I reported to the hangar bay before 0600, uniform sharp, boots still carrying the grit of yesterday's madness. The place was quiet at that hour—too quiet. Rows of jets sat under the overhead lights like sleeping beasts, Blackbird-9's emblem painted on their wings. I'd expected the squad to be here already. Elite pilots always struck me as the type to breathe discipline.
Turns out I was wrong.
They strolled in at 0630.
The first through the door was a tall, sharp-jawed man with messy dark hair and an easy smirk—Enzo. He stopped when he noticed me standing at attention.
"Well damn," he said. "The new guy's punctual. Careful, Paige. You're going to make the rest of us look bad."
The others laughed as they followed him in.
A redheaded woman—Sofia—walked with that quiet, surgical sort of confidence that made everyone give her a little more room. She sized me up with one calm look; I felt it like a measurement.
As I watched them, the HUD slid into my vision without asking. It was a small panel on the lower corner of my sight: clean, clinical, exactly the kind of thing that should not exist. It fed me names and tags the moment I glanced at someone.
[Name: Moretti, Enzo]
Callsign: Falcon
Age: 34
Rank: Lt. Commander (Unit Commander)
[Name: Alvarez, Sofia]
Callsign: Nighthawk
Age: 25
Rank: Commander (Squadron XO)
I didn't react. No one else could see it. The info belonged only to me, an overlay only my eyes remembered how to display. I kept looking straight at Enzo and let the HUD do its work at the edge of my sight.
"You're officially the second youngest in the squad," someone said from behind her. A tall Korean pilot—Jae-Seong—grinned and pointed at Sofia. "But the prodigy covers youth for everyone."
The HUD had him too.
[Name: Min, Jae-Seong]
Callsign: Raven
Age: 31
Rank: Flight Captain
"I can make you run laps until you puke," Sofia replied, calm, even, terrifying.
Raven's grin immediately softened. "See? Talent and leadership."
A Nigerian pilot stepped forward next—Eze. He gave me a wide grin. "Relax, Ace Officer. We're not as scary as our reputations. Well… except Nighthawk, but that's genetic."
[Name: Marcus, Eze]
Callsign: Burner
Age: 29
Rank: Flight Captain
Hana leaned in beside him, crossing her arms. "Speak for yourself. I'm terrifying for sport."
[Name: Kobayashi, Hana]
Callsign: Siren
Age: 29
Rank: Flight Captain
The group's energy caught me off guard. I'd expected ice-cold professionals or arrogant hotshots. Instead, they were… normal. Human. Jokes, quirks, rough edges. The difference was that every single one of them could probably outfly the sun.
The HUD still watched though. It followed me as I moved, tagging voices, marking call signs, listing recent mission stats beside names I hadn't met until that moment.
Enzo stepped toward me, resting his hands behind his back. "Alright, Frost. Since you're the newest wing in Blackbird-9, quick orientation. We fly harder, faster, and cleaner than any squadron in the division. We don't cut corners. We don't leave anyone behind. And when we're in formation, we fly like a single machine. You keep up, you'll fit in just fine."
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly—as if evaluating me, as if sensing there was more to me than the dossier said.
"Any questions?"
"No, sir."
"Good. Welcome to Blackbird-9." He clapped me once on the shoulder. "Training flight in ten." He winked.
The HUD chimed softly immediately, and displayed a small line at the top of my vision:
[Assignment Confirmed — Blackbird-9: Active.]
Eze nudged Hana. "See? Told you he'd be the early type."
I didn't smile, but something in me eased. I'd walked in here expecting to be judged, measured, scrutinized. Maybe I had been. But I was still standing here.
Blackbird-9. The legends.
And now… my squadron.
The tags slid out of the way as I looked past them, but I knew they were still there, waiting.
Training in ten.
I could handle the training.
I wasn't sure about the rest.