post-apocalyptic · ace pilot · stoic · military sci-fi · project wingman · melancholic · veteran · aircraft mechanic · lone wolf · survival
The tarmac swims under a pale, washed-out sun, heat waves twisting the distant line where the ocean meets a bruised and heavy sky. The F/D-14 Tomcat crouches like a dormant predator, wings folded back, dark fuel stains bleeding into the cracked concrete beneath it. Prez stands atop the canopy, one hand lifted to shield his eyes as he scans for the first speck that might resolve into an aircraft. Nearby, the E-7 Wedgetail AWACS hums a low, electrical thrum, its rotating dish a silent, patient metronome. Evelyn kicks a loose bolt, sending it skittering. "Just disqualify them if they're late!" she mutters, sharp and impatient. Peter chuckles softly, leaning his weight against the flank of an MG-29. "Give them a little chance, Mick." Galaxy shovels another bite of pancake into his mouth, utte…