stranger • robert "bob" floyd

03

"Attention on deck!"

The pilots stood from their seats, eyes veering to watch the incoming admirals, chairs scraping against the concrete beneath them. Dane followed suit behind his two superiors, a simple pen and notepad in his hand. He stopped alongside Cyclone, allowing Warlock to make his way to the podium in front of the hangar.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cyclone give Hondo an assessing once over before facing the other admiral.

"Morning," Warlock greeted the classroom. "Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated."

The group immediately sat down. Hangman's head turned to look at Church, raising his brows in question, which the latter chose not to acknowledge.

"I'm Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander." Warlock began while Church's eyes glanced around the room, attempting to gauge the personality of each individual.
"You're all Top Gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best."

He noticed Hangman cockily pop a toothpick in between his teeth, while Payback smiled. The entire class seemed to have had some varying form of confident reaction in reply to the flattery Bates was subjecting them to. All but Bob, he realized. Bob's smile was sheepish, almost willing everyone to look away. Dane made sure to keep that in mind, filing it away for later.

"That was yesterday." Warlock reminded harshly. "The enemy's new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage." He supplied, eyes darting in an attempt to make eye contact with each student.
"Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box."

Church watched Hangman eye Phoenix with a sly grin, one that the woman wasn't willing to allow, as she subtly gave a crude hand signal directed his way. The commander decided to make note of discussing Hangman's self-serving tendencies with Maverick.

"Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve." Bates explained quickly, while Hangman looked to Rooster with yet another smile on his face. Dane narrowed his eyes at the two, unsure of the nature of their relationship and why they seemed at each other's throats at every waking moment.

"Your instructors are both Top Gun graduates, the lead instructor having real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master." Bates explained while Maverick made his way down the aisle between each row of desks.
"His exploits are legendary. And he's considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced."

Hangman turned to see the incoming instructor before immediately slumping into his seat, running an embarrassed hand down his face. His eyes flashed to meet Dane's with a humiliated glare.

"What these men have to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death. I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick." Bates introduced the nearing figure before gesturing to Church.
"Your assisting instructor, Commander Dane Cyrus. Call sign: Church. His missions have produced near perfect outcomes and he holds invaluable knowledge that you can all learn from." Warlock voiced, before stepping down from the podium, making way for the two.

The captain walked to stand behind the podium as Dane moved to stay in a less scrutinizing spotlight, just beside him.

"Good morning," Maverick smiled. Church noticed a few sheepish smiles from the group of students, and a betrayed glare from Rooster.

Maverick's smile dropped slightly, moving on to lift a manual up with his left hand.
"The F-18 NATOPS." He explained, patting the cover gently.
"It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I'm assuming you know the book inside and out." He challenged, eyeing the group.