BRADLEY BRADSHAW was a confident person. He had to be, or he'd have to deal with the pitying looks some people who knew his history gave him. And he didn't want that. Behind his serene eyes, unfortunately, there was a lot of anger and hurt—emotions he hadn't yet learned to deal with.

But maybe the chance he was given was the perfect opportunity to show he wasn't a victim. He'd parked the Bronco right in front of the Hard Deck, set his glasses and Hawaiian shirt in place, as he entered familiar territory.

What he didn't expect was to be practically attacked by a girl who seemed to be trying to run away from the house. Before she fell, he caught her. He cursed at her after not even receiving a thank you, and he practically insulted her.

Worse was Nicky's intrusion upon seeing the movement. He didn't let himself be seen, but her slap had been very painful—who was he kidding, her slaps were always remarkable. And he didn't behave? An answer was stuck in his tongue, only interrupted by the girl from before:

"Navy," she muttered, huffing. "That's so typical of you."

"What is it?" he growled, offended.

She didn't respond, stomping her feet as she brusquely brushed past them and exited. She'd better get out anyway, because the problems they'd create would be hell to deal with. After all, who did that person think she was? She accused him of thinking he was the center of the universe, but it was she who seemed to be in his place.

Besides him, not believing what he'd heard, Nicky grimaced. She shook her head, hissing:

"You say that as if you weren't one of us."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, completely lost.

"Nothing."

Again, he didn't expect the slap on the forehead. He stared at her seriously, his nostrils flaring in anger. Oh, he was ready to curse her and start an argument, but she was quicker:

"Next time, don't act like an idiot," Nicky said. "Even if it's not your fault, apologize."

"Fine," he grumbled, knowing it was useless to argue with her. "But it was her fault.'

Bradley wasn't blind and he wouldn't lie; she was beautiful, one of the most physically charming women he'd ever seen in his life, but that personality... A few words from her blew him away, and at all times, she remained cold as ice. Whoever she was, her ego was worse than the aviators in the Navy.

"Bradshaw," he heard his name being shouted. "Is that really you?"

Recognizing her voice, he flashed a reassuring smile. Without a second thought, Nicky pulled him by the patterned shirt towards Phoenix, who was staring at them by the window.

"That's the only way I know you're in the United States?"

"I thought I'd surprise you," he replied, shrugging.

Phoenix rolled her eyes, leaning over the pool table and positioning herself to make a shot. Meanwhile, he looked around, noticing more Navy uniforms scattered around the bar. He ducked, squirming, as he felt the base of the pool cue hit a spot extremely close to his lowest area. Hell, he hadn't expected that. It was obvious that Phoenix did it on purpose, for whatever reason.

"Did you like my surprise?" she asked, looking as innocent as possible.

"Well done," grumbled Nicky, trying to contain her laughter.

"Good to see you," he hissed, glancing down at her.

"Nice to see you too.

Even in pain, he got to his feet, giving Phoenix a friendly pat on the shoulder and walking past her to where the other pilots were drinking, playing games, and talking. Some of them were already familiar faces, others not so much.

For the first time, Bob would finally make a move. He was in position, calculating the perfect trajectory to hit the other balls, when he felt the pool cue being pulled from his hand. He looked up, not believing what had just happened.

"Bradshaw!" Jake exclaimed, feigning disbelief. "I do not believe that."

"Hangman," he replied, not at all excited. "You look great."

"Yeah, I'm great, Rooster," he agreed, positioning the club and aiming for a perfectly made play. "That's great. In fact, I'm too great to be real."

"Modesty sends her regards, Jake," Nicky hissed, earning a wink from him.

Phoenix rolled her eyes, unable to count herself.

"Well, does anyone know what the special detachment is for?" asked Payback.

"Mission is mission," Hangman decreed. "The reason doesn't matter. What I want to know is who is going to be the leader. And which one of you has what it takes to follow me?"

"Hangman, you just led someone to the grave," Rooster said.

The silence then didn't last long. Giggles were heard at Rooster's teasing words. The rivalry between him and Hangman was nothing new; it had always been that way. It didn't matter if they were adults, when together they looked like twelve-year-olds.

Of course, he wouldn't be silent after that. Hangman lowered the pool cue, passing Phoenix and positioning himself fully in front of Rooster, a wry, sinister smile on his lips as he said:

"Yeah, but whoever follows you will run out of fuel," he teased. "But it's your style, isn't it, Rooster? You sit there, perched, waiting for that exact moment that never comes."

As much as there was a smile on their lips, it wasn't from happiness. Rooster was imagining ninety different ways to throttle Hangman, to take him off the show, to render him unable to fly for the rest of his life.

"I love this song," he said, maintaining eye contact.

"You're not going to kiss soon, are you?" Nicky asked, losing patience.

"I'd rather kiss you, ballerina," Hangman replied, glaring at her.

Hangman practically fled, passing them all, heading in the opposite direction of the bar. Rooster bit his tongue, not letting on that he always managed to bring out the worst in himself.

"Yeah, he hasn't changed at all," sighed Phoenix.

"Not really," Rooster agreed. "Nothing."

Phoenix saw him walk away from the pool table, probably going to get himself a drink. After all, no one could stand hanging with Hangman being sober. In the meantime, they saw the bar's door open, and more people dressed like them entered.

"Look at this," said Fanboy.

"Harvard. Yale. Omaha," Payback acknowledged. "Damn, even Fritz."

"What kind of mission is this?" he exclaimed, not understanding.

"That's not the question you should be asking," Phoenix said, denying it. "Everyone here is the best. So, who is going to teach us?"

"There's always something new to learn," Nicky commented. "Even if you're the best."

◈

MAVERICK was having a bad day. First going back to Top Gun, then owing everyone a round of beer, then having a big problem called Damiana, as well as trying to hide miserably when seeing Bradley Bradshaw walk through the door. And now his card is being declined?

"Don't joke," he pleaded with Penny.

Suddenly, the music it was playing was cut off. Dejected howls were heard, but then the faint sound of musical notes from a tuned piano began to be heard. But Maverick was busy counting bills he'd found in the pockets of his pants and jacket.

"What about —?"

"That won't cover it," she pleaded, handing him the check.

Maverick snatched the receipt from Penny's delicate hand, widening his eyes at the absurd and extremely high amount written on the total. He was speechless for a few seconds, but she was smiling sweetly at him.

"I'll come tomorrow to pay cash," he promised.

"Rules are rules, Pete."

She didn't give him time to respond. Penny reached for her beloved bell, swinging its string, a sound loud, in tune, and all too familiar. Maverick was desperate, thinking about kneeling right there and begging her to give him a second to work this out.

"Really?" he asked Penny in disbelief.

Hangman and Coyote, who were closest, approached the bar, staring at Penny as if asking for permission. With a cruel, amused smile, she signaled to them, giving their permission.

With more help, they each grabbed Maverick under the arms as Payback lifted him by the legs, all of them quickly running out of the bar to the screams of people. Maverick just felt the impact of his body hitting the sand as they threw him all the way out.

"Thanks for the beers," Hangman shouted, laughing with the others. "Come back whenever you want."

Inside, the screaming continued, but not for Maverick—it was for Rooster. Sitting at the piano, with his friends and colleagues around, they would take the floor, playing and singing Great Balls On Fire, just like his father did when he was younger.

The atmosphere was happy and welcoming; everyone was happy, drinking, and letting loose with the music. Even with Hangman's taunts, he managed to temporarily hide his anger, letting himself appear relaxed and unshakable.

Then, there, in the Hard Deck, playing the piano professionally and singing at the top of his lungs, the pain he felt passed as if he had never been there. Rooster finally felt that he had come home.

━━━━━━

8.06.2022

N O T E S

In the next chapter, the real action begins! But what did you think of the chapter we just read? High hopes for Dami and Rooster?

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