Your sister Ridley has passed away, leaving behind her ten-year-old daughter, Sadie. The Dagger Squad goes out of its way to ensure you and Sadie have people you can count on. Boring Saturday nights turned into game nights, rowdy dinners, and cheeri...
Chapter Warnings: +18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mention of an original child character, kissing scenes, angst, fluff, deployments, apologies, a small talk about grief, and mentions of shitty family dynamics.
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"Attention on Deck!"
Jake and Bradley stood in sync in the empty hanger, the sound of metal chairs scraping across the hard stone floor. Much like the day they were called in for the Uranium run, the space had been turned into a mock classroom. Only two desks sat before the podium this time, and Jake and Bradley were the only ones who had been requested to report.
Jake kept his eyes forward as two pairs of footsteps echoed off the hangar floor behind him. Cyclone appeared in the corner of his eye, the man holding two manila envelopes and a thick black binder. He wondered what awaited him or Rooster in those files. While Maverick had torn them apart for the dramatic display, he wouldn't be surprised if Cyclone suddenly decided that wasn't enough.
But Jake could only think it made sense the patterns and exercises they had been flying for the past week were in preparation for something greater.
At least, he hoped they weren't getting kicked out.
But as Cyclone each tossed a folder in front of him and Bradley, Maverick trailing close behind indicated it had to be something worse. Even with his eyes facing forward, Jake could catch the look on the Captain's face out of the corner of his eye.
Worried and apprehensive.
Jake had an answer to his question. It wasn't a reprimand from his and Bradley's dangerous flying from the week previous.
This was a special deployment.
Cyclone stepped up onto the podium, not once lifting his eyes as he dropped the binder down to the wooden surface, stating, "You may be seated."
Jake and Bradley did as they were told, instantly reaching for the papers in front of them.
"Good afternoon." Cyclone finally looked up and nodded to the pair.
"Intelligence has gotten word of another illegal facility violating United Nation's Peace Treaty accords. The flight tests you and your team have been flying these past weeks were a simulation of the area we expect to the best of our intelligence."
Most of what Cyclone was saying flew over Jake's head. Not after Cyclone explained the stakes. Not after Jake started to read the mission report. Next-generation fighter jets. In enemy hands. And they wanted an air assist while they went after the factory responsible for making them.
Even if he believed he was the best, there was too much at stake for him to say he could make it out of there unscathed confidently.
This was the literal fucking definition of a suicide run.
Rooster suddenly pipped up from beside him as Cyclone paused. "Has the rest of the Squad been briefed, sir?"
Cyclone started him down, his face emotionless. "You misunderstand me, son."
