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                         The Elite                         
                    -by Novus Draconis-                    
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                         Chapter 1                         
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Chapter 1
Mark Twain once said that quitting smoking was the easiest thing in the world to do, speaking from the personal experience of quitting the improbable number of a thousand times.
Spitfire could appreciate sarcasm like that.
She stuck another piece of gum into her mouth and chewed as she crossed her arms over her chest, watching as her team completed their morning exercises. She had completed hers an hour ago, before everyone else was awake.
She had started smoking when she was thirteen in a misguided attempt to deal with the stress in her life. Now, at eighteen, she hadn't had a cigarette in two months. She was pretty proud of that, but it didn't mean she didn't want one now.
Smoking was too hard on her body, what with her career and all. The Wonderbolts Elite were expected to be in top physical condition. Their job, and the media, demanded it.
Scrutinized as they were, they had to keep themselves at their best. Everybody from politicians and activists to armchair psychologists and Jane Busybody wanted a piece of them. She supposed it was expected. The Elite used their talents to rescue the victims of disaster. Essentially, they were children running headlong into danger and some people had an issue with that.
But that didn't mean they didn't have the training and the talent to complete each mission successfully.
Soarin was negotiating the Salmon Run. Using a long metal bar, he would lodge it against each pair of rungs before slinging himself up to the next pair. It was strenuous and required a great deal of upper body strength.
About three quarters of the way up, he lost his grip and fell back to the blue mats. Laying on his back, he laughed at his own misfortune.
Spitfire grimaced. She demanded the best from her team, especially Soarin. She had named him her Second because he was the best and he always delivered, but, sometimes, she wished he'd take his job a little more seriously.
Fleetfoot worked her way along the Spider Wall. This was a difficult obstacle, requiring that she keep her arms and legs braced against the opposing walls to keep herself from falling. As there wouldn't always be mats below, falling was discouraged.
While Fleet publicly presented herself as a congenial girl with a conservative sense of humor, privately, she was as prone to backstabbing and attitude as any teenager and more than most. She tended to treat anyone who she felt was inferior with contempt. Unfortunately, she felt everyone was inferior to her.
She had serious issues with other women in authority, which meant she and Spitfire were at constant odds. Fleet wasn't stupid enough to directly call Spitfire out, but she wasn't above spreading rumors and making snide remarks behind her captain's back. Spitfire did her best to ignore the girl, certain she was just jealous of the attention Spitfire regularly received.
Surprise was climbing the wall, literally. The energetic girl was the youngest of the Wonderbolt Elite at only fifteen. She flirted with everybody incessantly and was absolutely loved by the media and the fans for her bubbly personality. However, her antics would test the patience of a saint. As Spitfire was far from saintly, it often put them at odds. It was all she could do to keep from tying the girl up, gagging her with a sock, and stuffing her in a locker somewhere. She only refrained from doing that because she was sure Surprise would find it great fun.
From the top of the wall, Icarus reached down to help her up. Being the most recent addition to the team, he had to work in tandem with another member while his talents and his placement on the team were assessed. It was a chore that everyone else tried to avoid, but Spitfire had come up with an arbitrary method to assure everyone got equal time to train the newbie.
Namely, she arbitrarily picked somebody and, today, that somebody was Surprise.
Icarus was always building something that he thought would help the team. She preferred that he'd train more, but she had enough battles to fight. Still, the boy had a lot of very good ideas. He was the one who came up with the Heart Monitors they used. The monitors read the Electromagnetic field around a beating heart, showing the location of any nearby person, even through dense rubble. Unfortunately, the monitor had a range of only a few meters, but they had still managed to be useful.
Straddling the top of the wall, Surprise embraced Icarus in a tight hug, causing the poor boy to blush radiantly.
Spitfire let out a chuckle at his expression. He still didn't know how to take any affection and usually misread it all, which led to some pretty funny misunderstandings. He had once tried to flirt with Fleetfoot, which had resulted in her putting a verbal foot up his ass.
As the newest member of the Elite, Icarus had the delightful task of doing anything that the veterans didn't want to do. Everything from cleaning out the apartments to washing the uniforms and scheduling appointments. Basically, he was the Elite's bitch.
She pulled off her blue and gold uniform jacket and ran a hand through her ginger and blonde locks, which were already damp with sweat. The summer days here in France could get quite warm, unlike her native Ireland, and she was surprised at how quickly the air heated up.
To keep herself occupied while the rest of the team finished their exercises, she crouched down and opened Surprise's bag. She retrieved the outlandishly pink notebook within and opened it to the girl's arithmetic work.
Wonderbolt's academy was a school, where children were prepared for life. Granted, all of these children were athletic, but even athletic children needed to be taught the basics. Icarus and Surprise hadn't graduated yet and were still saddled with homework every night.
Part of the school's policy was that any student who failed to meet academic standards would not be allowed to participate in extracurricular activities and Elite was, technically, an extracurricular activity. Now, as their numbers were so small and they could be called upon at any time to go and save the day, it wouldn't do to have two of their members down due to poor grades. Therefore, she flexed some of her muscle and implemented her own policy: Every team member willing had the responsibility of checking over the homework of their younger teammates. As Fleetfoot was a horse's ass, it boiled down to her and Soarin dividing subjects between them. She handled Arithmetic, History, and Sciences. He was responsible for Literature, Economics, and Government.
This way, each member of the Elite was a key part of their success as a team in every sense. Icarus and Surprise saw Spitfire and Soarin less as superiors and more as older siblings. There were pros and cons to this type of relationship, but she found it satisfactory for the most part. Whenever the kids, as she referred to them, started to forget their place, she would remind them that she was captain and could make their lives miserable for quite some time. There would be some grumblings, but peace would be restored.
With a whistle and a wave of her arm, she signaled the rest of her team. “Let's wrap it up. The kids have class in fifteen.”
Icarus trotted up. “But I haven't had breakfast yet.”
She shook her head. “Then you should have gotten up earlier. One half-hour of training, whether you need it or not.”
“I had a lot of homework last night.”
She gave him a wry look. “Is that why you didn't do it?” She snickered at the look he gave her. “Yeah, boyo. Soarin' told me about how you were up half the night tinkerin' with your toys. Ye know the policy here. Eccers come first. Period.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mother.”
“Oi. I'll thank you to not be givin' me any lip. Besides, I'm the closest thing to a mum you've got here.”
It was true. There were times when she was less of a captain and more of a mother in the way she kept them on schedule, helped with homework, made sure they went to bed and got up, and kept them out of trouble.
Icarus picked up his bag and started back towards the dorms to shower before his first class of the day. Spitfire couldn't resist rubbing it in. “Love you!” She called.
He flashed a rude gesture over his shoulder and broke into a jog.
The notebook she was holding was snatched out of her hand as a blonde blur darted past, sprinting after her training buddy. “See ya later, Spit!”
“Hey, Fleet! Ya want some breakfast?” She heard Soarin over her shoulder.
“I'm good. Gotta keep practicin' if I'm gonna make Captain one day!”
“Over my dead body.” Spitfire muttered.
She felt someone grab a fistful of her shirt and pull her to her feet. “How's my favorite partner this morning?” Soarin asked her.
“Not looking forward to what we're getting ready to do. Had I known that Elite held more paperwork than action, I would have told the judges to take that scholarship and blow it out their arses.”
“What? And risk losing out on all those great times with yours truly?”
“Okay, great times aside, this has got to be the worst part of the job.” She complained.
He laughed. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you hated paperwork.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” She deadpanned. “Why, I just love making training schedules and havin' a row with Sean over budgets and equipment. What is his job, anyway?” She asked, referring to their manager.
“Making it look like we have adult supervision?”
Spitfire shook her head. It wasn't fair that they mocked Sean like this. While she kept the peace within the team, he acted as a barrier between the rest of the world and the Elite. Their manager worked tirelessly to fend off reporters and activists and governments while trying to put his kids in the best light. It wasn't an easy job, especially when she took it upon herself to be a pain, but he did it with pride.
x----x
One of the perks of being an Elite was the on-campus housing. Each of the five Elite got their own apartments with private baths and kitchens. Though the rest of the team often ate with the other academy attendees, Spitfire liked her privacy. In the cafeteria, they were treated as celebrities and constantly bombarded with requests for autographs and tales of their adventures. She didn't particularly care for that kind of attention.
The main debate of that morning was which she would do first, shower or breakfast. She pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and began to chug it. It was actually the same bottle she had used for months, filled with water from the tap. It was one of the habits she had developed while growing up.
On the counter, her phone buzzed. She grabbed it, knowing exactly who was calling this early. Her brother only managed to have the time to call her once or twice a month and only before he started work at ten.
“Hiya, Levi.”
“Oi, coppertop!” Her brother barked. “How's the form?”
Whenever she spoke with Levi, she found herself slipping back into her original Dublin accent, something she tried to keep to a minimum at the academy. “Fair. 'Bout ye?”
“Doin' a line.” He replied.
Her eyes shot up. So, her brother had a girlfriend? That was news. “Me arse and Katty Berry, you do.”
“It's the truth, Coppertop. Me and this vixen, Lucy, have been steppin' out for a month now.”
“Ye ain't got the time, what with work and the wee ones.”
He chuckled. “No worries. I've got me a new gig runnin' post. Good pay and good hours. Shannon's old enough now to mind the babies and I've got some time now.”
“Aye, call me gobsmacked.” She replied before moving on to the reason behind her brother's call. “Here in a minute, I'll go ahead and transfer the money.”
Every month, she sent half of her pay back home. The money, collected from royalties, helped her family along.
“I've just got done tellin' ye, sis. We don't need it anymore. The money I make pays for everythin' we need these days.”
“Then put it in Shannon's university money.” She retorted. “I ain't gonna live the posh life here while my sister is a pauper. Mary may not have made anythin' of herself, but I'll be damned if my sister isn't gonna be somethin'.”
“Lay off Mum. She's been through enough and she ain't been right in ages.”
Spitfire felt her choler rise. “In case ye've forgotten, we went through the same thing. We struggled and fought and made it while she shut down and didn't give one rat's arse about us!”
Her brother sighed. “I know ye're still sore about what happened-”
“Bloody right, I am!” She snarled. “Absolute bollocks!”
“Stop eatin' my head and let me finish. We all miss you and wish ye'd come home. Yeah, I know ye're busy savin' the world and bein' famous, but that doesn't mean the only way we should see ye is in the papers.”
“Damn ye and yer guilt trips, Levi. I'll try to make it up there on the hollies, but I can't make any promises. Go to work, earn yer quid, and I'll see ye when I can.”
“Alright. I guess that'll have to do. See ye.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “Aye. See ye. Give the babies a kiss for me.”
“Aye.”
She ended the call and rubbed at her face. Despite what that bitch Fate had flung merrily into her path, Spitfire soldiered forth and had managed success. She thought, upon learning that she was going to be an Elite, that life was going to be easy.
“Bollocks,” she muttered.

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                         Chapter 2                         
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Chapter 2
“We need a car.”
Surprised, Spitfire looked over at Soarin. “Beg pardon?”
“A car. Y'know,” He pantomimed driving, “vroom, vroom.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know what a car is. Why do ye think we need one?”
“Because all awesome heros have equally awesome cars. Batman, the Ghostbusters.”
“I swear; ye watch entirely too many films.”
“C'mon, Spit. People expect us to have a way to get around on our own. We can't keep being chauffeured around like we're a bunch of kids. I mean, people would take us a lot more seriously if we had an awesome car.”
“People would take us a lot more seriously if we didn't use words like 'awesome'.” She retorted, turning back to her partially-completed schedule. “Besides, I'm having trouble getting approval for the funds for new equipment.”
He snorted. “Why? Tuition for this school is twenty large a year. How is it that the Elite is short on cash?”
“Well, believe it or not, most of the tuition paid to the school goes into the running of the school: maintenance, food costs, wages. We only get...what was it...” She stared at the ceiling as she tried to remember. “Maybe twenty percent. I don't remember the exact amount. Anyways, that goes to maintaining our own equipment. We get a bit of money from the governments of the nations we go into and that supplements our funds. Between our equipment and travel expenses, that money is all spent. Hence why the only wages that we, personally, receive come from royalties. If ye want a car, ye're going to have to pay for it yerself.”
He sat back for a moment, lips moving as he silently did the math. Finally, he smiled. “What kind of car do you think we'll need?”
She blinked. “Ye're not seriously considering?”
“I am. Not something incredible, just to tool around town in.”
“What's wrong with me Civic?”
“It's a Civic.”
She scoffed and gave a dismissive flick of her hand. “Go way outta that. Nothin' wrong with me car.”
“That and I'm pretty sure it's only held together with superglue and happy thoughts.”
She bit her lower lip. “Yea, I'll admit it's a bit old...”
“That's putting it mildly.”
“But it still goes and that's what counts. Aye?”
“No, yeah, no,” he said with a nod. “But, here's the thing Spit. You're a world-famous athlete, right? You can do things that most people can't even imagine and you do it to help other people. You are, by definition, a super-friggin'-hero. Why are you riding around in a pile-of-crap jalopy?”
“'Cause that was the first car I've ever bought; on me very first royalty check.” She snapped. “Bloody git, ye are.”
“Alright, sentimental value aside, your car was on its last leg the day you bought it, am I right? Of course I am. You need something newer, better, more fitting for you.”
“I've never felt comfortable showing off.”
He hunched over. “That's just it. Before, you've never had a reason for showing off. Now, you do. You've achieved so much, Spit. Don't you think it's time everyone knew of your achievements?”
Her jaw tightened. Soarin had started at the academy at the same time she did. It really was an odd occurance as they were both awarded scholarships for the Elite at the same time, after a perfect tie at the same tournament. It had never happened before and was unlikely to ever happen again.
She and he had trained together from the start. The previous captain, Charger, had commented that their styles matched each other's perfectly. They had been partnered up from their and had rarely spent time apart. There was some rumor and speculation spreading around the school that they were a couple and, when Spitfire made captain and named Soarin her second, that speculation had only strengthened.
The two were so similar. Soarin had grown up in an orphanage after the disappearance of his parents. After her father's death, Spit might as well have had no parents. They both held a passion born of fighting for and earning everything they ever had, but that was where the similarities ended. While Soarin liked to show off his wealth, she preferred to hide hers.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen. Your family is set up. Everything is okay now. You can be a little selfish. Splurge. Buy something nice for yourself. You've earned it a thousand times over.”
She knew him. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. He would keep pressing the issue until she caved. The last time he had done this, it had been about her phone. Her old pre-paid flip phone had cracked and the battery refused to hold a charge for any length of time. The moment he heard about it, he began to drop some not-so-subtle hints that she should get a top-of-the-line smartphone. He would leave tech magazines and advertisements where she would see them and gush about all of the new gadgets. Finally, she conceded and let him drag her downtown to buy one of those flashy toys.
“Terrier with a rat, ye are.” She muttered, digging her car keys out of her pocket.
x----x
“Now, I don't want anythin' too flashy,” she said as she shifted gears.
“Nope.”
“No bells and whistles. I don't need distractions while I drive.”
“Absolutely not,” he replied with a wry grin.
She glanced at him. “Why do I get the feeling ye're going to force me to buy something I don't want?”
“I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do.”
“Aye, ye're right. Ye'll just badger me endlessly until I do it.”
He gave her a hurt look.
“Oh, come off the innocent act,” she replied. “Ye know exactly what ye're doin'.”
The car backfired twice as they pulled into the auto dealership. Surrounding them were the gleaming bodies of new and “like new” cars. Her own antique vehicle sputtered and squealed as it halted. It took a moment of struggling to get the damaged door open.
Yes, her car had served her well for many years, but Soarin was right. The past year had cost her more in maintenance than the car was worth by even the most conservative estimates. She had always driven something small and economical, not seeing the point in anything huge and flashy and fast.
This time, she didn't want something economical or flashy. She wanted something that could haul around five people comfortably. Granted, the school provided transportation whenever they needed to go long distances, but she didn't want to stuff five fully-grown people into a tiny sports car. That simply wasn't practical.
“Hey, Spit, check this out.”
She turned and saw Soarin gesturing at a slick black Bugatti. “No.”
“Aw, c'mon. This thing just screams 'get out of my way, bitch'!”
“No. We need something we can fit everybody into. That's a two-seater.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. It's got a back seat.”
She peered through the back window to a bench that was technically a seat. “A toddler couldn't fit in there.”
“Well, maybe if we lay them lengthwise...”
“What, and stack them like groceries? I think not.” Something caught her eye. It was a four-door SUV-type vehicle with room for the team and then some. She read through the specifications posted on the window. Touchscreen Satellite Navigation, power windows, Air Conditioning and seating for seven. At only fifteen thousand Euro, it was a steal.
“This one,” she declared.
x----x
Half an hour later found them driving off the lot in her new Lodgy Prestige. She couldn't keep the grin off of her face as she bounced slightly in the seat. This was the first new car she had ever owned, had ever been in, and it was perfect.
Soarin sulked in the passenger seat, obviously not agreeing.
She swatted his arm, “Buck up. This thing is great.”
“Can't believe you bought the soccer-mom-mobile,” he muttered.
“Oh? And ye would have me buy some little zoomy speedster that I don't want.”
“Anything is better than this bus.”
“ I wonder who you wanted me to buy that first car for. For me or for you? Tell ye this, hotshot. Ye want that slick speedster, ye can buy it with ye're own money.”
He snapped his fingers. “There's an idea. Turn around.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh, no, boyo. We've got a meeting here in an hour and I need to eat something before I collapse.”
x----x
Spitfire sat down at the long conference table, sipping from her protein shake. The kids were still in class and would be for a few hours yet. Therefore, this meeting of the minds would only be for the veteran Elite and Sean. Their manager wanted to go over a few budgeting numbers and announce some new training that he wanted them to do.
She looked up and saw Fleetfoot saunter in, drop into the chair across from her and prop her feet up on the glossy oak table.
“Not much for manners are ye?” She asked.
Fleet snorted. “What was that?” She asked in her hoarse voice. “Were those even words? How can anybody understand you?”
Spitfire flipped the bird. “Understand that, aye? Nobody likes ye, Fleetfoot. Ye're a two-faced cunt that enjoys reapin' the fruits of everybody else's labors. If it were up to me, ye'd be off this team so fast, yer head would spin.”
“But it's not up to you,” she spat back. “Besides, who're ya gonna get that can get into the places I can get into. I can slip through the smallest gaps.”
“Heh, just like the rat ye are.”
“A rat, eh? Let me tell you something. I'm a thousand times better than you are when it comes to leading this team.”
“There's more to leading this team than calling the shots. Ye don't care about any single person other that yerself. The Elite would fall apart with ye at the helm.”
“At least I don't act like I'm everybody's mom.”
“Ye'd be everybody's mum, the way ye spread yer legs for any man catches yer fancy.”
“Why don't I just fill a pool with mud and let you two duke it out there,” Soarin suggested as he sat down.
“'Cause I'd drown this heifer. Hold her down til she stops kickin'.”
“You threatenin' me?”
“I'm makin' ye a promise,” Spitfire snapped.
“That's it. One more word out of either of you and I'm tyin' you together.”
Before either of them could start up again and let Soarin make good on his promise, Sean arrived and began to pass around briefing folders.
“We're all busy so I'll make this quick,” he announced, taking a seat at the head of the table. “First, Soarin's been bothering me with requests for combat training again. Care to explain yourself?”
Soarin sat up straight. “Some of the areas we go into are a little dangerous. One of the bigger issues we have is with people who are too confused and scared to accept our assistance. They can get a little...rowdy? In the event that occurs, I'd like us to be able to perform a few restraining maneuvers so that we might avoid another Kyoto incident.”
Spitfire shuddered at the memory of Kyoto. They had been sent into a collapsed building in order to search and rescue survivors. One woman, who was injured and scared, came to as they were bringing her out and decided to put up a fight. She had managed to dodge the woman's swing, but hadn't been paying attention to where she was standing. The involuntary step back had caused her to lose her balance and fall from the edge from a storey up. Her training had taken over automatically so she was able to avoid terrible injuries, but that didn't mean she was able to walk away from that.
She had spent two months on medical leave before the doctors had cleared her to return and Sean was able to redirect the worst of the media fallout, but she still had nightmares about the pavement rushing up to meet her.
“I would also like to submit requests for some non-lethal weapons, specifically tasers.”
Sean nodded. “I'm going to go ahead and say 'no' to the tasers because of your ages, but I have no problem with training in some combat maneuvers, provided our lawyers and I can look them over before we utilized them in the field.”
Soarin glanced at Spitfire, who gave a subtle nod, before nodding himself. “I have no problem with that.”

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                         Chapter 3                         
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Chapter 3
Spitfire awoke suddenly, clutching the sheets to her breast. The shadows of midnight made her familiar bedroom seem alien and it took her a moment to remember where she was. She let out an aggravated growl and glared at the angry red letters of her alarm clock.
0300
Three hours of sleep, and she wasn’t likely to gain any more. She switched on her bedside lamp, got out of her bed, and went to her wardrobe. She fished out her bathrobe and pulled it on over the Hello Kitty sleepwear. The set had been given to her by Soarin on her most recent birthday. While she had politely accepted the gift, she had every intention of stashing them away and keeping her old pair.
Which had mysteriously disappeared at some point between her waking up and her retiring for the night, leaving her with the options of wearing the embarrassing pyjamas or sleeping in the buff. Despite the privacy of her own bedroom, Spitfire preferred something between her and the sheets.
Sleepily, she wandered into her small kitchen and set the kettle on for tea before grabbing a folder containing the incomplete training schedule and settling down on her sofa. The schedule not only covered her team’s time in the yard, but their weight training, endurance conditioning, and any special outings they needed. If somebody required something that took them off campus, they would have to clear it with her, in writing, with clear times for departure and return. It would not do for Captain Spitfire to be ignorant of a team member’s whereabouts.
As the summer holidays would soon be upon them, she saw that many of the pages were leave requests to spend time with family. She happily signed off on them, making a mental note to fill out one for herself, and noticed that there was no request form for Fleetfoot. While Fleetfoot rarely filled out a request form of any sort, Spitfire thought it odd that she wouldn’t want to see her kin, given the way she went on about how wonderful they were.
It was less odd that Soarin hadn’t filled one out. He had been raised in an orphanage after his parents had disappeared. He didn’t have anybody and would be spending this holiday, like every other, alone. She felt a pang of pity for her friend and resolved that this time, things would be different.
The kettle on the stove began to shriek its signal, catching her attention. She got up and hurried to it, hoping that the noise didn’t wake any of the others. Removing the kettle from the heat, she set it to the side and fetched her favorite mug and a bag of Yorkshire Gold.
The tea steeped while she continued to look over the paperwork. It was her goal to have schedules for the next three weeks completed before everyone left for the summer holidays. She didn’t want to be hounded by her teammates the moment they all returned for workout and training times.
She set her papers and pen aside as her attention shifted from her work to the dream, the same one that had disturbed her sleep every few weeks for years, ever since the day her life, her family’s lives, changed forever.
She had watched her father leave for work, as he did every day. While his usual work as a welder had him in the construction sites, demolitions was the order of the day. He had been a member of a crew that was to go into the buildings set to be demolished and remove anything of value that might be recycled and used again.
It had been a lorry, an older model that wasn’t in the best condition. That’s what the contractors had stated. She was more inclined to believe it was the driver, who had been too few months with his license and too many hours without sleep. Either way, the heavy vehicle slammed into a support pillar, the shock of the impact being too much for the ancient and nearly-gutted warehouse to take.
It had collapsed, trapping several workmen within. Spitfire and her family remained glued to the television as the news covered the accident and the ensuing rescue, waiting with baited breath for word that he was alive. But hours stretched into days without word of him. Finally, the word “rescue” was replaced with “recovery”.
And her family had broken.
Her mother had gone into a psychological tail-spin and shut down. She stopped going to work, stopped tending to the children, stopped being a mother.
In retrospect, Spitfire should have called Child Services, but a misguided love of her family and more than a little stubborn pride made her put herself in the role of surrogate mother. After school, she and Levi worked odd jobs to help keep the house afloat. The house was always full of food, even if it wasn’t the best, was always warm, and was always safe.
When an opportunity to join the Wonderbolts Elite came up, she jumped at the chance. She had developed her skill set in parkour as a way to cross the city as efficiently as possible without transportation. Being paid to do something that she had perfected out of necessity was something she felt would be very worthwhile. And, after joining, her skills had only sharpened.
And slowly, through hard work and sacrifice, she had knit her family back together.
Looking up, she noticed that the sky to the east had begun to lighten. While it would still be a while before the training yard was opened, she couldn’t sit still any longer.
Fifteen minutes and a change of clothes later found herself outside, jogging laps around the campus track. The buds in her ears blared classic rock as she found her pace matching the rhythm of the music. She loved her early morning jogs, when the campus was still covered in mist and silent as the grave. She was a private person and felt like too much of a spectacle when there were a lot of people around. Granted, she could set those issues aside when her job called for it, but, as a matter of personal preference, she didn’t care for much attention.
She was finishing up her sixth lap when movement appeared out of the corner of her eye. She glanced to see Soarin keeping pace and removed her ear buds to accommodate him. While he was fast and an excellent athlete, Soarin was also very lazy and would not be out of bed this early unless there was something he wanted to discuss with her.
“Aye?” She prompted.
“Morning. Saw you out for a run and figured I’d join you.”
She scoffed. “Away with ye.”
Soarin actually managed to look hurt. “What?”
“Come off it. The only way someone would get ye to run is to set the dogs on ye. What’s on yer mind, mate? Matter of fact, I had somethin’ I wanted to hear your word on, but it can wait.”
“What about?”
While she could wait, he couldn’t apparently. “I was thinkin’ about headin’ home for the holliers, seein’ me family, y’know? Ye wanna come?”
“Come with you? To meet your family?”
She nodded, beginning her cool-down lap. “Aye. I noticed ye didn’t put in for any time off and I thought ye’d like to go somewhere instead of bummin’ around the school.”
“How long have we known each other?”
The question caught her off guard. “Eh?”
“Known each other. How long have we been friends, you and I?”
She shrugged. There hadn’t really been a point where she decided that Soarin was her friend. It had just happened. They trusted each other with their lives and enjoyed the time they spent together. She had always guided him on what she felt was the right path while he had always tried to get her to loosen up and have some fun. In that way, they were less like friends and more like siblings. “Dunno. Four or five years, I’d guess.”
“Uh-huh. So, my question is, why did it take you so long to bring me home and show me off to mom and dad?”
“I’m gonna ignore that comment. Ye’re comin’ with?”
“Yeah. I could use a road trip. Do they know about me?”
“Soarin, these are me siblings. They’d assume you’re me boyfriend, and tease me mercilessly. Imagine me, the stoic and motherly Spitfire, having a boyfriend.”
“You’ve never had a boyfriend?”
“When would I have had the time? I’ve had to care for me siblings and work, then I had to be a part of the Wonderbolts. I’ve never really had the chance to do all of that stuff that normal teenagers do.”
“Uh-huh, so you’re blaming your family and your job for you not having a normal life?”
She gave him a look. “How in the bloody hell did ye come to that? ‘S not what I said.”
“Sure sounded like it.”
“Ye asked for a reason and I gave it. Why didn’t I look for a relationship before? Me family. Why not now? Me job. Somebody’s gotta look after you lot. Between competitions, publicity stuff, missions, and paperwork, I just don’t have the time.”
He shrugged. “I could help.”
“What? A scatterbrained fool like ye?”
“Yeah. You named me your second. I’m sure it was for more than my charm and boyish good-looks. I can put together a training schedule for the team and keep up with the rookies, give you some time to yourself.”
“To do what with?”
“Whatever you want. Don’t think I don’t notice how much all of this is wearing you down. No offense, Spit, but you look ten years older than you actually are.”
“Oi! I know where ye sleep!”
“Truth hurts, kid. I’d bet you’d look damn fine if you did yourself up right.”
They ended their run at the bleachers, where Spitfire had a towel and water bottle waiting for her. She began to dry the accumulated sweat from her face and neck. “So, ye wanna be everyone’s Da, eh?”
“If it gives you some time off to enjoy yourself, sure. Icarus is old enough to mind himself. Hell, I barely pay him more than a passing glance. Surprise might be a handful, but, if she comes to me for some girl issues, I can always send her your way. The point is, Spit, that I’m here for a reason and not for you to make fun of. Let me help you.”
She chewed at her lower lip. “Not entirely sure I’m comfortable with that.”
Soarin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously becoming frustrated. “I get it. You’ve shouldered the burden alone for so long that you don’t know how to live otherwise. You want things done right and the only way to make sure that happens is to do them yourself. I understand, Spitfire, but you need to understand that there are others just as capable as you are and who follow the same goals, if not through the same means, as you. We just want you to be happy, but you’re not. You’re constantly stressed out, constantly look tired, and always fighting with everyone but me. Nobody wants that for you.”
She stared at the ground for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She was almost surprised by Soarin’s words. He was usually a goofy and silly bastard, but he had a heart of gold and an excellent mind when he chose to use it. She didn’t doubt that he was up to the task, she just didn’t know if she was up to letting him.
However, she knew that for the sake of her sanity and the team’s, she would have to. “Alright, mate. Let’s see what ye’re made of, eh?”
He extended a hand, which she took in respect and gratitude. “I think you’ll be surprised.”
“I hope ye’re right, mate.” They sat down and she stretched her long, muscular legs. “What is it that you wanted to talk about?”
“Oh, right.” He swatted his forehead in dismay and grinned. “Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?”
She rolled her eyes, still not able to understand why everybody made a huge deal of her birthday. Surprise always tried to get her to agree to a huge party. Soarin would always buy her something she didn’t need and she would feel awkward. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful. Quite the contrary, she was always touched that they wanted to share such a day with her. But, after such time spent forsaking herself for others, she really didn’t know how to celebrate her own special day. In truth, she always felt a bit selfish in taking time for herself.
“Aye.”
“Surprise wants to do something for you.”
“I figured. Another party?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Do you have to make it sound like such a chore?”
“Well, what do ye want?”
“I just got done telling you. We all want to see you happy. Surprise isn’t nearly as oblivious as you think. She notices how forced it is when you pretend to be happy with what she does for you. All of that food, the decorations, the gifts. The money for those things comes out of her pocket. The least you could do is show a bit of appreciation.”
She was taken aback by his words. She had always thought that she was pretty close with her fellow Elite, but she was their supervisor and she needed them to follow her decisions without question. That couldn’t happen if she was their friend. However, she also wanted her team to be happy. Their job was difficult enough without having a leader who could be cold and distant.
“Soarin, tell the truth. Have I been a bad leader?”
He sat back and stared off into space, thinking.
“I don’t want you to spare me feelings.” She urged, impatient to get an answer from him.
“That’s not my intention. I’m just trying to figure out how to say this so that you can get the full picture. At times, you’re as warm and caring as any leader should be. You put our needs ahead of your own and always make time to hear about our problems. It’s when we try to reciprocate that we run into issues. Your unselfish nature makes you turn down things given out of love and you turn into this cold-hearted and callous bitch.”
Spitfire winced. This wasn’t what she had wanted. She wanted to be someone approachable, but also needed to establish dominance. “And how do I fix that?”
He cocked his head. “Really? You’re going to ask that question when you already know the answer? Open up to the team. Be less Captain Spitfire and more Spitfire. Let Surprise throw you a birthday bash and freaking enjoy yourself. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, stop sacrificing and start living. Be selfish and quit it with the martyr crap.”
Spitfire sighed and stood. “Alright, I need a shower. I’ll see you later.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to wait until after practice?”
She clicked her tongue. “Think I might skip practice today.”
Soarin immediately leaped up and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Hmmm, you don’t have a fever.”
She brushed him away. “I may not have a fever, but I do have a lot on me mind. I just need some time to think.” Turning, she started back for the dorm.
“Spit?”
She turned back to Soarin, who had a look of concern on his face. “I’m fine, mate. I’ll see you all later.”
Returning to her flat, she headed for the shower, leaving a trail of clothes as she went. Her bathroom wasn’t large, just barely big enough for her to turn around in, but it suited her needs just fine.
She reached in and cranked the handle to its hottest setting, wanting to relax under the scalding water. As much as she didn’t want to show it, Soarin’s words had gotten to her. She had been thrust into this leadership role and had gone about it all the wrong way. She thought that if she had remained emotionally detached from her team, it would be easier to make the tougher calls. She didn’t like putting anyone in harm’s way, but sometimes it was necessary and she always trusted the individual’s skills and judgement to see them safely through.
Now, however, she was beginning to doubt that mindset. Sure, the Elite needed a strong leader that could make difficult judgement calls, but they were all little more than children and they were all so very far from home. How could one manage such a balance?
Either way, Soarin was right. For the sake of the team, she needed to relax. She really only had to be a leader when the situation called for it. Besides, the team might respond better to her if they saw her as a friend, not just their captain.
She shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her before opening the door.
“Hiya, Spit!”
Spitfire swore her heart stopped for a moment. Standing just outside of arm’s reach was Surprise. “What’re ye doin’ here?” She gasped, pulling her towel as tight as it would go.
“I had a really important question to ask, and I knocked on your door, and it was open, and you weren’t here, and I thought I would just catch you later, but I heard your shower running and knew you’d only be a few minutes, so I decided to wait.” The girl paused for a breath. “Is that okay?”
Surprise’s normal rate of speech was the same as a Latino football announcer on a caffeine high. It made her nearly incomprehensible to most, but Spitfire had been around the excitable girl long enough to be able to piece together what she said, even if Spitfire only caught a third of the actual sentence.
Surprise also had a nasty habit, and one everybody was trying to break her of, of appearing where one would least expect her. Such as in Spitfire’s flat while her captain was otherwise occupied. This wasn’t the first time this had happened.
Her heart rate returning to normal, Spitfire fixed the girl with what she hoped was a reassuring grin. Judging by Surprise’s reaction, it was not. “Ye really need to stop doin’ that, lass. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Surprise wilted. “I’m sorry.”
Spitfire waved away her concern. “It’s alright. No harm done. What say ye give me a minute and I’ll hear yer troubles?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Spitfire entered her bedroom, grumbling as she went to her wardrobe and pulled her uniform out. Sometimes, Surprise knew exactly how to irk her. Logically, Spitfire knew that was never the girl’s intention, but she couldn’t help but doubt the girl’s innocence when Surprise plucked her nerves so often.
She made sure all of her pouches were secure on her belt, tightened her boots down, and pulled on her jacket before leaving her bedroom and joining Surprise on the sofa. “What’s on yer mind?”
“Well, I was wondering what to do for your party.”
Spitfire blinked, “Party?”
“For your birthday, silly. June the fifth, just like last year.”
“Oh. Yeah, right. What about it?”
“I’m not like my cousin, Pinkie. She’s a professional party planner and knows what to do about any situation. I’m nothing compared to her. I wasn’t sure what to do since you didn’t seem to like my last attempts.”
Spitfire winced at that. “I’m sorry about that, love.”
Surprise cocked her head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“No, I do. I grew up poor, Surprise. I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve ever had. All of us, me siblings and I, had to work if the family was to survive. I had to give everything I am, and because of this, I have a hard time accepting things given to me by people who care about me. The parties you threw for me were great, and I’m sure this one will be just as great. I’m going to try and enjoy meself and enjoy being with me friends. It’s not going to be easy. I’ll need ye to be patient with me.”
Surprise shrugged. “I know you’re always patient with me. Oh, don’t give me that look, Spit. I know I’m a pain in the ass.”
“Watch your mouth. Ye ain’t grown enough to use those words.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, mom.”
“And I’ll have none of that tongue, ye heard?”
“Yeah, yeah. Then I’ll start getting things together for your party. Oh, it’s going to be great. There’s going to be balloons and streamers and-”
“Let me stop you there. We’re all grown-ups, or mostly grown-up. I think we should have a grown-up party.”
Surprise snapped her fingers. “Grown-up party. You’re right!” She turned and started out the door. “Strippers and booze!”
Spitfire brought her hand to her face and shook her head. “Surprise,” she growled through gritted teeth.
Author's Note
A ten month writer's block is finally broken. Sorry to keep you hanging on like this, but life got in the way. Not much of an excuse, I know, but it's the only one I have. That being said, hopefully life will be kind to me and let me continue working on this with greater ease.