ꔛ 𓈒 *🌊🖇˚ ᦃ ･ ﹆ ˚🛩️ ◞˚ₓ 🫀⁕˚彡

S I X :
'but don't look back in anger'
── don't look back in anger : oasis
𝟶:𝟶𝟶 ──◍───── 𝟷:𝟹𝟶

❝ so sally can wait
she knows it's too late as she's walking on by
my soul slides away
'but don't look back in anger, don't look back in anger.'
i heard you say, 'at least not today'. ❞

〖 🌊 ੈ✩‧₊🛩️ 〗

°。°。°。°。°。°。

Warlock stood at the front, posture stiff, voice steady, as though he were addressing something far less dangerous than a covert, high-risk airstrike. But the gravity in his tone told another story.

"Good morning," he said, addressing the gathered pilots. Alexa was perched next to Gretzky, her foot tapping softly against the floor as she tried to keep her pulse steady. "The uranium enrichment plant that is your target will be operational earlier than expected. Raw uranium will be delivered to the plant in ten days." He let his words settle over the group, the weight of them thickening the air. "As a result, your mission has been moved up one week to avoid contaminating the target valley with radiation."

The murmurs in the room grew louder, voices buzzing with disbelief. Alexa cast a quick glance at Gretzky, her own worry mirrored in his eyes.

"Sir, no one here has successfully flown a low-level course," came a protest from the back. The voice cut through the tension, like a match sparking in the dark.

Warlock didn't flinch. "Nevertheless, you've been ordered to move on," he replied, then turned to Maverick. "Captain."

Maverick stepped forward, his eyes steely, shoulders square. "We have one week left to focus on phase two," he announced, his tone unyielding, gaze sweeping over the pilots before settling briefly on Alexa. "It's the hardest part of the mission—a pop-up strike with a steep dive. To make it out alive, we'll need nothing less than two consecutive miracles."

Alexa's heart thudded in her chest. Maverick continued, his voice calm but razor-sharp, breaking down each step of the mission. "Two pairs of F-18s will fly in a welded wing formation. Teamwork. Precise coordination is essential—not just for success, but survival."

Maverick let his words sink in, then turned back to the display. "The plant is nestled between two mountains. On final approach, you'll invert directly into a steep dive. This maneuver will maintain the lowest possible altitude while giving us the only viable attack angle."

The screen flickered, highlighting the drop. Alexa felt a jolt of unease as Maverick spoke. "Your target is an impact point less than three meters wide. The two-seat aircraft will mark it with a laser bullseye. The first pair will drop a laser-guided bomb, breaching the reactor by hitting an exposed ventilation hatch. That's miracle number one."

Nervous chuckles rippled through the room. Alexa shifted, catching a flicker of a grin from Gretzky. She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"The second team," Maverick pressed on, "delivers the kill shot—destroying the target." His eyes met theirs again, holding the room in a tense silence. "That's miracle number two."

He paused, letting the intensity settle into each of them. Alexa tightened her grip on the chair's armrest, her thoughts racing.

"If either team misses the target," Maverick's voice was steady, "the mission fails. Plain and simple."

The gravity of his words pressed down on the room. Alexa could feel Gretzky stiffen beside her, both of them leaning forward, as if drawn into the urgency by some magnetic pull.

Then came the final hit. "Egress will be a steep high-G climb to avoid colliding with the mountain. At that speed, you'll be pulling eight Gs—possibly nine. The F-18's stress limit is 7.5. To survive, you'll pull beyond that, even if it means bending your airframe."

A gasp caught in her throat. Maverick wasn't done.

"You'll weigh close to 2,000 pounds. Your skull crushing your spine. Your lungs compressing under the weight. And this is where you'll be most vulnerable."

Alexa felt her palms grow clammy, the crushing silence filling the room as Maverick described what awaited them in that "coffin corner."

"Sir," came another voice, full of apprehension, "is this even achievable?"

Maverick's reply was blunt. "The answer comes down to the pilot in the box."

The stillness was shattered by the boom of an F-18 overhead. Everyone moved to the simulation room, tension electrifying the air. Alexa's heart pounded as they watched the simulated mission unfold.

"Talk to me, Bob," Maverick's voice crackled through the intercom. "We're 12 seconds late on target. We gotta move!"

Alexa and Gretzky's eyes stayed glued to the screen, breaths held as if they were in the cockpit themselves. "Come on, Blue Team," Alexa murmured, her grip tightening.

Suddenly, the radar lit up with a warning. "It's Maverick!" someone shouted, stunned. "What the hell is he doing here?"

It hit Alexa like a punch to the gut. Maverick was testing them, pushing their limits, forcing them to confront the terror waiting for them.

The simulation wore on, and Alexa could hardly breathe, watching as each second ratcheted up the tension.

Then, chaos erupted. "Bird strike! Bird strike!"

Phoenix's voice shot through the room like a bolt. Alexa froze as alarms blared, flames flickering on the monitor as the engine burned out.

"Phoenix, it's on fire," Bob warned, his voice tense but steady.

"Don't start... throttling up," Phoenix muttered, her grip tightening on the controls, trying to keep her focus despite the creeping panic.

"Oh, my god," Bob gasped, watching as flames licked at the edge of the right engine.

Phoenix's voice cut through the static, rising with urgency, "We're on fire! We're on fire! Damn it!"

An automated voice chimed in with cold, relentless precision, "Engine fire. Right. Extinguishing right engine."

From his own position, Maverick's voice crackled over the comms, sharp with alarm. "Phoenix, Bob, punch out, punch out!"

The warning lights on the dashboard blared in sync with the desperate hammering of Phoenix's heart. "Hydraulic failure!" she yelled, battling to keep her hold on the controls. "Flight controls. I can't control it."

Bob's voice broke through the chaos, laced with dread. "We're going down, Phoenix! We're going in! We're going in!"

Maverick, urgent and forceful, shouted, "You can't save it. Eject, eject!"

Phoenix's fingers fumbled over the ejection handle. "Eject, eject, eject!" Maverick echoed, his voice steadying as he pushed them to act.

The automated voice chimed again, relentless, a final warning: "Altitude. Altitude."

. . . . . ╰──╮~ 🛩️ ~╭──╯ . . . . .

The room fell silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. Bradley sat with his arms crossed, his gaze distant. Across from him, Maverick leaned against the wall, his posture tense but controlled. Alexa sat beside him, arms folded across her chest, looking between the two men with a mixture of concern and frustration.

"They'll keep Phoenix and Bob overnight for observation," Maverick said, his voice steady, but with a hint of exhaustion. "They're going to be okay."

Bradley nodded, his jaw clenched. "That's good." His eyes darted to the floor, then back up to Maverick. "I've never lost a wingman."

Maverick let out a breath, eyes hardening just slightly. "You're lucky. Fly long enough, it'll happen. There will be others."

Bradley's anger bubbled to the surface, and he leaned forward. "Easy for you to say," he shot back, voice laced with bitterness. "No wife. No one to mourn you when you burn in."

Alexa shifted uncomfortably, her eyes briefly meeting Bradley's. She could feel the tension in the air, like it was pressing down on them all. "Can you both just stop?" she muttered under her breath, hoping they'd hear, but neither of them flinched.

Maverick didn't break his stare. "Go home, Bradley. Get some sleep," he said, his tone as firm as ever.

Bradley didn't seem to hear. "Why'd you pull my papers at the academy?" he demanded, his voice rising in frustration. "Why did you stand in my way?"

Maverick's response came quick and unyielding. "You weren't ready."

Bradley's eyes shot up, anger flashing in his gaze. "Ready for what? To fly like you? No."

Maverick stood his ground, his voice unshaken. "Ready to forget the book. Trust your instincts. Don't think, just do. You think up there, you're dead."

"My dad believed in you," Bradley snapped. "I'm not gonna make the same mistake."

Alexa let out a soft sigh, a frown pulling at her lips. She glanced at Bradley, then Maverick, both of them locked in their own battle, oblivious to the tension they were creating. She shifted again in her seat, her voice rising just enough to be heard. "Can you two just drop it already?"

Neither man acknowledged her. Instead, the weight of the silence grew even heavier.

The door suddenly swung open, breaking the tension. Warlock stepped into the room. "Maverick," he said, his voice cutting through the standoff.

. . . . . ╰──╮~ 🛩️ ~╭──╯ . . . . .

Alexa sat alone on the beach, the waves crashing softly in front of her as the setting sun bathed the sky in shades of purple and gold. The salty wind ruffled her hair, but it didn't bring the comfort she hoped it would. The absence of her uncle, Iceman, hung heavily in the air, weighing her down like the sand that clung to her skin.

Her thoughts drifted back to the memories of their time together, each one more painful than the last. She remembered when she was little, waiting for him to come home from one of his long missions. Her excitement would build as the sound of the jet engines echoed in the distance. She'd run to the tarmac with a huge grin, knowing her uncle would be there. He'd always make her laugh, calling her "kid" and lifting her up into his arms with that warmth that made her feel safe.

There was the day he took her to the hangar when she was just a teenager, showing her his jet and giving her a tour of everything. "This is where the magic happens," he'd said, his eyes twinkling with pride. Alexa had never felt more in awe of him in that moment, standing there next to a legend. He was always so composed, so confident, but he'd made sure to tell her the one thing she needed to hear: "Don't ever be afraid to take risks, but remember—there's a time to fight, and a time to let go."

She let the memory play in her mind like a movie, but it only made the hole in her chest grow bigger. The late-night conversations, the times he would show up unannounced just to check in on her, the times they had shared a drink and talked about their lives. It was hard to believe that he was truly gone, that she wouldn't get another chance to hear his voice or feel the warmth of his presence.

Another memory flashed before her eyes: she was 18, and Iceman had just come back from a tough mission. She had been worried about him, but he brushed it off like it was nothing. "It's all part of the job," he'd said with that signature smirk. "But you, kid, you're going to do great things. I know it." She never thought that was the last time she'd hear him say those words to her.

Now, there was nothing but silence, the waves crashing against the shore the only sound filling the void. She stared out at the horizon, feeling like she was drifting with the ocean, the sun slowly sinking beneath the waves.

"Iceman," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I miss you."

The tears that had been threatening to spill now ran freely down her cheeks. It didn't matter how much time passed—some wounds were too deep to heal. As the last sliver of sunlight disappeared, Alexa sat there, letting the quiet comfort of the night wash over her, remembering all the good times, all the lessons, all the love that had shaped her into who she was today. She wasn't sure what came next, but she knew her uncle's legacy, his memory, would always be a part of her. And that, at least, was something to hold on to.

🛩️🛩️🛩️

AUTHORS NOTE !

hey guys,

so, yeah, ice is gone, and i'm really sad about it. this chapter's gonna be super short because i didn't want to include his funeral here. i'm saving that for its own chapter because it feels like it deserves its own chapter.

anyway, thanks for being patient.