Navy. After all, he still actively served and routinely talked about his adoration for the service. She figured he was simply doing his fatherly duties, reminding her that she could chase her dreams! Be whatever she wanted! That even if she hypothetically didn't want to join the Navy, he would be supportive regardless. Nonetheless, Cassie stuck to her original plan and maintained her ambitions of following in Maverick's footsteps of becoming a fighter pilot.

Then, when Cassie overheard her mom's conversation with her stepfather — another naval aviator (Charlie obviously has a type — don't say that to her face, though) — about Maverick pulling Goose's son's Academy application, she realized that he could very well do the same to hers. Thus came the four year-long fib of Cassie attending Georgetown, majoring in pre-law so that she could get her dad out of the frequent trouble he always found himself in — the same exact words she told Maverick when she "announced" where she would be attending college, to which he chuckled and nodded in agreement.

To be clear, Charlie was not informed about this little scheme of Cassie's whatsoever. She and Maverick spoke every once in a while, but whenever Cassie's college education came up, their conversations were so generic that they could have been applicable to any university. Cassie's perfect plan came to an end when Charlie called Maverick about graduation arrangements, asking whether or not he would be free the day of her ceremony — at the Naval Academy.

It was safe to say that was an eventful evening during the conference call with Cassie and her parents, the latter furious with her (and impressed that her ruse lasted as long as it did, but they omitted that sentiment from their scolding).

"What's going on with you two?" Iceman's question interrupted Cassie's train of thought. She glanced over to see him, now recovered, looking at her. He half-heartedly pointed towards Maverick, "You and Mav."

She shrugged, "Nothing."

Iceman cocked an eyebrow in disbelief, "Oh? So, you sent a formal request to your commander that you only be addressed by your mother's surname for...what? Shits and giggles?" Cassie immediately turned around, facing her back towards the picture to prevent the guilt brewing inside her stomach from bubbling over.

She took her previous seat, "It has nothing to do with him — well, it does, but..."

Iceman narrowed his eyes, waiting for a continued explanation, "'But...?' C'mon, kid, you gotta give me something to work with. I'm not going to put out this order just because you're in the mood for a change." Cassie involuntarily sighed, forgetting for a moment that she was in front of her superior.

She quickly straightened her posture in an effort to make up for her attitude, "I don't want to be known as just Maverick's daughter." Iceman's patronizing expression morphed into one of sympathy. "I'm proud to be his daughter, I am — but I don't want to be known as the girl who's only in TOPGUN because she's Maverick's kid." Cassie shrugged, "I'm the only girl in my class, I have a big enough target on my back as it is."

Iceman stayed silent for a few seconds before casually shrugging, "Alright, sounds good enough for me." Cassie's eyebrows flinched inwards, causing Iceman to chuckle, "I already approved the request. I know why you sent it in, I'm not that dense." He tilted his head, "I'm not like Mav." Cassie smiled in amusement, glancing down at her hands in relief.

"But, seriously, kid." Cassie looked back up at him. "Don't let any of that get to you. You're in TOPGUN because you're among the best of the best, not because of who your daddy is." Cassie nodded in appreciation of the vote of confidence, that sentence being exactly what her self-esteem needed to hear.

"If anything," Iceman continued, "they wouldn't want to put you in TOPGUN especially because you're Mav's daughter." Cassie gently laughed, knowing that statement was certainly true. Her superiors could only hope that she wasn't as rebellious as her father. "So, really, you're just that good that they couldn't come up with some bullshit excuse as to why they didn't call you up." He jokingly smiled, "Besides, I could always pull a few strings. Hell, look at me," he outstretched his arms in reference to his large office, "I'm the Commander of the Pacific Fleet. I make the rules."

Cassie laughed to herself, "I think Dad's rubbed off on you after all these years."

Iceman similarly chuckled, dropping his arms, "Yeah, maybe." He began to cough again and sipped the rest of the water in the cup that Cassie had gotten him. "While you're here, kid, I feel like I should give you a head's up about your instructor." Cassie nodded, expecting to hear that her instructor would be extremely strict, hated her dad, or both.

Iceman folded his hands on the desk before glancing up at Cassie to gauge her reaction, "It's Goose's son."

Hated her dad, check.

"Now, I've already changed your profile on the most-circulated forms to say 'Blackwood,' so I don't know if he knows who you are...did you two ever meet?"

Cassie shook her head, "No, Carole and him moved back to the Midwest before I was even born." She shrugged, "I talked to her a few times over the phone, though. Whenever she called Dad while I was around, she would always ask to talk to me. She would send Dad some pictures of him from time to time, said how much he looks like Goose." Although they weren't close by any means, Iceman liked Goose — everyone did — and remembering his premature death still struck a chord.

Cassie shrugged again, "I don't know if Carole ever told him about me."

Iceman nodded in understanding, "Well, regardless, he's coming off a hot streak. His ego's most likely at an all-time high, especially as the," he held up his hands to perform air quotes, "'youngest instructor in all of the program's history.'" He shook his head, "There will still be more senior instructors too, but..." Iceman gave a pointed look at Cassie, "I don't think he'll react too well to those ol' Mitchell moves of yours."

Cassie narrowed her eyes, attempting not to laugh at the unexpected term, "'Mitchell moves?' What — ?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Iceman interrupted. "When you get dangerous." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking very much the part of the disappointed adult figure, "Yeah, I've read your flight performance reviews." He pinched his index finger and thumb close together, moving his hand horizontally as if reading off of an airborne sign, "'Irrefutable skill and aviation IQ. Has tendency to act beyond what is ordered, despite the consequences.'"

Cassie leaned forward in her chair, "Every time I pulled these so-called 'moves' was to save my wingman. So, those 'consequences' were all positive." She pointed towards his computer, "I think someone should revise that review to be more specific."

"In each instance, you put yourself, your WSO, and your plane at risk," Iceman reasoned. "And I..." he sighed, "...I don't want to see the day that your luck runs out." Cassie slowly leaned back in her chair, subconsciously sinking down and making herself appear smaller.

Iceman shook his head, "Listen, as much as you try to hide it, you're Mav's daughter through and through. There's no denying it. But maybe, just...take a page out of my book this time?" Cassie nonverbally nodded, glancing at the analog clock on the wall behind Iceman's desk and noticing the time.

"I better go," she announced, rising from her seat. "Thanks for seeing me...sir."

When Cassie turned and put her hand on the door handle, Iceman called out, "Cass." She paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Regardless of what name you go by..." he shook his head, "...all that matters is who you are. Don't psych yourself out before you've even started." Cassie nodded once again, faintly smiling in gratitude.

Iceman pointed at her, "Remember, kid — you were born for this."

CASSIE AND ROOSTER STOOD ON DECK ACROSS FROM ICEMAN'S DESK AS HE STARED AT THE UNLIKELY PAIR, eyes trained on one before he heavily sighed and switched to the other. Not even a full week after his initial meeting with Cassie was she back in his office. He pushed himself away from his desk, causing his chair to follow suit. Iceman stood and walked from behind his desk to in front, stopping directly in front of Cassie.

He raised his eyebrows, repeating his warning to her from her previous visit, "You're getting dangerous."

"I was ordered to shoot down the bogey, and I did so, sir."

"You dropped below the hard deck."

"Only to a thousand feet. Well within my limits to make a safe ascent."

Iceman shook his head in disbelief, "A thousand feet...' Y'know, you sound a lot like —" He stopped himself short upon realizing that they weren't in the room alone. Iceman shook his head disapprovingly once more, "Any feet below the hard deck does not warrant a safe ascent." He and Cassie stared directly at one another, apparently having a nonverbal conversation. Meanwhile, Rooster was facing straight ahead while watching from his peripheral vision, confused as to why their Commander wasn't reprimanding her worse. After all, Cassie had broken the cardinal rule of flight training, and yet she was simply being let off the hook?

Iceman addressed Rooster, "Keep an eye on her, Lieutenant." He walked back around to his desk chair, "She's the best recruit you've got." He sat down, now speaking to Cassie in a condescending tone, "Now, you just have to keep her in line so she can continue to fly."

Rooster replied, "Yes, sir." Iceman began to cough, causing Cassie's body to flinch forward in concern. Iceman noticed and glanced her way, about to dismiss her, but couldn't stop coughing. Cassie dropped out of her posture to grab water from the nearby cooler.

She handed the plastic cup to Iceman, "Here." He wordlessly accepted it, although Cassie noticed that he seemed to have difficulty swallowing. She narrowed her eyebrows, "Ice — ?" Remembering that Rooster was in the room with them — and was watching the entire scene play out while very, very confused — Cassie caught herself. "— man? Are you alright, sir?" Iceman nodded, gently touching Cassie's arm in thanks since he was still struggling to get the water down.

When he finally did so, Iceman shooed the two, "You're both dismissed." After exchanging one last glance with him, Cassie was the first to leave the office. Rooster's eyes were burning into the back of her skull as they walked out of the building. Once they were outside, he didn't hesitate before picking up his pace to be directly beside her.

Rooster asked loudly, "What the hell was that, Birdie?"

Cassie acted oblivious, hoping that she would be able to play off her and Iceman's obvious relationship, "What was what?"

Rooster abruptly grabbed onto her arm, forcing them both to a stop. "If anyone else even went an inch below the hard deck, Iceman'd chew out their ass until they were crying for their mommies. But you go four thousand feet below the hard deck and all you get is a little slap on the wrist — not even, actually!" Rooster's hand flew up in a confused gesture, "Would you like to enlighten me on why that is?"

Cassie narrowed her eyes, a smart comment locked and loaded, but she relaxed her features once she internally reminded herself that this was technically her superior, now matter how much of an asshole he was.

She lifted her chin and calmly answered, "I'm sorry but I don't know the answer to that, Lieutenant."

He scoffed, "Jesus — do you know the answer to anything?"

"I know that I'm the best pilot in my class." Cassie pulled her arm out of Rooster's grip, "I know that, in real life, there is no hard deck —"

"Yeah, because in real life you'd be dead —"

"I beg to differ." Cassie noticed how close in proximity the two had gotten as their conversation grew heated, and wanted to wrap up their disagreement before she had drawn any more attention to herself from passersby. "I stand by what I did today, sir. I was given a mission and I fulfilled it. That's what I'm trained to do. That's what I'm going to do."

Rooster narrowed his eyes, "And if you get yourself killed?" The question caught Cassie a little off guard, she would admit, but she understood why he, of all people, would have asked it. Throughout their training, Rooster always emphasized safety; of their wingmen, of their planes, of their wizzos, of themselves. The circumstances surrounding his own father's death was undoubtedly the main reason for his warnings, and Cassie agreed that they should prioritize safety.

But the reality was that, in the real world on real missions, safety wasn't always guaranteed. From the laundry list of sports that Cassie played throughout her youth, she learned to practice how you play, right? She applied the same mindset to flying.

Truthfully, Cassie didn't have a witty comeback for Rooster's question. He raised his eyebrows in expectation, "Hmm?"

Cassie exhaled a sigh through her nostrils before extending her arms to her sides, letting them immediately fall back down, "Then I guess I get myself killed. Happy?" She turned and walked away, leaving Rooster by his lonesome.

Admittedly, he felt a twinge of guilt — but only a twinge. In his opinion, Rooster was well within his rights to reprimand Birdie the way that he did. His number one priority in training his TOPGUN recruits was safety.

Rooster had already personally gone through the pain of not having a loved one return home. He would be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to instill that same sensibility in the next generation of fighter pilots. He was a rule-follower. (Possibly a little too much of a rule-follower, at times).

Cassie, however, did not live by the same set of rules. His instructions didn't seem to sink through her thick skull. As Iceman said — she flew dangerously. Like she had no one to come back to. Unknowingly to Rooster, Cassie would've somewhat agreed with that statement.

God forbid anything happen — her parents would mourn her, obviously. There would be a naval ceremony where Cassie's superiors spoke fondly of her — even Rooster, who seemed to have anything but nice words to describe her with. The few close friends Cassie had would post on their social media timelines, even her old classmates whom she hadn't spoken to in years. But she had no significant other, no children, not even a pet. No one else would be left with a Cassandra Blackwood-shaped hole in their heart.

Unknowingly to either of them, Cassie and Rooster were a lot more alike than they thought in that sense. He preached the importance of coming back to one's family, but what family did he have left? Rooster was a sibling-less orphan. He despised the closest person he had left to a family member. He was all on his own, too.

As he watched Birdie's retreating figure, none of this occurred to him. His fists were still clenched with frustration that was the handiwork of said girl, herself. While Rooster knew that taking up the role of being a TOPGUN instructor wouldn't be completely smooth-sailing, dealing with an insubordinate pilot — who wasn't even disciplined by the Commander of all people — was a little out of his wheelhouse.

How the hell could he put a bird back into its cage when all it wanted to do was fly?

PRESENT DAY

CASSIE BLACKWOOD DID NOT GET PERFORMANCE ANXIETY. In fact, whatever the opposite of performance anxiety was — that's what she had. She thrived on the thrill of adrenaline, just like her father. Maverick, who would be heading their first day of training. While Cassie wasn't necessarily anxious, she definitely held herself to a higher standard today. She wanted — no, needed to prove herself not only to her peers, but to Maverick himself.

However, one thing for certain was that Cassie did not want to go first in this exercise. Thankfully, she wasn't among the names on the top of the premade list, unlike Rooster, Payback, and Fanboy. She wanted to see what tricks Maverick would pull straight out of the gate. The surprise of his presence alone was only child's play compared to what he surely had in store for training. The rest of the aviators sat in the lounge, surrounding a radio that was connected to the planes' feeds.

"Good morning, aviators," Maverick's voice sounded from the speaker. "This is your captain speaking. Welcome to basic fighter maneuvers. As briefed, today's exercise is dogfighting. Guns only, no missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of five thousand feet. Working as a team, you have to shoot me down, or else."

"'Or else' what, sir?" Payback asked.

"Or else I shoot back," Maverick answered. Cassie could practically hear the smirk on his face. She noticed her peers exchanging glances with one another, but her eyes remained trained on the radio. "If I shoot either one of you down, you both lose."

"This guy needs an ego check," Hangman muttered from one of the couches, holding a model airplane. Cassie hummed in agreement.

"We'll see to that," one of their peers jeered, high-fiving his wizzo.

"What do you say we put some skin in the game?" Payback taunted. Cassie exhaled heavily through her nose. Although the arrogance of Navy men never failed to surprise her, these particular antics resulted in two-hundred push-ups to the first person shot down in the exercise. Cassie believed that Payback momentarily forgot how to count, and had a memory lapse of just how much two-hundred is. Cassie exchanged glances with Phoenix, who had the same expression written on her face. Each of them shared an incredulous shake of the head.

The group listened as neither of the planes could identify Maverick at first, until a sudden "Damn it!" and "What the hell?!" rang through. Either pilot's commands came through the radio, although it seemed as if no one could get a stable target on Maverick. Although Cassie couldn't actively see what was happening, she was taking mental notes of Maverick's chosen tactics for today, and which of his commonly-used ones he hadn't yet shown off.

"Payback, break right," Rooster chimed in. Cassie listened to the conversation between the pilots as Rooster evidently saved Payback's and Fanboy's lives, only to get shot down soon after. A round of oohs rang throughout the group, while Cassie stayed quiet. Although her peers may have believed that they had an edge over Maverick due to his older age, dogfighting against him was far easier said than done.

"Hear that, Birdie?" Hangman asked. At her quipped eyebrow, he smirked, "It's dinnertime." Cassie rolled her eyes at his half-assed bird joke. He stood up, prepared to fly in the next exercise, "Listen and learn, sweetheart." Cassie didn't outwardly react, she only maintained her gaze out of the window as their peers began to fly closer towards the runway to land their planes. After Hangman left, Einstein moved closer to Cassie's side.

Einstein shook his head, "That guy's a dick."

Cassie huffed a laugh, "I noticed." They listened to the next round of pilots, including Hangman, Phoenix, and Bob, and were unsurprised to hear Hangman leaving his wingmen in favor of attempting — and failing — to take out Maverick on his own. Pilot by pilot, Maverick shot each one down with minimal effort.

Finally, Cassie and Einstein were next on the list. Of course, they were paired up with Hangman. While on the tarmac, Cassie quickened her pace to catch up to his long stride.

"Hey," she called out, grabbing Hangman's attention. Although he stopped to turn towards Cassie, she continued walking until they were only a few feet apart. "We can't take him down one-on-one. We have to actually work as a team."

Hangman nodded, "I agree." He began to climb into his plane, calling out over his shoulder, "Just follow my lead." Cassie rolled her eyes in annoyance, immediately turning on her heel to walk away. Einstein naturally followed. The two hoisted themselves into their plane, getting ready for the exercise.

"Don't listen to Hangman," Cassie spoke aloud, more so for her own ears than Einstein's. "He doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"Uh, your mic's on, Birdie," Hangman's voice emitted from the radio.

Cassie began to drive the plane towards the center of the runway as its canopy closed, "I'm well aware." Both planes flew into the sky and made it to their designated training area. Cassie glanced around, reminding her wizzo, "Keep an eye out for him, Einstein. Look everywhere." While Cassie kept her eyes peeled, obviously, she felt confident in Einstein's abilities. Just from the couple days that she's known him, she learned that the kid is incredibly observant. Cassie scanned the sky above her and Hangman's planes, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Usually, that meant that —

"Tally low! Tally low! Nine o'clock!" Einstein yelled out.

"Got him," Cassie cooly replied, moving the control stick so that she could complete a split-S maneuver. She initially flew upwards, only to invert the plane and fly downwards in the opposite direction. Low and behold, Maverick's plane was now positioned in front of Cassie's.

"Who taught you that one, Birdie?" Maverick asked over the radio, although he was already well-informed of the answer.

Cassie was preoccupied over attempting to lock onto his plane that was swinging back and forth, requiring more concentration, "A friend."

"I think you're forgetting something," he added, toying with Cassie as he continued to fly in front of her, within sight but just out of reach. Cassie narrowed her eyes, her dad's cryptic message throwing her off-guard.

"He's right in front of you, Birdie, get him!" Hangman's voice rang over the radio. Cassie fought hard to keep her concentration on Maverick's plane, but his words kept ringing in her head.

What am I forgetting...? Cassie asked herself, quickly running through what Maverick had told her when he originally taught her the move. She was too lost in her thoughts to notice Maverick begin his cobra maneuver.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, only noticing when Maverick's new position became directly above her own.

"When you have the shot — take it," Maverick finished.

"Spike on my six!" Einstein yelled out. Cassie immediately pulled the control stick towards her, sending the plane upwards in a beeline for the clouds.

"Now would be a good time for backup, Hangman," Cassie spoke to her supposed wingman.

"Don't worry, honey, I got you," he replied, although his obnoxious use of pet names didn't alert Cassie of his position.

"It'd be nice to know where you are," Cassie replied, finally leveling out her plane once she broke through the clouds.

"Typically for wingmen to work," Maverick began, "you keep each other in the loop."

"Yeah, well..." Hangman trailed off, "...I'm not so typical."

"Do you see him, Einstein?" Cassie asked, referencing his monitor that could read heat signatures.

"Uh..." he trailed off, "...I see a heat signature directly below us but I can't confirm whether it's Hangman or Maverick."

"Alright," Cassie spoke, "let's go find out." Inspired by her dad's earlier moves, Cassie used the control stick to contort her plane into the cobra maneuver, ending up directly behind the plane Einstein had read.

"He's on my tail, Birdie — !"

"That's me, asshole," Cassie responded, exhaling a heavy sigh. She flew so that she was beside Hangman and could see into each other's canopies. "Now, do you want to work together?"

"Birdie —" Einstein began "— tally on my six — !" As soon as the words left Einstein's mouth, Maverick's plane flew between Hangman's and Cassie's planes, forcing them outwards from the aircraft's momentum.

"Alright, you two," Maverick began, "let's see if you can finally work as a team."

"Okay, Birdie," Hangman said, finally coming to his senses, "let's get him."

"Whatever you do, do not let him get — " Cassie watched as Maverick maneuvered his plane so that he was behind and above Hangman's. "— above you. Break left!"

Surprisingly, Hangman heeded Cassie's instructions, "Breaking left."

"Breaking right," Cassie added. "Keep an eye on Mav, Einstein."

"He's coming after you, Hangman," Einstein reported.

"I got something," Cassie proposed, "but it's risky."

"Right now, I'll take whatever you got. He's right on me, Birdie!"

"Birdie, what are you thinking?" Maverick asked, slightly concerned if his daughter considered a move "risky."

Cassie ignored him, "Hangman, you have to be fast."

"Good thing speed isn't one of my concerns," he responded, his cocky tone as apparent as ever.

"Alright then," Cassie agreed, "bring Mav to me."

"Well, I'm trying to get him off of me first —"

"No, Hangman — fly towards me," Cassie clarified.

In the lounge, the other pilots all exchanged glances with one another in intrigue and perhaps a little concern. Rooster, notably, shot up from his seat to stand right next to the radio.

"What are you doing, Birdie?" he asked.

"Fly towards you?" Hangman confirmed.

"Just do it!" Cassie egged on. She could hear Hangman sigh over the radio, which she took as confirmation that he would follow through.

"Coming around now," Hangman reported.

"On our twelve," Einstein chimed in from his seat behind Cassie.

"Okay, Einstein," she started, "try to get a lock on Mav." Cassie decided that they would be better off dividing and conquering, especially since she nearly shat the bed earlier when she let Maverick get into her head. "As soon as you get on him, tell me."

"Got it," he replied. Cassie did two quick inhales before a longer exhale, readying her nervous system for the shock of its life.

She readjusted her grip on the control stick, "Here goes nothing." She increased the speed of the plane, "Hangman, I'm on your twelve." Upon seeing each other's planes in the distance, Cassie increased her speed even more.

"Are you going to tell me when to break right?" Hangman asked.

"Yes, just listen to my cue," Cassie answered. "You said you're fast right?"

"Yeah, but...how fast we talking?" Cassie didn't have time to answer unnecessary questions. They were becoming even closer to one another.

"Birdie, I don't like this," Maverick said from his position trailing Hangman.

"Hold it steady, Hangman," Cassie encouraged. "Talk to me, Einstein. Where are we at?"

"The lock's in range, but until Hangman moves —"

"Just keep it there," Cassie reassured him. She moved her control stick a little further, "We're... almost..." She watched as her speed increased on the ASI, hoping that it would be enough to rattle Maverick's positioning like he had done to her and Hangman earlier. Hangman's plane was so close that Cassie could make out his silhouette inside his canopy. As soon as they passed each other —

"There — break right! Einstein?" Cassie yelled out.

"I lost the lock — !" Shit, Cassie thought to herself, accepting that they had lost their first opportunity to shoot down Maverick. She quickly maneuvered her plane into a snap roll, hoping that the extreme change in air flow between her and Hangman's planes did enough to put Maverick's off-kilter.

"What the — ?" Maverick's plane shuddered as he looked right and upwards at Hangman, then immediately left and downward at Cassie. "You're crafty, I'll give you that." She smirked at Maverick's confusion, but she couldn't relish in it for long. Maverick opted to chase Hangman, and Cassie decided to reorient her plane into the prime chasing position with her nose facing Maverick's tail.

"He's on my tail, Birdie!" Hangman yelled out, ascending further into the clouds.

"Yeah, I see that," Cassie responded. "Einstein, get a lock on Mav." She followed the two of them into the clouds.

"That's a kill," Maverick's voice rang throughout the radio. Cassie felt intoxicated on this rush of adrenaline as she flew further into the sky. Seconds after Maverick's announcement, Cassie's plane resurfaced on top of the clouds. "Einstein —" she began, eager to finally shoot Maverick down,

but he was nowhere to be found.

" — where is he?!" Cassie yelled out. Before she could make another move, the forsaken ringing filled the canopy.

"And that's a kill." Cassie let out a heavy sigh, not bothering to look behind her and see Maverick's face. Instead, he flew beside her plane so that he could look at her through the canopy. Cassie begrudgingly glanced back at him. A small, genuine smirk was on his face, "Not bad, Birdie. Not bad at all." Cassie's pinched facial expression softened slightly at what she believed to be words of affirmation from her dad. Her lips slowly formed a smile, having accomplished what she had set out to do in the first place.

Cassie returned her plane to the tarmac, tearing her helmet off her head once they had landed and the canopy was fully opened. She and Einstein slid down the sides of the plane, met with Hondo who was holding a clipboard.

He glanced up from reading the list, "Birdie and Einstein, you're up for another round. It's the last exercise of the day, and everyone's going twice."

Cassie shrugged, positioning her helmet to pull it back on, "Fine with me." She glanced over her shoulder at Einstein, "You good for another?"

He buckled the chinstrap of his helmet that he had undid moments before, "Let's do it."

"Who's our wingman?" Cassie asked.

Hondo tapped his pen against the wood of the clipboard, "Rooster." Cassie looked towards the end of the tarmac, immediately identifying Rooster's red helmet in his hand. A small smile crept onto her lips.

Once he came within a few feet of her, Cassie asked with an excited grin, "Just like old times, huh?"

Bradley barely reacted, emitting an unenthusiastic, "Mmhm," while he continued walking over to his plane. Cassie furrowed her eyebrows at his odd behavior, but shook it off. She was ready for the training day to be over, even if that meant she would end up performing two-hundred push-ups.

Cassie and Einstein returned to their aircraft, completing their usual ritual to get it into the sky. Hovering next to Bradley, Cassie admitted, "I'm getting a little déjà vu." She glanced through her own canopy towards Bradley under his, "Are you, Rooster?"

He remained quiet in thought before realizing that Cassie had asked him a question, "...not really."

"Okay, what's your problem?" Cassie asked, flustered.

Bradley looked back at her through the glass, "I'm focused on the mission at hand, Birdie, not reliving the glory days."

Cassie scoffed, "Oh, please, those were not the 'glory days' —"

In the lounge, Hangman scoffed while looking at his peers, "Jesus, it's like listening to an old married couple."

"Focus up," Bradley interrupted. "Now where the hell is he?"

"I've been here the whole time," Maverick spoke nonchalantly. Cassie watched in disbelief as his plane inverted from underneath hers and Bradley's, hovering directly above his plane with their canopies facing each other.

"Holy shit —" Einstein began.

"Can you see me now?" Maverick asked mockingly.

Frustrated, Cassie asked, "Einstein, why didn't you see him?" His eyes went wide, having truthfully been too invested in her and Bradley's bickering.

"Uh — sorry, I —"

Cassie shook her head, "Forget it. Rooster —"

"Come on, let's get it over with," Maverick spoke directly to Bradley.

"Wait —" Cassie tried to intervene, but to no avail.

"Fight's on!" Bradley's voice rang throughout the radio, seconds before him and Maverick's plane began descending into a defensive spiral.

Cassie heavily sighed, dropping her plane to keep both of them in her sight, "Why does no one listen to me?" She watched as neither of them wavered, continuing until they were awfully close to the hard deck. "You guys are about to hit the hard deck!" Cassie said into her mic.

"Your strategy is about to run us into the ground," Maverick stated. "What's your move?" Cassie watched with wide eyes as both of their planes continued to barrel towards the ground, now well below five thousand feet.

"Rooster!" She yelled, "Pull up!" Her eyes flitted between the monitor displaying the other planes' altitudes and outside the canopy towards the planes themselves. Once their altitude dropped below one thousand feet, Cassie felt a vein begin to bulge in her forehead, "Rooster —" Her voice was so forceful into the other pilots' headsets that Einstein had winced "— pull up!" Seconds after, Cassie watched as Maverick pulled his plane up, shortly followed by Bradley. Cassie relaxed slightly, leaning all the way back in her seat while her heart was pounding in her chest.

She hovered above the two, speaking once more, "After all that, you better shoot him down."

"It's too low," Bradley responded.

Cassie scoffed, "That's 'too low?' Are you serious — ?"

"Too late. You had your chance," Maverick spoke, quickly maneuvering his plane into the cobra position once again in order to gain position behind Bradley and lock onto his plane. "That's a kill. Knock it off."

"Damn it!" Bradley swore. Cassie simply shook her head, at a loss for words regarding the events that just ensued.

Maverick flew parallel to Bradley, instructing, "Go see Hondo about your push-ups." Cassie and Bradley wordlessly returned their planes to the tarmac, although she left him land first so that he could get a head start on his punishment. Also, Cassie needed to cool off before she yelled at Bradley for that ridiculous display —

She paused.

Is that what I was like? she asked herself, reminiscing her time as a TOPGUN student. Specifically, when she went under the hard deck during the first week of training. That being said, at least she shot down her target — although she would never say that to Bradley's face.

After Cassie and Einstein departed their plane, he went straight for the locker room while Cassie straggled behind. With her helmet tucked under her arm, she slowly walked towards the pair of men across the tarmac: Hondo, whose back was facing her, and Bradley, who was visibly fatigued from the morning's events and struggling to repeatedly push his bodyweight up off the ground.

"Alright, that's enough," Hondo told Bradley once Cassie was within earshot of the two. She stopped beside Hondo, resting her free hand on her hip as she watched Bradley continue his reps. "Rooster. That's enough, man." Bradley, however, did not think that it was enough. Hondo gave Cassie a glance before walking off, leaving her with Bradley. He continued pressing his body up and down until his arms physically gave out and he collapsed down onto his knees, rolling onto his butt in a sitting position.

Cassie took the opportunity to crack a joke, "Breaking the hard deck? Sounds like you took a page out of my book." At a lack of a response from Bradley, the smile from Cassie's face dropped as she squatted next to his sitting figure. She really wanted to be nice, but after her joke fell flat, her residual anger from moments ago resurfaced. "What the hell was that?" She asked. "You almost ran into the ground —"

Bradley scoffed, "You're one to talk." His head whipped around so his eyes locked intently onto hers, which were narrowed. "You almost got yourself killed. You and your wingman."

Cassie shook her head in disbelief, "Are you being serious right now? I was in total control —"

"Do you know what you were?" Bradley asked, interrupting her statement. "Dangerous." Cassie recalled Iceman's warning to her all those years ago. "Reckless. A split-S? A head-on pass? The cobra maneuver — ?!"

"Please, Maverick did the same thing — !"

"You are not Maverick!" Bradley exclaimed, a look of disbelief on his face.

That statement stung Cassie in the chest. Whether he knew it or not, Bradley had struck the precisely right chord to make her go quiet. He was right — and she hated it. Cassie hated to believe that she was that self-absorbed that she would put her peers in danger just to prove something to her father. Although she didn't want to admit it, a part of Bradley was right. Flying was just about the only thing Cassie and Maverick had in common, and since he's a household name around North Island, of course she wanted to impress him.

Even more than that, Cassie wanted Maverick to be proud of her.

Bradley waved his hand around, still with more to say, "You doing all those crazy stunts up there just to impress him...I mean, really? Do you need validation that bad? To put yourself in danger? Your wingman? Your wizzo — ?" Bradley's own throat had betrayed him, his subconscious thoughts about a pilot's dangerous actions putting their wizzo (or RIO) in danger brought up old, scarred-over wounds. He quickly ducked his head towards the ground, slightly embarrassed of the slip up.

Understanding why he was suddenly withdrawn, Cassie's expression softened, "Bradley —"

He waved her off, "Don't worry about it."

She sighed, "Well, if you don't tell me what's wrong, then I can't help you —"

"I never asked for your help!" Cassie froze at Bradley's sudden outburst of emotion. It was more intense than his prior words were about her reckless flying. "I don't need your help, okay?" Bradley averted his eyes back to the ground. Cassie wordlessly shut her mouth that was slightly agape in shock before standing up and wiping the dust off of her thighs. When her boots left from Bradley's eyesight as she began walking back towards the hangar, he instantly felt regret.

He looked at her retreating figure and said aloud, "Birdie..." As she kept walking away, he yelled louder, "Cassie!" After realizing that she wasn't going to turn around, Bradley ran a hand over his face.

He heavily sighed, "Shit."

in case you missed it i published the wrong flashback for the last chapter, so if this flashback looked similar that's because i accidentally already published it oops 🫣 but it happens to the best of us. feel free to go back and reread the new-old (?) flashback if you feel so inclined!

anyway...first look at cassie's mad flying skills 🤭 that's our little kickass naval aviator! even if it came at the cost of the friendliness between her and bradley. you'll come to see through the flashbacks that they're relationship is pretty hot and cold, but i feel like you have to have some kind of ego if you're a naval aviator (coming from someone who has met plenty of midshipmen...)

also in case it isn't obvious i am really delving into the stereotypical Navy Bro character for hangman. as much as we all love glen...hangman was a dick let's be real. but there's always room for improvement!