Cowboy Casanova

6

We sat in a dark room, watching a video of Vietnam. F4s, MiG 17s. Jets swoop, missiles fire, a plane explodes. Gun camera views of MiGs, SAMS, flak, bombing runs. "During the Korean War, the Navy kill ratio was twelve-to-one. We shot down twelve of their jets for every one of ours. In Vietnam, this ratio fell to three-to-one. Our pilots depended on missiles. When they went into the war, they had lost some of their dogfighting skills. Top Gun was created to teach ACM. Air Combat Maneuvering. Dogfighting. Richthofen, Rickenbacker, Galland, Rudel, Bong would envy us. We do just what they did, but we do it past the speed of sound." One of the men in charge tells us as we watch the video. He looks towards the back. "Lights, please." The lights turn on and I blink the brightness away. "Now I'd like to introduce our Commanding Officer at Top Gun. He is a MiG killer six times over. He was the first man to win the Top Gun trophy. You will not find a better fighter pilot in the world. His name is Mike Metcalf. Call sign: Viper." Viper walks slowly to the front. He speaks carefully and quietly.

"Gentlemen, and ladies. You're here because you are the top one percent of all naval aviators." I look around the class. Sixteen men. Two women (me and Phoenix). "You're the elite, the best of the best. We're gonna make you better, because your job is damned important. You'll be moving every minute here. Flying at least two combat missions a day, attending classes and evaluations of your performance in between." I see Hangman on the other side of the room staring at me with those devilish green eyes. "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." I can feel the stare of some of the men in the room, but I try to ignore it. "We are not at war today. But we must always act like we're at war. We are the tip of the spear. We had best be sharp." I look around the room, analyzing the other pilots here.

"What are you doing?" Bradley asked me, whispering so that we wouldn't get caught.

"Just figuring out who the best is." I shrug.

"And, if you want to know who the best is, we've got a plaque on the wall with the best driver from each class. You think maybe your name's gonna be on it?" My dad's name wasn't there. After what happened with Uncle Nick, he had a hard time getting back in a jet. I understood that more than anyone. Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky was the name on the plaque that year. Luckily for me, he also taught me how to fly. Hell, he was my godfather.

"Yes, sir." Both me and Hangman speak up. I glare at him from across the room. A couple of oohh's and aahh's are heard in the room.

"That's a pretty arrogant attitude... considering the company you're in." I nodded.

"I know, sir. But I'll be damned if I'm not the first Mitchell up there, sir." I could feel his disappointment from a mile away.

"Maverick's daughter. Great." I heard him mumble. I smirked. "I like that in a fighter pilot." There's a few laughs from across the room. "You have to think you're King Kong to want to try to land on carriers. Just keep in mind, when the battle out there is over, we're all on the same team." Viper gathers his notes, the lecture is over. Viper turns back for one more thought. Everyone freezes. "This school is about combat. Remember, there are no points for second place. Dismissed." I look back at Hangman.

"I don't plan on being second." I say, loud enough for Hangman to hear.

𐑺

After our first day, we all headed back to the Hard Deck. I wore a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt, not having anyone to impress but the humidity was killing me. I wasn't a huge fan of San Diego so far. The Hard Deck was packed tonight. There was no special occasion or event, just another Friday night. All of the Top Gun students were there. Coyote and Hangman were playing Payback and Fanboy in a game of pool. Yale and Harvard were throwing darts. At the bar, I was ordering from Penny when a hand was placed on my lower back. "Figured it out yet?" The texan voice asked me. I refused to look at him, scared to melt.

"What's that?"

"Who the best pilot is." I thanked Penny for the beer, turning to the arrogant pilot. My eyebrow quirks as I come face to face with the blond man leaning over the bar with a commercial-worthy smile. My eyes rake over him slowly and he smirks as I blatantly check him out. I didn't need to boost his ego anymore, but it was hard not to look at him. I'd be lying if I said the man isn't hot. "Like what you see, darlin'?" He swirls a toothpick in his mouth. I scoff and cross my arms with a bored expression.

"Hardly. And don't call me 'darlin'." I frowned at the nickname. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it, but I thought of how many other women he had called that and the feeling vanished.

"What do you want me to call you? You haven't exactly told me your name." I shrugged, taking a sip of my beer.

"What's it to you?" He smirked, moving close again.

"I just want to know the name of the pretty woman I haven't been able to stop thinking about." I scoffed at the line.

"My name is Nicole. Call sign Banshee." I pat his shoulder as I walked away, turning back to look at him. "Just so you'll know whose name will be on that plaque." He leans against the bar, smirking as I walk back to Nat and Bradley. I sip my beer. Bradley has his arm over her shoulders, smiling at her.

"Hangman giving you trouble?" She asks but I just shrug as I look back over at him. He orders a drink from Penny and when he sees me staring, he sends me a wink.

"Nothing I can't handle. He's just a man. A really annoying man." I take another sip, looking back at him. A really annoyingly attractive pilot. Arrogant. Cocky. Selfish. I made sure to repeat those words in my head, so I wouldn't find him attractive. He had somehow mastered the art of being able to get under my skin.

"Play it cool. If he knows he's getting under your skin, he'll just keep doing the same. I think it turns him on." Nat tells me with a shrug. As if that was so easy. I laughed, louder than I wanted to, making Hangman look our direction. Phoenix had somehow managed to never let Hangman work her up. I almost wish I had known him before Top Gun, like she had. I think it would've been easier to hate him. Or maybe it would've been harder... for other reasons. I had heard about Jake 'Hangman' Seresin from most of the other Top Gun students. Not many had great things to say. The general warning was to stay away. I was quick to understand why. Jake thought that the world revolved around Jake and Jake only. A woman with blonde hair and a dress tight and short walked up to our table. She was smiling as she leaned on the table.

"I couldn't help but see you talking to that guy over there." I looked to where she was pointing, seeing Hangman with Coyote, playing a game of pool. "Are you two together?" I chuckled.

"No, definitely not." I saw her smile rise as she straightened out her dress. "Word of warning though. Don't even think about it. Trust me, you don't want to go there." She looked back at him and we both knew that it wasn't enough. I wasn't even sure if I was warning her or warning myself. "He's got a small dick." I told her. Bradley and Nat held their laughter, trying not to crack. Her smile fell and she walked away, looking for someone else to sleep with. I smirked, Nat and Bradley breaking out into fits of laughter as I drank the last of my beer.