"My callsign is Crow."
I pulled the black and blue helmet over my head, flipping the tinted visor up. I pulled on the buckles, strapping together two around my arms, then clipped them together across my chest. Next were two across my thighs, and then a final strap across my waist.
"The crow represents many things. Death, mystery, adaption. Adaption is my favorite."
My eyes scanned down to the right console, flipping the two generator switches, and then the battery switch. I then looked over to the left console, quickly finding the APU switch and flicked it up. Once the green indicator light came on next to it, I finally flipped the engine switch.
"As a female Naval Aviator Pilot, or as I prefer a fighter pilot, I've had to adapt, a lot. It wasn't easy, and even though I'm now one of the best there is, it's still not easy."
I loved the deafening sound of the engines. They drowned out everything else, and it was like I was sucked out of reality. Like it was just me in the plane. Though, much like my callsign, starting up the engines normally met death was near.
"In order to survive, I had to adapt, just like the crow. Such a hated bird. They're scavengers, picking off of whatever they can find. That's what I had to do, force my way into every opening, scavenge anything I could."
I pulled my mask down from where it hung, and clipped it onto my helmet. I flipped yet another switch, turning the communication system on, and scrolled a dial to a certain channel. "This is Hornet 1-75 requesting for takeoff," I spoke into the mask, flipping a few switches above me, making sure all the proper lights were on.
"Crows are also known for their aggressive personality, which I guess I got associated with. I prefer strong-willed, but call it what you want."
"Hornet 1-75, state your position," a female voice spoke back, her voice being muffled a bit with static. In my profession, though, it's something you get used to, and often times doesn't even recognize it. "Runway three," I responded, sitting back in the seat.
"Crows are misunderstood creatures. People see only what they want. They don't see beyond the feathers. They see what they hear, that crows are bad luck."
"You have clearance for takeoff," the same voice replied after a few moments. I smiled to myself and gently pushed the throttle, the jet hurtling into motion. I pulled out of line with the others and to the beginning of runway three. I flipped a few more switches, and took a deep breath. I pushed the throttle forward, being shoved back into my seat by the sudden force. The engines blared as the jet was thrown down the runway. Then, I pulled back, the wheels lifting off of the ground. And then I was in the air. I was free.
"I guess that's why they call me Crow. Because they only see what they hear."
-🔥-
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smile | bradley bradshaw
Fanfiction-DISCONTINUED- ❝They called for the best, and here I am.❞ IN WHICH the best of the best are called back to the famous Navy Fighter Weapons School, otherwise known as TOPGUN. ❝I'm a bad omen, didn't you hear?❞ MADELEINE "CROW" MILLER was one of the t...
