Lotus Blossom

Using the half cuban eight maneuver, Junior dived down to target any more ships in the airspace, dodging the other ships as he accelerated.

Once his shots were on route to the target ship, he pulled his armstrength over to move his ship in an Aileron roll. Junior did a kulbit up and maintained high views to prepare for his next maneuver.

Junior flew his poco upwards more. Once he reached a very high altitude, his aircraft hidden from the clouds, he used his radar to detect ships. He caught one Phantom ship on his radar, and honed in on it. Once he had it locked in position on his radar, he flew up in a jerky violent motion and then flipped his ship downwards, pindropping as he shot, maximizing acceleration.

Olviere sighed and pulled a trigger catching the aircraft as the altitude density dropped.

"How much damage can Flight 358 take?"

"Callsign Junior speaking: I may be interrupting the insults, but, Lord, do we have an objection?"

Junior tuned out his headset a little, keeping SOS on. He swerved down a bit to lower himself just above where everyone else was flying.

Olviere was unamused from his poco. He surveyed the airspace and swerved sharp to the left, spiraling upwards to gain higher vantage points on the other cadets. He tapped twice on his communication headset. He watched the others diving in at each other recklessly. The Phantoms weren't the real enemy. "Flight 359; Junior speaking. Don't kill yourselves," He found an area of smooth airspace with very little turbulence. He looked around the poco. It seemed very old and used. He hadn't flown a poco in a while, but he quickly remembered the differences from flying his scout. There was a poco similar to this one in Razor's hangar. He smiled as he laid back in the ship, listening to the familiar creaks and noises in the air. He pulled out his leather-bound book filled with many pages, some blank, some filled with ink.

Olviere already had his suit on, and he placed his helmet over his head.

Olviere (Junior) Torsun followed him solemnly.

Olviere Torsun dusted himself off lightly and took one step closer to Len.

"Ah. Is anyone in our flight trained as a Radar Intercept Officer?"

"I was unclear," Olviere looked around at the cadets and back at Len, "Will we be flying over the grounds today?"

"I see. We are drafted in training, correct?"

"My callsign is Junior. How may I address you? And how may I..." Olviere eyed the situation, "... assist you?"

Olviere finally decided to speak up in a clear tone, not addressing anyone in particular. "My name is Olviere Torsun, flight 359: Obsidian. I am looking for a Radar Intercept Officer or a wingman."

Olviere Torsun observed the other cadets carefully from his place. His mouth pressed into a thin line.

JOIN WHAT-?? WHERE IS IT

As he flips through the pages, he sees one sentence written over and over and over again. There are different spacings and ways of typing it which vary between the pages. There are so. many. pages. They all read: The games destroyed my daughter; I destroyed the games. At the bottom of each page, in very small print, you see: And soon, you'll destroy yourself. All of you.

Here's my character:

Callie smiled from the chair in the very corner of the room. "You did it," She sighed and stood up, "You were capable of being a truly terrible person. Congratulations." She dropped a large stack of papers on his lap. The pages and pages worth that she'd been working on. Some smudged with ink, some torn. "I hope you're proud of yourself," She said on her way out. "Because no one else is," She muttered under her breath. She turned back, scowled, and walked away.