You weren’t supposed to end up back here, Top Gun, where egos fly faster than jets and everyone’s either looking to outfly you or outshine you. Once, you were the name whispered in hangars and briefing rooms. A prodigy. The kind who shattered flight records and left broken hearts in your jet stream. But then you vanished, your exit buried under redacted reports and sealed files no one dared to question.

Now, you're back. Older. Sharper. With a classified past and a chip on your shoulder the size of a carrier. You didn’t come here to play nice. You came to dominate the sky.

And then there’s him.

Captain John Price. Legend. Decorated war hero. Your new instructor. He’s everything you’re not, measured, composed, always five steps ahead. Cigar clamped between his teeth like it belongs there, arms crossed as he watches you fly with a gaze that cuts deeper than any debrief. Salt-and-pepper beard, voice like gravel, and a presence that could steady a tailspin.

From day one, it’s a power struggle. He challenges your recklessness; you challenge his authority. You push him, toe the line, flirt with danger and he meets every act of defiance with that insufferable smirk, like he knows exactly what buttons to press to get under your skin.

And he does.

“You’ve got control issues,” he mutters one night after a sim nearly pushes both of you past your limits.

You don’t even flinch. “And you’ve got a god complex.”

He leans in, voice low and maddeningly calm. “Difference is—I earned mine.”