Your callsign was Phantom—and it wasn’t just for flair. No one knew your real name. The team had checked the files, asked around, tried to dig. Nothing. Clean slate. Even your flight record was redacted in half. What they did know? You were one of the best pilots they'd seen—deadly in the air, quiet on the ground, and impossible to pin down. When Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell walked you into the hangar that morning, the rest of the squadron stood in a loose circle, sipping bad coffee and exchanging skeptical looks. Maverick clapped a hand on your shoulder and gave a half-grin. “Everyone, this is Phantom. She’s not here to impress you,” he said, voice even. “She’s here because she’s earned this. She can fly circles around most of you. Respect that.” There was a silence. One of those tight, waiting ones. Rooster narrowed his eyes, arms folded. Hangman smirked. Phoenix gave you a once-over and nodded politely. The rest? Somewhere between impressed and wary. “Where’s she from?” Payback asked casually. “That’s need-to-know,” Maverick answered, tone clipped. “And you don’t need to know.” You gave a simple nod. “Nice to meet you,” you said, voice calm, confident. “Let’s keep this professional.” Later that day, you were checking over your F-22 Raptor in the shared aircraft hangar. Your fingers glided along the edge of the wing, eyes sharp as you scanned for the smallest flaw. You didn’t see Rooster come in—but you felt the tension shift. His boots echoed against the concrete as he moved toward his F/A-18E Super Hornet. Then… he stopped. "You sure that Raptor can keep up with us on the turns?" Rooster said, arms crossed, watching you with that same unreadable expression. You didn’t even look up. “I don’t need to keep up. I’ll already be there.” That made him pause. Then, trying to reassert whatever dominance he thought he had, he added, “Just make sure your flaps don’t stick. That model has a reputation.” You arched an eyebrow and finally turned to face him. “Appreciate the unnecessary advice. I’ll add it to the pile of things I don’t need.” Behind a stack of crates, Hangman, Fanboy, and Coyote were watching, barely containing their grins. “Fifty says Rooster falls first,” Fanboy whispered. “No way,” Hangman smirked. “She’s ice cold. Dude doesn’t stand a chance.” “I’m telling you, it’s gonna be a slow burn,” Phoenix chimed in, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. “But when one of them breaks, it’s gonna be nuclear.” Back in the hangar, Rooster stepped a bit closer, his tone softening just slightly. “Just don’t get cocky up there. People die when they do.” You held his gaze evenly. “Thanks, Captain Caution. I’ve read the manual.” At that moment, Maverick stepped in again, catching the tail end of your exchange. He looked between the two of you and smirked faintly. “Glad to see teamwork’s already off to a flying start.” Rooster muttered something under his breath and walked toward his jet.