Katrina "Sidewinder" Mojave
"Mojave..." a familiar voice called though the dream around me, continued. Scarlet splattered the sky bathing the clouds in an unnatural light. My Raptor sat poised on the runway, waiting for its pilot to return.
Pressured winds swirled around my face as I continued towards my plane. Young and Duke were already loaded up and were taking off, climbing higher and higher into the bloody skies. I sighed and climbed the stairs, barely putting my feet in the cockpit when a small white contrail tore across the sky. I watched it with a mild interest, not realizing what it was.
"Mojave!" the voice shouted a bit louder. I furrowed my brow, looking around in the dream but no one was close by. Looking back to the sky, my eyes widened and my breath caught in my throat. The single white trail had broken into multiple snakes of white.
"MOJAVE!" I jolted awake, eyes flicking about sharply as air flooded my lungs. Young was leaning next to me, his gaze watching while I calmed down. A tired but cheery grin stitched his lips, warming his dirty and bloodied face.
"Young," I breathed allowing my heartrate to slow. Two battles into this war I was already jumpy as wild rabbit. Pull it together you idiot, I chastised myself. You're the god damn squadron leader, that means you hold it together even if your broken on the inside. Smirking happily, I punched his shoulder hard. He growled a bit and rubbed his shoulder.
"What was that for?" he asked, faking a whine. I cocked my head a bit and placed my hands on my hips, a dangerous glint in my eyes.
"For getting shot down." He opened his mouth to protest but didn't utter a word as I hugged him tightly. Young froze, confused and unsure what to do. Pulling away, I patted his shoulder, biting back any more of my stupid emotions.
"Thats for making back alive you bastard." I laughed and Young raised his eyebrows, obviously he didn't know how I acted when fatigue struck.
"Listen Mojave," Young finally said, smiling again. "Duke and I are taking some shots, you in? Loser Pays." He crossed his arms and waited while I pondered the proposition. I need to unwind, just relax. After all, I haven't really gotten to know Young all that well...
"Alright! I'm in but I can take my alcohol better than most of the pilots back at our home base. Where's Duke at?" Young gestured towards Hanger nine, following at my side as I slowly walked there.
"I know Grey but that's not the point!" Duke shouted back into his radio.
"It's always been the point..." the voice on the radio, who I assumed was Grey, sighed. "Fine, but you owe me big time for this!" Duke muttered something under his breath as I tapped his shoulder. Spinning on his heels, a sheepish look lit upon his features. My blue eyes glared into his, a silent scolding and whisper of forgiveness exchanged between us. Jets from other squadrons roared while helicopter rotors rumbled around us, washing away the silence.
"So Duke, you challenging me and Young to shots?" I asked incredulously. Grinning smugly, he nodded. I shrugged.
"Just don't whine when I win," I replied.
"What makes you so sure of that Mojave?" Young asked, as if he had already won.
"My bite is worse that my bark Young," I shot back, taunting him. "Besides, Duke, Young still doesn't have his callsign. I think it's time he's been christened. This prompted Duke to look towards Young, who looked wide-eyed at both of us. Tonight was gonna be fun, just a few hours to forget the war that's leering in our faces.