Three Strikes [✓]

The Siren's Call

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Siren's Call

|...|...|...|

New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.

August 9th, 2019.

2100hrs.

|...|...|...|

Pixy sighed as he took a seat on his bed, having finally found his cellphone. It wasn't too late to be calling, he decided. They didn't eat until five in Osean time, and it was only three so Emma probably wasn't too busy. He scrolled through his contacts before pressing the call button. The trilling sound that told Pixy that the phone was ringing lasted barely three seconds before someone picked up. Emma must have been waiting for him to call for some time, considering how she sounded when she picked up. Quickly, and perhaps mildly irritated, she said, "Finally! It's about time you called! Do you have any idea how long it's been? Days! And Cipher's been asking when you plan on calling every hour since then. I'm about ready to kill him."

He sighed, smiling slightly and shaking his head. At that moment, he was pretty sure that he heard an indignant 'Hey!' come from Cipher in another room. That told Pixy that everyone was still together for the time being. Once the summer was over, though, everyone would probably split up. There hadn't been another attack in Osea, so it was probably alright if everyone went their separate ways for the rest of the year. Pixy did appreciate his friend keeping an eye on his family until he returned, though. "Sorry, Em," he said to her. "Things have been pretty hectic these last few days. And I couldn't find my phone."

"That's because you don't know how to properly pack a bag," Emma said drolly. He could just imagine her standing there, likely with some sort of smirk on her face. Pixy opened his mouth to protest, wanting to insist that he did know how to pack, but his wife knew him well enough to know this and quickly added, "Rolling them up into a ball and throwing them inside with absolutely no order simply because you're in a rush is not packing, Larry. You have to plan these things out, and pack at least several days before you head out not on the morning you'll be traveling. We went over this thirty years ago and on the morning we flew to Aurick. I honestly figured you'd have learned this by now."

"Your way is too difficult. Mine saves time," Pixy said with a shrug, surprisingly relieved by the conversation. All of the stress of the last week weighed heavy on him still, but at least things were mostly okay back at home. Everyone could stop worrying, including him.

"Uh-huh. I'm sure it does." There was a pause before Emma's tone became softer and she asked, "So, how's Naomi doing? Didn't you say that they were transferring her out of that penal unit?"

Pixy hesitated. He'd been hoping to stay off the topic of their daughter for a little longer, but he knew that she'd inevitably come up. After all, she'd caused quite a stir in their family. For a while, her sister wasn't entirely convinced that she hadn't actually killed Harling. She was easily the most aggressive out of the three of them. And it seemed that she had only gotten worse after being locked up. So how could he explain this to everyone at home? He took a deep breath and began to explain everything as well as he could.

He went over Naomi's outburst, her anger towards them all (specifically him), everything about her commander and as much as he knew about the 444th, and about how she now sported a new haircut (Pixy wasn't really upset about that, although he was used to her hair being longer). Then he explained how she knew most of the story and their reasoning behind hiding her heritage. Emma listened intently, interjecting a few questions mostly to ask how she handled their revelation. She had handled it surprisingly well. Then he told her about how, earlier that day, she'd asked him if she could experiment with painting the wing of her own, new plane red. She showed him a sketch she'd come up with for the idea, and how it was noticeable but not as pronounced as his. How it faded into the gray halfway up the wing. Pixy had agreed, but only after hearing that she had done something to actually earn it. Apparently she took a missile for her wingman, Count, and made it back to base with half of her wing torn off.