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two. top gun, fightertown, usa.
"You are here because you are within the top one percent of all naval aviators," Mike Metcalf—otherwise known as Viper began, standing at the front of the classroom, hands resting on each side of the podium. His words ignited the fire that had been diminishing within Cassandra Wei—the proud smirk crosses her face. The classroom, packed tightly with eighteen men and two women—nine flight crews. "This happens to be the first year that an all women flight crew has joined us," Viper gestured to Tara and Cassie. "I expect you to treat them as your equals, gentlemen."
"You're the elite, the best of the best. We're gonna make you better—because your jobs are damn important," said Viper, staring down his new recruits. Cassie surveys from the back, eyes scaling over her competition. A few rows ahead of her sat Goose and Maverick—the latter staring down someone to her left. Tom Kazansky—arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched as he sizes everyone up. His eyes meet Maverick's, a cold grin forming on his face, teeth on display. Maverick smiles back, almost just as coldly.
"You'll be moving every minute here," explained Viper. "At least two combat missions a day, attending classes and evaluations of your performances in between." Tara nudges Cassandra's shoulder, nodding to one of the other crews to her right, two men who were staring them down. Cassie exchanges a quick glance to Tara before grinning in the men's direction, no trace of warmth within in. "In each sequence you'll face a different combat challenge. Every combat session will get more difficult. We'll teach you to fly right to the edge of the envelope. Faster than you've ever flown. And...more dangerous."
This grabs the attention of most of the aviators in the room, eager smiles crossing their expressions—a room full of people who find the adrenaline and exhilaration of flying more intoxicating than anything. Cassandra smiles, prodding her chin with the pen in her hand, feeling Tara shake her arm with giddy excitement.
"In case any of you ladies and gentlemen think this training is not current, on August nineteenth, nineteen-eighty-one at one-twenty AM above the Gulf of Sidra, two Libyan SU 22 fighters attacked. Naval aviators met them and downed them. The battle lasted for a fraction of sixty seconds. The manuevers that downed those attackers were learned from sitting here in these chairs. Both Naval pilots were Top Gun graduates," Viper explained, before exhaling. "We are not at war today, but we must always act like we are at war. We are at the tip of the spear. We had best be sharp."
