Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Another sortie, another breakdown in the cockpit of his F-15C…

Cipher didn’t know how much longer he could keep up with his mercenary work. It’s been a couple months since the Belkan War ended, since he lost both PJ and Pixy. He’s met many independent mercs—and even air force guys—willing to join Galm Team, but to him it’s just not the same.

He missed the innocent optimism of PJ, and Pixy… He was Pixy’s Buddy. Whenever he’s gone on sortie, he’d look down at the ground, wondering, hoping, Pixy might’ve lived when he shot down the Morgan. It was like he was searching tirelessly for him, uselessly, as it was hard to see a person on the ground from so high up.

Cipher was losing hope, he ought to finally clip his wings. Maybe the post-sortie breakdowns would stop if the sorties themselves stopped.

The feeling of tears drying on his cheeks was irritating, but he didn’t dare remove his oxygen mask or helmet. Nor did he raise his helmet visor to wipe his face. He’s already parked his craft and shut off its systems, it was silent in the cockpit. Yet he didn’t raise the canopy just yet.

Something about sitting in the silence of the cockpit was oddly comforting, telling him he would be okay, that maybe he’d get to see his wingman again. Yet it was also unbearable, and he felt he needed to get out.

It was the war. The Belkan War and all its horrors.

The night when he and his wingmen witnessed the indiscriminate bombing of Hoffnung. The day when Belka dropped the seven nukes on itself. The moment when Pixy opened fire on him. When Pixy…

That godforsaken terrorist organization. And that godforsaken pilot who coaxed Pixy into it.

Cipher had been highly concerned with the garbled speech he heard between Joshua Bristow and Larry Foulke. It was like a villain seducing the hero’s best friend to run away with them. Jealousy and anger burned inside the Galm Team leader whenever he thought about it.

He secretly hoped that man was dead, after all he did exploit his… former wingman.

Former wingman. Calling Pixy that made Cipher feel worse. Perhaps if Pixy stayed by his side until the very end, he wouldn’t feel the dampness of tears and trembling hands he felt right now. He wouldn’t believe Pixy to be dead because of him.

Cipher needed a break, perhaps a permanent one. He needed a drink, a smoke, or a pill… Or maybe a thorough shower, a decent sleep, or a hearty meal. Anything to cope with loss, he’d accept.

Slowly, he finally raised the canopy and rose from the seat of his jet. He climbed out and down from the cockpit, backing away from the plane. He loved his jet, but he knew he couldn’t keep doing this to himself.

Cipher turned around and walked away, sure that he was done flying and destined to go get lost.

Chapter Text

February 2005, 10 years later…

Port Edwards, Usea.

The ISAF forces were turning the tide of the war. Why Cipher was in Usea, in the middle of a war spanning the entire continent, was beyond his own thought process. In his decade since he quit flying, he never found a permanent place he could call ‘home.’ Perhaps it was paranoia that someone would recognize him, or the fact he wasn’t the best at blending in with society.

It was hard to coexist with others when inside him somewhere was a literal demon.

Or was it that he couldn’t find the perfect place? Either way, it felt like he’d been on the run for 10 years. What was he running from, his past? Himself?  He was surely trying to.

It was lightly raining, and Cipher was walking--with a rather brisk pace--to return to his current home, a tiny flat in downtown Port Edwards. The hood of his camouflage jacket covered his black hair and pale face from the assaulting drops of water, slightly chilly as it typically is in a rain shower. He never went on sorties in the rain…

No, not a sortie. He hasn’t flown in 10 years, and he didn’t intend to return to it.

A rumble slowed down Cipher’s footsteps, and he looked up from his water-resistant boots. Coming down the street in the opposite direction was a tank and a gaggle of ground troops. ISAF markings. Perhaps they were just passing through Port Edwards on their way to the front-lines. They did just liberate the city a week or two ago.

Cipher could vaguely remember when Port Edwards was under Erusean control. He didn’t leave his place very often, but he remembered the troops in the streets and roars of passing Erusean jets. It didn’t do any good for his mental state, but now that the Eruseans were gone, he didn't need to worry about it. In fact, he remembered meeting a fellow former mercenary ace who went by ‘Phoenix’ and-

“Hey Cipher, I didn’t think I’d see you out in this weather.”

Jumping a little, it was unsettling how the thought of his acquaintance prompted his presence, stopping to say hi. How did Phoenix just suddenly appear like that, and how’d he recognize him? Cipher must’ve not been paying attention, locked up in his thoughts. Phoenix must’ve recognized him from his jacket, the only one he had. Cipher looked at Phoenix, unnerved, and found himself unable to reply. The latter gave him a friendly smile,

“Did I scare you? Sorry,” he said, “I overheard some information you might find interesting while I was at the bar the other day. It’s from ISAF’s members themselves.”

Cipher blinked and pondered. Should he listen? Did he care so much for what was going on in the world outside his little flat? It might hurt Phoenix’s feelings to not accept it, especially if he claimed he might find it interesting…  Cipher shrugged internally, to himself, and rose an eyebrow, prompting Phoenix to share his intel,

“I heard recently that they’ve got themselves a pretty good ace. He’s pretty young to be one. He goes by Mobius 1.”

Oh. So Cipher wasn’t the only one who had, at some point, devilish piloting abilities. His expression turned puzzled, and Phoenix lightly chuckled,

“Yeah, I had the same reaction. I guess there’s pilots like us in every generation. I also heard Mobius’ training with some other former mercenary.”

Some other former mercenary, that wasn’t him or Phoenix? Now that was truly puzzling to Cipher. How many former mercs existed out there? Cipher could only think of… two. Himself and Phoenix. But Mobius wasn’t being trained by either of them. Then who? Processing Phoenix’s intel short-circuited Cipher’s dense mind.

“Well, Cipher, I have to get going. Get home safe!”

And just like that, Phoenix disappeared around the block. He’s a strange guy, Cipher thought, but he didn’t have anything against the other merc. What he said got Cipher thinking, who was this ‘Mobius 1’, and who was the pilot training him? Could they be stationed at the airport here in Port Edwards?

Cipher noticed the rain appeared to let up. Was this a sign to look into it, perhaps, to find out who the ace and his mentor are? He’d never been this interested in a mystery such as this before. He never typically bothered to learn who people are, but something about the two Phoenix mentioned… It was certainly information Cipher found interesting.

He decided he’d check out the airport, he’d see if ISAF was stationing some of their fighters there. Cipher thought he’d never approach an airport again after arriving in Usea, but he was drawn to his new mission. He started down the road again, even breaking into a little dash down the pale, concrete sidewalk. He might’ve looked like a psycho running down the street like that, but he wasn’t one to disappoint on a mission, he never had been.

The light wind blew his hood off his head as he sprinted, but Cipher didn’t stop to fix it. Internally, he felt like he had an estimated time-over-target he had to meet, or the operation would be a failure. The only reason he would have to hurry, however, is if he didn’t want to miss the possibility of seeing… A fighter jet.

That was strange, Cipher dashing to see a fighter jet. He hadn’t cared to see one in a decade, and yet he was running through the streets of Port Edwards hoping to see one. He ran through overgrown grass and over patches of rocks and gravel, and swiftly crossed one-lane roads for cars to pull up to the airport.

He was just in time to reach Port Edwards’ airport, walking up to the fence topped with barbed wire meant to keep people from approaching the runways and taxiways. That’s where Cipher saw, and heard it. The gorgeous F-22A with an obscure black and blue ribbon insignia on it’s tail lining up with the runway. Could that be Mobius? He’d have to look in the news to double-check.

Plugging his ears to the best of his abilities, Cipher watched its afterburners flair. The jet rocketed down the runway, and he breathlessly saw it climb into the deep, dark blue.

Chapter Text

Following the takeoff pattern, Mobius kept his gloved hand on the stick installed in the right-hand panel of his jet’s cockpit. His other hand rested on the throttle, pushed to the max as he climbed into the sky. The visor of his helmet reflected the cerulean of the sky and the blotches of white, fluffy clouds. He turned his head, left and right, scanning the blue kingdom his aircraft was welcomed into.

Mobius removed his hand from the throttle, reaching for and lifting the lever that controlled the landing gear. As he went faster and higher, the jet tucked the landing gear away, protecting it from the effects of skillful flying. His radio transceiver crackled to life as he pulled his hand away from the landing gear switch,

“Mobius 1, this is Galm 2. Are you ready to practice?”

Galm 2, “Solo Wing” Pixy. Mobius considered him the reason he was such a skilled pilot. The Belkan War veteran had taken him under his wing, literally, and contributed to the way he fought and flew. He glanced out to the blue speck on his IFF that read ‘FRIEND’,

“Affirmative, let’s begin.”

Mobius sped up to join with Pixy, during which he switched his IFF and the other no longer appeared as an ally. Of course, he’d never actually fire upon his mentor, but getting radar locks always helped him practice getting good angles. With the blaring of the radar lock, he darted past Pixy, rolling his plane to turn.

Now the game was on.

Pixy slammed the throttle of his F-15 forward, pursuing after the F-22. An unfortunate move for Mobius, as it didn’t take long for the veteran to be behind him. He knew he needed to shake off his chaser. Pushing his craft to the limits, Mobius shoved the stick forward and to the left, diving and rolling.

He breathed heavily through the forces on his body, not responding to the soft curse from Pixy he heard through the radio. As Mobius pulled out of the dive and roll, however, he heard no tones. Had Pixy decided not to follow his maneuver? He hadn’t looked down at his radar to check. With a tiny glance, he saw Pixy was soaring in the opposite direction, and he turned his plane up and to the right.

Pixy looked to his own, watching Mobius’ arrow icon turning to point toward himself, and he replied in the same fashion. He watched the hostile mark on his IFF getting closer, now that he had a visual on his “target.”

“Those who survive a long time on the battlefield start to think they’re invincible.”

Something about soaring right at his “enemy”…

“I bet you do too, Buddy.”

He looked around the cockpit of the Morgan. Everything was gray, except for the red mark on his aircraft’s IFF, and how it was marked with the name ‘CIPHER.’ There was no reply from the approaching aircraft. Typical, Cipher wasn’t one to talk much. Had he ever heard him speak?

They were flying right at each other, their movements unflinching, even at the possibility of either of them being the first one to open fire. Pixy never originally thought it’d come down to this. Cipher, his Buddy, his wingman, his flight lead, silent as ever approaching him on the battlefield. But he wasn’t approaching him as an ally,

No, he was here to shoot him down and stop the V2. As much as Pixy had a terrible feeling in his gut as he watched Cipher get closer, he was too stubborn to let his good friend stop the plan.

He gripped his flight controls, yet winced at the blaring of both his radar lock and tone, and when he glanced up, he saw the blue and gray of Mobius’ plane soaring right over him,

“Jeez, Pixy, we were both probably dead there!”

He heard over the radio as his F-15 slightly rocked with the gust of Mobius flying by him. Pixy quietly blinked and rapidly shook his head. That’s right, he was in his F-15, not the Morgan. He came to realize that he’d been holding his breath, and heaved a few huffs before replying to his apprentice,

“Yeah, sorry… I got caught up, Cipher…”

Cipher? Since when did Cipher still fly, and with him? Pixy was too unnerved by his mind to catch his small mistake. Was he in a proper condition to fly anymore? He had training to do, but it wouldn’t go well if he couldn’t fly,

“… Cipher?”

Pixy stiffened in his seat as Mobius’ voice brought light to his slip-up. He felt bad and panicked a little at the same time. Calling his apprentice his old friend’s name? He definitely didn’t feel like he should be up in the air now anymore,

“Mobius, I meant Mobius, shit…”

“Pixy, status report? Should we put off today’s training?”

Should they? His head was starting to ache. Was it what he just witnessed, or was he falling ill and sensitive to the radar tones as a result? Either way, he started to think Mobius was right. If he couldn’t put up a fight, mock or not, he shouldn’t be up in the air. They shouldn’t be training. Or at least, he shouldn’t be training him. Pixy heaved a small sigh and glanced at Mobius’ arrow tailing behind him,

“I don’t think I should be flying…” he murmured the reply, flying at a slow cruise and watching Mobius’ jet catch up with him,

“We’ll call it off,” Mobius informed through the radio, “and go home and rest.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to miss out on training…”

“Training helps a little, but it doesn’t if my mentor isn’t up-to-par.”

Such a smart kid, Pixy thought. There wouldn’t be anything he could say to convince Mobius to keep flying while he grounded himself. His apprentice was attached to him at the hip. He quietly smiled to himself. Mentoring Mobius gave him purpose, when he thought he’d lost it long ago. Pixy turned his plane back toward the airport,

“Alright, let’s get down from here…”

Chapter Text

Cipher heard the growing noise of jets and looked out to the horizon. It was the very same F-22 he watched take off, was it back already? There was a second jet coming in behind it. That must’ve been the first plane’s wingman. Both of them must’ve had a rapid sortie… Cipher remembered when some of his missions were over within moments of starting.

He started to feel a little lightheaded.

The roaring of the jet engines got ever louder, but even as Cipher moved to block his ears from the harmfully loud sounds, it sounded even more powerful. The skirt of tires touching the paved runway felt more ear-piercing than the engines. He felt a pit in his stomach that told him he needed to leave.

Cipher swallowed hard, his dizziness getting worse. Tires once again touched the runway, and when he looked to the second plane, his mind malfunctioned. A near-blur of gray and a flash of red on its right wing. It couldn’t be. That was Pixy’s F-15, he hadn’t seen it in a decade. There was no way Pixy was alive, Cipher killed him over Avalon Dam 10 years ago, hadn’t he?

ISAF must’ve bought the jet, and simply forgot to repaint it. Or was Cipher hallucinating?

Whichever it was, Cipher couldn’t wrap his panicking head around it. The former ace tried to move, he stumbled. The corners of his vision were going dark, and all he could hear was the taxiing jets. He turned to leave in a rush and lost his balance. All of Cipher’s senses blacked-out as the ground spun and rushed up to meet him.

…

Cipher woke up atop a few cushions, with a light blanket covering him. Where was he, and when did he get here? His head still ached and his face hurt, but it wasn’t raging like it was earlier. He glanced around a dimly lit room, and came to recognize it as his own living room. Cipher was laying on his couch. Who brought him here?

There was a sizzling noise from his kitchen. Whoever found him hadn’t left his apartment.

“Cipher, you’re awake,” he immediately recognized the sudden voice as Phoenix’s, “are you okay?”

So Phoenix found him. But why, and how? Cipher was fairly certain that he was alone at the airport fence. Maybe he wanted to see the aircraft as well, and found him there. But how long was Cipher out to end up at home?

“... Yeah, I’m fine.” He mumbled, sitting up a little. Cipher winced, feeling that it was more than his head that ached. His knee and parts of his arms burned, he must’ve skinned his limbs when he hit the ground,

“I hope you don’t mind me sticking around,” Phoenix said, “I couldn’t bring myself to just leave you alone here.” He flipped a slice of bread coated in a mixture of milk and eggs in one of Cipher’s few pans, it smelled lovely… It alerted Cipher to the fact he was hungry. Phoenix then glanced at him, “I found out more information about Mobius 1,” he mentioned, “it seems you want to know about him.”

“Tell me,” Cipher pressed, “I saw his plane earlier.”

“Oh, you got to see his plane? Nice,” Phoenix commented, and leaked his intel, “there’s a café here in town that he frequents with his little brother. If you’re looking to meet him, your best chance is there.” 

Cipher quickly shot up from the couch, quietly hissing through his teeth at the pain caused from moving. A place he could meet Mobius, and not just witness his plane in action? He had questions for the ace, he found himself wanting to meet him. Is this how others felt about him, when he flew the Belkan skies?

Why would they care about the ruthless mercenary he once was?

Cipher dismissed the thought, deeming it irrelevant. He had to find this café, preferably before the ace got stationed elsewhere, or the war ended. He was afraid he’d never get the chance to if he hesitated,

“What’s it called?”

“The café?”

“Yes,”

“It’s called the Skyfaring Café.”

The Skyfaring Café. Cipher’s sure he’s seen it while walking around town before. It wasn’t far from Port Edwards’ airport. Perhaps Mobius liked going there for a break after returning from a mission. That’s reasonable, Cipher thought. There was a good pub near the base he was stationed at that he’d go to with Pixy during the Belkan War…

He missed Pixy so damn much, even if he broke his heart.

With an internal sigh, Cipher hobbled over to grab his camo coat,

“You’re planning on going already?” Phoenix asked, to which Cipher could only nod in response. The other tsk’d, “Alright… I’ll just eat this Erusean toast and I’ll be gone.” he promised, knowing Cipher liked the solitude of his place being empty.

Cipher waved goodbye and hurried out the door. He was headed for the café. If it hasn’t been long since he saw Mobius’ plane, then maybe Mobius would--or still would--be there. Ignoring the discomfort of his clothes against the injuries he sustained from fainting, he shuffled down the streets.

Making it to the Skyfaring Café, he glanced around before pulling open the door and walking inside. There were a few people sitting at tables or in line to order. It wasn’t like him, but he joined the line. He might as well order something, so he didn’t look strange waiting for a certain person to show up.

The line moved swiftly, and Cipher realized he hadn’t been looking at the menu, but instead the door. When he was up, he picked something on a whim--a simple, medium-roasted coffee--and anxiously placed his order, paying and finding his way to a vacant table all the way in the back. He sat there alone, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Cipher silently sipped at the drink, keeping his eyes down. His other senses, however, were on high alert. The bell on the door rang as customers came and went, and Cipher eventually began to wonder if he’d been too late to catch the pilot. He’d ended up counting the number of times he heard the bell ring.

That is, until the door opened and the atmosphere of the café changed noticeably, and Cipher glanced up to see who entered.

Chapter Text

“Mobius 1, good to see you! Welcome in!”

The baristas greeted the young man entering the café. He still donned both his flight and g-suit, and carried his helmet—tucked under his arm. Around his legs waddled a small boy carrying a fluffy wolf plush. With a grin, Mobius waved to them, but he certainly felt like something was off. There was a strange air within the café, similar to the one he felt when he was around Pixy…

No, this presence was even stronger than Pixy’s. Mobius glanced down at the boy accompanying him,

“Don’t wander off, now…” he murmured to him as they strolled further into the building,

“Big bro, can I get a brownie this time?” The boy looked up at him, his brown eyes full and bright,

“Of course you can, Trigger.” Mobius nodded with a smile. His little brother was a well-behaved boy, usually, and he always got a little treat whenever they went to the Skyfairing Café. It was endearing how Trigger refused to go by his actual name, but rather his made-up callsign. It made him feel cool, like Mobius was.

Trigger followed close to Mobius as they joined the line. The ace looked up at the menus, thinking he ought to try something new. Pixy had also requested that they bring him back something. Mobius glanced down at his brother,

“Trigger, do you wa-”

Trigger wasn’t around his legs anymore.

In a panic, Mobius spun around and scanned the café for him. His eyes finally landed on the boy, but not before the kid was wandering up to a stranger. Seeing no one was behind him, Mobius quickly shuffled out of line, hurrying after his brother,

“Trigger..!” he exclaimed, reaching out and gently gripping the boy’s small arm. As Trigger made a little squeak, Mobius’ gaze rose to the stranger, and that’s when it hit him. Something about this person radiated mysterious, deadly energy--the same as the energy he felt when flying against a tough opponent--and the mild bruising and cuts on his face only continued to hint that he was a fighter,

“I-I’m sorry about him, he’s a handful…” Mobius stammered to the stranger. He attempted to retain his bearing when the man’s pale, piercing eyes silently lifted to meet his own. Observing nothing but an uncanny, enigmatic indifference in those eyes, Mobius was compelled to ask, “sir, are you a fighter yourself?”

His question seemed to stir something within the stranger, a look of puzzled discomfort came across his face. Mobius wondered if he used to be one, was the question sensitive to the other and he didn’t know it? The unease didn’t quite let up as he anticipated the man’s answer,

“... A fighter? Not anymore.” His voice--and consequently, his answer--was quiet, nearly hesitant. He fiddled with a coffee cup in his hands, staring at it for a moment before returning a question of his own, “You’re Mobius 1, right..?”

Mobius began to let his guard down. As strange as this guy seemed, he didn’t appear to be a threat to himself or Trigger. He nodded in reply,

“Yes, that’s me, and you are?”

“Just a Demon… My name’s irrelevant.” he said cryptically, with a shrug of his shoulders,

“Demon..?” Trigger looked up at the stranger he had been approaching before Mobius stopped him, “Hi Demon, my name’s Trigger.” The boy then gestured to the plush in his arms, “This is Wolfie! He’s my best friend.”

Trigger’s innocence elicited the tiny curve of the man’s lips into a smile. He didn’t appear bothered at all being addressed as ‘Demon’ by the kid. Mobius guessed he’d have to follow along with the nickname until he revealed his name to them, that is, if they ran into each other again or he ever mentions his name.

“This is strange to ask but, may you keep an eye on him while I get our drinks?” He asked of ‘Demon’, to which he nodded quietly. Mobius uttered a soft ‘thank you’ and went to rejoin the line. Little Trigger looked over and watched his brother join the queue.

“Trigger, how do you feel about your brother’s work?” The man asked the kid,

“It’s so cool! His plane goes like, nyoom! I want to be just like that,” Trigger answered cheerfully, his face lighting up and his voice high with excitement, “and Wolfie says he’s gonna sit with me when we fly! Did you used to fly, Mister Demon?”

“I… I guess I did. A long time ago.”

“Was Demon your flying name?”

“... It was a nickname. Demon Lord.” He added the other part. The man internally winced as he spoke his old nickname that his Belkan adversaries gave him. But it would forever be a name stuck with him, no matter what,

“Demon Lord…” Trigger regurgitated the name, “My dad says he knew someone like that.” 

“Oh..?” The person sat up straighter, appearing bewildered that someone knew his nickname. He was silent, registering what the kid said to him. So much so, he didn’t notice Mobius walking up with a couple drinks and a tiny bag,

“I apologize, and we’d rather stay and talk, but we need to get going.” Mobius spoke up. He fiddled with the small bag, maneuvering the bag around his fingers and lowering it down to Trigger’s height, “Here, Trigger, it’s your brownie…” he handed the boy the bag,

“Do we really have to go?” Trigger looked up at Mobius as he grasped the bag, “Mister Demon has cool stories!” he said, more interested in what the stranger had to say. Mobius glanced at him,

“I bet you do…” he said, “If you don’t mind, we can talk more if we meet each other on the street or something?” Mobius asked, to which ‘Demon’ nodded. A small smile grew on Mobius’ face, and he returned the nod, “Okay, we’ll see you around, err, Demon.”

“Goodbye Mister Demon!” Trigger squeaked. The kid scampered off and around his big brother’s legs as the two headed for the exit, and disappeared into the streets of Port Edwards.

The man left behind at the table sipped his coffee in mild disappointment, he wasn’t able to ask his many questions, but at least he managed to encounter Mobius 1--and his brother Trigger.

Chapter Text

2 Weeks Later,

Cipher’s Apartment…

Cipher looked around at the sky, the hills, the mountains. It had been six months since he last saw combat. Since he last saw Pixy… He glanced out the cockpit glass, to his right, to the F-16C that replaced his missing wingman. PJ. The young Osean had just helped him shoot down one of the largest flying machine’s he’d ever seen, the Hresvelgr.

“Huh? There’s a coded message on the radio. Decrypting message…”

PJ’s voice crackled his transceiver to life. Cipher looked away, back out to the scenery around their jets as they flew back toward their heavily damaged base. Something was telling him he knew what was coming next, what the message PJ was decrypting said,

“Uh… ‘Yo, Buddy, still alive?’”

A beat of silence. Uncomfortable silence. They knew who it was…

“It’s-!”

Cipher’s sleeping form jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat. When his eyes popped open, the sunlight racing through the barely-open window blinds struck them, causing him to wince and shut his eyes. Apprehensive to the sunlight, Cipher slowly reopened his eyes. He was in his room, in his bed. There were no hills, no mountains, and no dogfighting.

His body felt uncomfortably cold and damp. He slowly sat up, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding until he released it. Cipher took a few more breaths. He was here, alive, conscious and in the present. Just an awful dream, he thought as he pushed himself out of bed. He trudged to his bathroom, grabbing a cloth and wiping off his face.

Cipher caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His black hair was a mess, and a little longer than he remembered. His face was scruffy, he didn’t remember when the last time he shaved was, and had healed since he fainted by the airport except for a couple cuts. He stared at the reflection of himself. No wonder they called him the Demon Lord, Cipher thought, although no one knows what the Demon Lord looked like.

He did know for sure that he was overdue for a few things. He decided he’d take care of it later.

Cipher internally sighed and set down the cloth, walking out of the bathroom. He stretched and yawned. It was just another sleepy, quiet morning for him. He waddled to his couch and pressed the power button on his small TV’s remote,

“—and up next is Brett Thompson’s new documentary, Warriors and the Belkan War.”

He didn’t look excited. Cipher heard the documentary released a week ago, and Phoenix kept pressing him to watch it--just once. He didn’t know why the other ex-merc wanted him to watch it so bad. Was it because he was a Belkan War veteran? Phoenix should know what those memories do to him…

Cipher closed his eyes for a moment. He thought he’d try to fall back asleep while the program played in the background, that is, until he heard a voice all too familiar to him,

“Oh, him? Yeah, I know him. It's going to take a while… It happened years ago. Did you know… there are three kinds of aces?”

Cipher opened his eyes, unable to ignore the familiarity of the voice, and he completely froze when he saw the man on the screen,

“Those who seek strength. Those who live for pride. And those who can read the tide of battle. Those are the three. And him… He was a true ace.”

That was Pixy on the screen. Cipher was sure of it. He rubbed his dreary eyes and blinked, wondering maybe he was seeing things, or mistaking the man on the screen for someone else. Cipher was also sure that he killed Pixy years ago. If that was indeed Pixy on his screen, who was he talking about? Better yet, where was he? Where, where, where…

“He's a fighter pilot they call "Solo Wing Pixy." He was a colleague of the man I seek…”

So that was Pixy. Pixy was alive. On Cipher’s screen. Wait, was this a documentary about him? Someone cared so much about his story that they dug up his former wingman and interviewed him.

Why?

That’s all Cipher could think. And how, too. He hadn’t realized it, but seeing Pixy on the screen put him on the edge of his seat. Is this why Phoenix wanted him to see this documentary? Because it was about him, and told by those who fought against him? His body felt shaky, and when he tore his gaze down to himself, he was trembling.

The documentary audio drew his eyes back to the screen like a magnet. Where was Pixy? His mind couldn’t stop asking the question. It wanted to know where he was. Keeping on the edge of his seat, his breath occasionally being held, Cipher was glued to the documentary, although he didn’t particularly care that it was about himself.

“Will he see this video? If you do meet him, give him a message for me,”

He watched Pixy offer the camera a grin. A grin he used to know so well…

“Yo, buddy, still alive? And thanks, friend. See you again.”

‘See you again’? Did Cipher hear that correctly? He wasn’t sure, there were tears streaming down his face and his attention had been fading in and out. He failed to hear the last few comments of the documentary, not that it mattered to him. Did Pixy want to meet him again? It certainly felt like it, with his last message appearing to be a contact attempt.

Cipher heard his K600 phone buzz on the table next to him, and wiping his face and tears, he grabbed the phone as if it were Pixy texting or calling him. But when he read the notification on the screen, it was a message from Phoenix,

‘Hey, you should come to the bar tonight. I’m bringing someone you should meet.’

He knew he couldn’t deny Phoenix. His friend has been nothing but helpful, giving him information to meet Mobius 1. Cipher heaved a shaky breath,

‘Fine. I’ll be there.’

He then forced himself off the couch. He had things to do before his rendezvous at the bar.

Chapter Text

Cipher ran over his freshly-cut hair and rubbed his clean-shaven jawline with his fingers, glancing at himself in his bathroom mirror. He’d spent the day taking care of his appearance, something he typically didn’t care much about until now. Now he nearly looked like he hadn’t aged in the decade since he quit flying.

Who was he planning on impressing? He didn’t know, but it was better than looking like he never left the bar in the first place.

His phone buzzed on the bathroom counter. Cipher glanced down to read the message,

‘Where are you at?’

Sent by Phoenix. Was he late to the meet-up? Cipher quickly peeked out of the bathroom, his eyes darting to the clock on his bedside drawer. The time was 17:48. The meet-up was scheduled for around 18:00. He swallowed, realizing he ought to get going soon,

‘I’ll be there soon.’

He answered the text and left the bathroom, grabbing his camo coat and pulling it on as he got out the door. It’s been a while since he’s gone out and enjoyed the nightlife, Cipher thought, hopefully Phoenix would make accepting the invitation worthwhile. He didn’t doubt it.

…

Cipher was silent and scanned the club as the door closed behind him. He went around, seeking out the ace who invited him here, until he heard his voice,

“Over here, Ciph’!"

He gravitated toward the sound, over to the bar where Phoenix sat. He was alone? Cipher thought he was bringing someone with him. With his hand cupped around a glass of dark liquid, Phoenix lowly whistled and teased,

“Cipher, are you looking to pick someone up tonight? You got yourself all cleaned up.”

Cipher ignored and avoided his friend’s banter,

“Where’s the person you were bringing?”

“He’s not here yet. He said he might be a little late,” Phoenix said with a shrug, “come sit.”

Cipher joined his friend at the bar. Phoenix passed him a laminated paper--the menu--and he scanned it. It was a list of that night’s specialty drinks. He picked out something that sounded rather pleasant, the name on the menu was ‘One Over Zero.’

Over their drinks, Cipher recounted his encounter with Mobius 1 to an eager Phoenix, who’d been wanting to hear about it since he told him about the Skyfairing Café. When his bloodstream filled with enough of the substance in his glass, the sights and sounds of the bar were beginning to blur, and Cipher’s thoughts began to spill out as incoherent mumbling.

And that’s when Phoenix’s other guest walked in.

“Yo, you two having fun without me?”

“Your Buddy definitely is,” Phoenix answered with laughter, “he’s got himself hammered while we were waiting on you.”

Cipher’s hand twitched by his drink, his head down on the bar. He looked like he made himself miserable.

“My Buddy?”

“Yeah, Pixy. I saw your documentary a week or so ago,” Phoenix said, “I never knew it was you that Cipher used to know.” He gestured to the inebriated man beside him. Pixy’s eyes drifted to him, studying him, and grew wide with realization. 

Phoenix had invited him to meet his old Buddy.

Pixy eye’d the other spot at the bar next to Cipher, it was empty. He slid onto the stool, facing his former wingman. Leaning closer, he lightly touched the drunken ace on the forearm,

“Yo, Buddy, you alright…?”

A garbled response emitted from Cipher. He slowly sat up from the bar, glancing toward Pixy. The exhausted look on his face made the ISAF fighter’s heart sink. He didn’t remember Cipher being a sad, sleepy drunk. The last time he saw him drunk was after they’d liberated Ustio together,

“No one’s called me Buddy… in a long--time…” Some of Cipher’s words blended together when he spoke. Phoenix slowly rose from his seat, yet he was caught by Pixy’s attention. He walked by them, leaning in and murmuring,

“Enjoy your date, you two.”

“Hey-! Where are you going?” Pixy called after Phoenix, but to no avail. The pilot was ditching him and his intoxicated former wingman--who he hadn’t seen or spoken to in 10 years. Pixy glanced back at Cipher, who was staring back at him,

“You--you look like someone I used to know…” Cipher uttered. Pixy swallowed the lump in his throat, deciding he’d stay with Cipher. He couldn’t just abandon him in this state, and besides, he wanted to be with him again anyway. He’d missed him so much…

“Buddy, it’s me. Pixy, Galm 2, your wingman.” Pixy told him. The other man didn’t reply, a wandering, thoughtful look on his plastered face,

“No… You can’t be,” he finally answered, “he’s dead. I--killed him, 10 years ago…” Cipher shook his head with exaggeration. Pixy frowned, so Cipher’s been living all this time thinking he was dead, from the dogfight they had? He thought for a moment,

“You’ll see when you wake up tomorrow, Buddy…” he said. Pixy glanced around until his eyes landed on a clock on the wall. It was getting late, and although he hadn’t been there long, Cipher certainly had. He thought he ought to take his wingman home, “We should get going home, Cipher.”

Cipher didn’t object to leaving the bar, much to Pixy’s appreciation. As he rose from the seat, he noticed Phoenix paid the tab. He didn’t have to worry about it. But he did have to worry about Cipher’s wobbling as he tried getting up,

“Here, climb on my back, Buddy. I’ll carry you…” Pixy offered, turning away from Cipher. His former flight lead continued to be compliant, and he helped him climb up and rest on his back. “Jeez, Buddy, you’re lighter than I remember.” he muttered. After ensuring Cipher was secure on him, he headed out of the bar with him.

Cipher occasionally mumbled unintelligible sentences as Pixy walked with him to his place. He didn’t know where Cipher lived, so he’d have to stay with him for now.

Pixy closed the front door behind them as he carried Cipher inside, but not before having to unlock and open it.

“Alright, Buddy, here you go…” Pixy coaxed Cipher off of his back and shoulders. Cipher was quick to crawl into the bed without much thought, if his hammered mind could even think. Telling himself it was just for the night, Pixy got Cipher to remove his coat, and tucked part of the covers around the other like a cocoon.

As he disappeared for a moment to ready himself for bed, Cipher quietly dozed off to sleep. Pixy returned to the snoozing ex-flight lead and smiled to himself. He was careful to slide into the bed beside him, keeping his brown eyes on him for a moment before closing them,

“I’ll see you in the morning, Buddy…”

Chapter Text

Cipher woke up to a pounding headache and the strange, light strumming of a guitar. He groaned softly, nudging his face against the pillow beneath his head. It smelled different from his own pillow… He wasn’t in his own bed. Where was he? He stirred in the sheets and slowly opened his eyes.

His eyes wandered at what he could see without sitting up. The whole other side of a bed larger than his own, a bedside table unlike his own, there was even a larger closet in the wall. Heck, the bed he rested on was quite comfortable… He was lucky his hangover hadn’t made him throw up yet.

Cipher decided to get up and find out where he was. All he remembered was walking into the bar with Phoenix and speaking about meeting Mobius 1, was he at Phoenix’s place? As he got up, however, he felt his stomach revolt. His body determined it was time for payback for last night’s choices, now that he was awake.

He rushed to the bathroom connected to the bedroom, suffering a horrible burning in his throat as he ended up hurling any stomach contents into the toilet. Cipher felt bad for whoever’s bathroom this was, that he had to use it like this. He keeled over the bowl, squeezing his eyes shut and mouthing a few soft curses to himself.

“There, there…”

A sudden voice spooked Cipher. He must’ve not heard the approaching footsteps, and he soon noticed the guitar strumming had stopped. He lifted his head, glancing over as whoever was there set a glass--full of water--on the bathroom counter. The hands, the sleeves, the jacket the person wore looked very familiar. And then Cipher looked at their face,

“Here’s some water for you, Buddy.”

Cipher opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was probably for the better that he was speechless, as his throat still burned. An abrupt flood of emotions that he’d kept bottled up for so long rippled and threatened to spill over. It was Pixy, Larry Foulke, Galm 2, whatever other names he had that Cipher remembered,

“Pixy…” his name burst out of Cipher as a sob. It stung his throat to speak, but he needed assurance that he was really there. The hangover was very real, but he wasn’t sure Pixy was,

“Yo, Buddy,” the other man responded, offering him a tiny, knowing smile, “here, drink up.” He knelt by Cipher, picking up the cup of water and bringing it toward him. Feeling miserable and dehydrated, Cipher took the cup in his slightly-trembling hands, lifting it to his dry lips and taking in the liquid. It was cool, helping to relieve the burning sensation.

Pixy reached behind Cipher, touching his backside before rubbing soothing circles into the clothed skin of his back. Feeling in the moment that he wasn’t sick to his stomach, he set down the glass of water. Cipher gathered a little toilet paper and wiped off his face before slightly twisting his body to half-face Pixy,

“You… you bastard-!” he suddenly shattered, glomping on his former wingman, “I thought you were dead! I thought I--killed you…” Cipher’s voice faltered as he felt Pixy’s arms wrap around him, as he felt him reciprocate the tight hug. Tears pricked Cipher’s eyes, those emotions could no longer be held back.

It felt so surreal, but so real at the same time. To have Pixy alive, in front of him, hugging him back.

“I’m here, Buddy…” Pixy cooed. Cipher buried his face into the other man’s shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to prevent feeling his cheeks dampen as the tears streaked down. He’s cried before, plenty of times, but this was different--he was unable to keep his sobs silent. They were muffled against the material of Pixy’s jacket.

The sounds of sorrow that Cipher made caused Pixy’s heart to sink once more. He’d never heard, nor seen, his former flight lead cry before. Pixy felt like he could’ve--maybe should’ve --tried reaching out to Cipher sooner. But he couldn’t change the inaction of his past, and now he felt regret for leading him to believe he was dead for a whole 10 years.

“Where the--hell have you been..?” Cipher stammered through his sobs, tearing himself away from the hug. Pixy swallowed, initially unable to find the courage to look the man that he betrayed in his eyes,

“I could ask the same to you, Ciph’...” he answered, finally connecting his brown eyes to Cipher’s pale gray. They were red and puffy with his tears, but he could see a swirl of emotion within them. Cipher’s gaze dropped down, and he briefly looked away from him,

“I’ve been nowhere…” he mumbled, slowly reconnecting their eye contact. He’s stopped crying for now. Pixy found himself sort of staring--at Cipher’s face, his hair, his eyes. He looked almost the same as he just barely remembered. He only got to see Cipher’s appearance a couple of times since he met him for the very first time.

“Really?” Pixy asked, “It feels like I’ve been everywhere…” he added a small sigh. Admittedly, he was tired of that feeling. It’s why he decided he’d settle in Port Edwards after ISAF stationed him here. He felt that there would be a lasting peace for him to return to when the Continental War ended. He was sick of war…

“How’d you get here, Buddy,” he questioned again, “to Port Edwards, I mean…”

Cipher only answered with a small shrug. He then turned to flush the toilet, and Pixy remembered why they were both in the bathroom,

“Feeling better, Buddy?”

A quiet nod in response. So he’s gone silent again, Pixy thought as Cipher rose to his feet. He followed suit, watching Cipher take up the glass of water again and shift past him. The other rinsed out his mouth with the last bit of water left in the cup, spitting it out in the sink. Cipher silently looked at Pixy, pointing to the empty glass,

“Need more water?” He guessed, and when Cipher nodded he said, “Let’s go get you some…”

Chapter Text

Pixy was still dumbfounded about how quick he found Cipher, or rather Cipher being brought to him, since being interviewed about him. They sat on opposing couches in Pixy’s living room. Cipher’s eyes were fixed on the glass of water in his hands, while Pixy couldn’t help but gawk at him. Seeing and feeling Cipher’s presence after so long was akin to a divine vessel attempting to contact him. It felt unreal.

He blinked, and there Cipher was, sitting on the top bunk of their room in the barracks. He was deep into a book, his pale skin covered up by his flight suit and helmet. Pixy pondered how his flight lead could be comfortable with that device on his head all the time. He also wondered, what did Cipher look like?

“Yo, Buddy, you comfortable like that?” Pixy called over to him, from where he sat at the little desk munching away at some food he picked up earlier, “You could at least take off your helmet and let your head breathe.”

Cipher’s head tilted in a quizzing fashion, but Pixy could tell he was considering, watching him set the book down and hold his spot in it with his socked foot. He finally gave in, reaching and pulling up the object that kept his identity a secret. Subconsciously, Pixy turned to face him as he revealed his face.

Pale gray eyes blinked at him as Cipher tousled and fixed his short, black hair. So this is what Galm 1 looked like, Pixy thought in awe that Cipher truly decided to show him his face. His flight lead raised an eyebrow at him, and mouthed a simple question,

‘Happy?’

“Very…” Pixy replied without much thought. A light blush quickly spread upon his face, “I-I mean, I’m just lookin’ out for you, Buddy.” He added. The amused curving of Cipher’s features told him all he needed to know, that he appreciated it.

“Uhh, you two? What’s going on here?”

Mobius’ sudden voice pulled Pixy back into his living room, and he realized that he’d been staring at Cipher. And the other must’ve caught on, because those same pale eyes were staring back into his soul in silence. Pixy looked over at Mobius, standing there with little Trigger at his legs again, but he could still feel Cipher’s piercing gaze on him,

“Mister Demon came to visit!”

Trigger abandoned his place by Mobius’ legs and waddled over to Cipher, only then did Pixy feel his gaze leave him,

“Hello again, Trigger…”

“Pixy?” Mobius questioned again, “What’s going on?”

Pixy glanced at Cipher and Trigger, then looked back at Mobius, “Well… This is Cipher, my old Buddy… We ran into each other again last night.”

Mobius’ eyes shifted to Cipher, who was now joined on the couch by Trigger. He was analyzing the brief explanation, which didn’t entirely answer the question, but he could likely draw conclusions. His eyes lit in curiosity, 

“Demon, you’re the Demon Lord? As in the Cipher Pixy talked about in the interview?”

Cipher was quiet, as if he was determining what to say. He slowly drew his gaze to Mobius, and nodded, “... I suppose I am, aren’t I?”

Trigger, with Wolfie in his lap, looked up at Cipher. The kid’s short legs swung as they dangled off the couch cushion,

“Yeah, dad talks a lot about a ‘Cipher’... Can Mister Demon stay with us? He has cool stories!”

As Cipher’s eyebrow raised in intrigue, Pixy glanced at him. He slightly flinched as their eyes simultaneously met. Cipher’s emotions were masked within his sharp eyes, and he couldn’t decipher what he might be thinking. He swallowed quietly and asked, “Do you want to stay?”

“I--I guess I can stay...” Cipher answered with a small shrug, and an excited squeal emitted from Trigger,

“Tell me the stories!” Trigger pressed, “Wolfie says he wants to hear, too!”

“Well…” Cipher wasn’t sure where to begin. He had many experiences, some of which he couldn’t talk about even if he wanted to. A bitter, petty thought intruded his mind, had Pixy ever admitted to breaking his heart all those years ago, when telling Mobius or Trigger a war story?

“I had a good friend a while ago, we enjoyed the skies together. You could say we fought together,” he said as Trigger turned more toward him eagerly, “but one day, he turned his back on me… Attempted to shoot me out of the skies…”

Cipher’s eyes rose to settle on Pixy. He was staring back at him, his lips slightly agape in shock. He knew very well what Cipher was talking about. How could he forget…? A look of regret flashed across Pixy’s face before he disconnected their eyes.

“But you’re so good that he couldn’t beat you, right?” Trigger interjected, his eyes bright with curiosity and admiration, catching Cipher’s attention, “The TV guy said no one could stop you!”

“He never let his prey get away…” A small mumble from Pixy quieted any response Cipher was about to make. Rendered silent, Pixy’s words reclaimed Cipher’s attention. Beats of silence in the room passed before Pixy met Cipher’s gaze, a quiet plea for the Demon Lord’s mercy.

“... Maybe so.” Cipher finally agreed. Pixy released a soft sigh and rose from his spot, catching glances from the other three in the room as he made for his room,

“I’ll be right back…”

Cipher remained silent. Was that too much? Was Pixy trying to get away, as Cipher’s prey? The silence started to hurt. Should he have told a different story?

“You should go after him, Cipher…” Mobius finally broke the silence. He thought on it and slowly got up as he decided,

“What’s wrong?” Trigger asked with an innocent frown. Much to Cipher’s relief, Mobius walked over and took his place to keep his younger brother distracted and entertained, striking up soft conversation with him.

Cipher approached the room, nothing but silence meeting his ears. Anxiousness rose in Cipher’s chest, had he hurt Pixy? As he got closer, he heard a sudden strum of a guitar that made him jump. He pressed himself up against the doorframe as he reached the room, Pixy sat on the bed, playing a soft acoustic melody. 

Cipher got lost in the wordless song, until the music stopped and Pixy spoke,

“Buddy...? Come in...”

Chapter Text

“What was that all for?”

“I never mentioned your name…”

Pixy went quiet, frowning and glancing away. What was making Cipher petty that day? It must’ve been the hangover souring his mood… Or was his guard up due to being in the presence of the one who betrayed him…?

“Buddy, I’ve found a reason to fight.”

Tailing the legendary F-15C in his own, Pixy’s finger pressed against the trigger. He knew his buddy would stand in the way of his newfound belief. His reason to fight. If he took out Cipher now, he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Pixy let his finger push back on the trigger, and shells shot at Cipher’s aircraft.

Cipher’s plane made a sharp turn, out of the fire of his gun. He followed with a grunt against the g-forces, and meddled with his IFF to mark Cipher an adversary. Please don’t make this difficult, Buddy, he thought as he managed to lock onto Cipher,

“Galm 2, what are you doing? That’s not the enemy! Cease fire!”

Pixy shot a missile at Cipher moments before losing his lock-on. He sighed, watching as his flight lead dived and rolled, his afterburners flaring. Cipher could probably outmaneuver everything Pixy threw at him,

“Repeat, Galm 2, cease your attack on our unit at once!”

Pixy stared around, and glanced down at his radar for a moment. He ought to get out of here, to join up with Wizard Squadron. It didn’t matter to him if anyone followed him, he didn’t expect anyone to. Complying just once, he let Cipher slip away alive and threw the throttle forward to flee.

“Galm 2 is leaving the combat airspace! Pixy, what’s going on? Respond!”

He didn’t want to reply to Eagle Eye, but he thought he should leave Cipher a small message. He composed in his mind what he’d say to his flight lead as he ran away, heaving a small sigh,

“This is where we go our separate ways.”

“… You never mentioned you play guitar.”

Pixy blinked, and he was back sitting on the edge of his bed, the instrument in his arms. Cipher wasn’t in his eyesight, but that surely was his voice. Pixy glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his voice--Cipher was laying down in the opposite side of the bed, where he’d slept last night, facing him,

“I guess I didn’t…” he said with a short chuckle and a shrug. Pixy shifted to see Cipher better, he looked curious and less hostile than just moments ago. Still enigmatic as ever, he thought. He couldn’t help but smile a little as he asked, “Do you mind if I… play something for you?”

“I’m listening…” he murmured, yet his eyes closed and he laid his head on the pillow. Pixy nodded and fiddled with the guitar strings until he found the right chords to play. He turned his focus to the instrument, finding himself humming to the tune of the slow, simple song. As he neared the end, he turned back to Cipher with a grin,

“Yo, Buddy, how do y-” he cut himself off, Cipher had fallen asleep. That was quick, Pixy thought as he gazed at him. His strumming had stopped involuntarily.

“Come on Trigger, it’s time for bed!”

Mobius’ voice sounded from down the hall, and a reluctant whine in response made Pixy smile and laugh to himself. Might as well follow suit, he thought, as it was indeed late, and rose from the bed with care not to wake Cipher. Pixy gently propped the instrument in a stand that rested near his bedside drawer.

Looking back toward his bed, he pondered, should he just let Cipher have it? It was likely more comfortable than the one in the guest bedroom. He caught sight of the eased rise and fall of his torso as he slept. A new thought crept into his mind, the sleeping Razgriz. Or at least, something similar to it. Cipher already had his time being the Razgriz, had he not?

“Cipher, I’ve heard stories about you. They say you never let your prey get away.”

Snow flashed past the cockpit and the roar of engines were loud as the newly-established Galm Team soared around the mountains. If it had been a few weeks prior, Pixy would have been confused about the mention of Galm Team or Cipher. He’d never personally met his new flight lead until the morning of their first sortie.

Cipher’s jet was pretty, he noted. The geometric blue on his wings and tail stood out and complemented the gray of the rest of the airframe. It was quite the contrast to the single red wing on his own aircraft. His comment was met with silence, so he wasn’t going to say anything to his new wingman?

A message came across a panel in his cockpit, which merely read, ‘GALM 2 DISPERSE.’ His first order from Cipher. So Cipher was quick to get to work, Pixy thought. He could manage that, hopeful they would get along and work well together. He grinned and responded,

“Pixy, roger, engaging at will.”

Pixy felt the cushion of his bed press against his legs, and he realized he’d moved over to stand against his bed. He sighed internally, he’s had more flashbacks than usual today. It must be Cipher’s presence coaxing his memories back to him… He shook his head and cautiously climbed back into the bed.

He glanced at Cipher’s sleeping form, to his relief he hadn’t roused him. He looked peaceful in his sleep. Perhaps he could do with sharing his bed with his Buddy… Pixy got comfortable beneath the sheets, reaching over and lightly tugging on the chain hanging from the lamp resting on the bedside dresser. The room went dark, and Pixy relaxed his head down on his own pillow,

“Yo, have a good sleep, Buddy…” he murmured and slowly turned away from Cipher. Pixy yawned quietly and shut his brown eyes, drifting off to sleep--not minding his Buddy sleeping on the other side of his bed.

Chapter Text

With the sunlight peeking through the window came the stirring awake of Cipher. He was alone again, and roughly in the middle of the bed. The aching of his hangover was gone, much to his relief. He felt a sliver of a paper-like material rub against his temple when he shifted his head, and he opened his eyes. A little index card blocked part of his vision.

Confused, he sat up and looked at the object. He picked it up, reading the familiar handwriting populating the card,

‘Morning, Buddy. Mobius and I have a mission to go on,

Sorry to leave you here alone with Trigger.

We’ll be back soon.       — Pixy.’

So Cipher would be in charge of the boy while they were away? He froze, fear seizing him as the thought of Trigger getting into danger while he’d been asleep invaded his mind. Scrambling out of the bed, he paused at the sight of his clothes. An interrupting thought pondered that wearing them for so long wasn’t very hygienic.

But he also didn’t have any other clothes here. This was Pixy’s place, not his.

There wasn’t much of a thought process behind his new conclusion to “borrow” a few of Pixy’s clothes.

He dug into Pixy’s wardrobe, settling to change into a random pair of sweatpants and an ISAF hoodie he found. There was hardly a size difference between him and Pixy, the clothing was ever-so-slightly loose--yet it was comfortable. Feeling a little better, he left the room to scout out where Trigger was.

Walking through the hallway, Cipher passed by clusters of framed pictures plastered on the wall. His eyes wandered about the images. There were plenty of them featuring Pixy, Mobius, or Trigger in some fashion. It stood out to Cipher that they were a… family. Pixy managed to score a family, all while Cipher was hopping from place to place, trying to run from-

A picture of him and Pixy on the wall. A picture of their F-15s posed together on the tarmac at Valais Air Base on the wall. A picture of him and Pixy posed with their F-15s in the background on the wall.

Of course, Cipher’s face was blacked out by his flight helmet and mask, but there was no mistaking that those pictures were from… He was frozen in the hallway, gawking at the old photographs while memories came crawling from the depths of Hell-

“Mister Demon!”

A savior. Cipher’s gaze tore away from the pictures, and drifted to see tiny Trigger standing at the end of the hallway. In his hands was a remote for a Wii console. He felt himself exhale a held breath, perhaps it was seeing Trigger had kept himself entertained was a relief.

“Will you play Wii Sports with me?”

“I--uh… Sure.”

Cipher figured he had nothing better to do than play a game with Trigger. Trigger squeaked happily and hurriedly disappeared around the corner, prompting Cipher to follow him. The boy eagerly grabbed a second Wii remote and stretched his arm up to hand it to him. Cipher took the device,

“What sport are we playing?”

“Sword fighting!”

Trigger set up the game, selecting to play the Swordfight Duel gamemode. The round began after they chose a few generic Miis to play as. As the title screen for the round splashed on the screen, Trigger swung his remote around,

“I’m good at this, so watch out!” He provoked Cipher with a smile. The man silently decided that he wouldn’t let Trigger defeat him, and soon they were “fighting” each other head-on--swinging their remotes in attack or frantically blocking each other’s swings.

Something about fighting head-on…

“You’ll have to attack it head-on. Go! Take down Morgan! You’re the only one who can stop him. Demon Lord of the Round Table… I pray for your success!”

Cipher was trembling in his aircraft. Why did it have to come to this…? He was fighting hard, frantically pulling his jet away from the projection of the laser on Pixy’s aircraft. His mind screamed, pleaded, for a different reality than the one he was in right now. A reality where he wasn’t fighting Pixy to the death.

But he couldn’t change anything. He was stuck fighting the best thing he got out of the Belkan War.

“You and I are opposite sides of the same coin,”

Cipher panted and huffed as Pixy spoke over his radio, he failed to hear much else. His traumatized mind tuned out Eagle Eye, tuned out his jet engines, tuned out the constant missile tones in a desperate interest to hear Pixy,

“When we face each other, we can finally see our true selves,”

“There may be a resemblance, but we never face the same direction.”

Cipher’s face turned damp with the falling of tears he’d been holding back. A cry of anguish, of anger, burst out of him as he whipped his plane right at Pixy’s. He was fired up, and he had no choice but to shoot him down.

The feeling of his feet shifting, stumbling, on the carpet of the living room brought him back from the airspace over Avalon Dam. He felt dizzy, and wheezed in fear. The remote slipping from his hand, he found himself sat on a couch, a worried Trigger standing by his legs,

“Mister Demon, are you okay?”

“I think I…” Cipher managed between breaths, “Overexerted myself…” he feigned to Trigger, but the look spreading on the kid’s face was hauntingly knowing. Trigger hopped onto the couch, next to Cipher,

“Dad says he focuses on breathing when he gets all shaky,” he said, and Cipher realized he was indeed trembling, “and he closes his eyes, and he stops shaking! Try it, Mister Demon.”

Perhaps he should… He closed his eyes and focused on easing his breathing, his mind began to count in an obscure way--by 7s or multiples of 5. Cipher felt himself relaxing the more he kept his focus on Trigger’s suggestion. When he reopened his eyes, he felt calmer--his dizziness disappeared--and saw Trigger smile,

“See, it works!” Trigger exalted, “Let’s play bowling instead, I’ll let you win the sword fight…”

“No, you’re the victor, Trigger,” Cipher said with a shake of his head, he was thankful of the calming method he’d been taught, “and yeah, we can play the bowling game…” He rose from the couch, gripping the Wii remote dangling from his wrist.

Chapter Text

“Mister Demon, did you use to fly with my dad?”

Trigger kept up his pace with Cipher as they walked the streets of Port Edwards, clutching Wolfie close to his chest. Cipher was hesitant to answer, what happened 10 years ago was pretty complicated. He drew in a little sigh,

“Yeah, I did… I--I was his flight lead. That ‘Cipher’ you said he talks about…?”

“Ohh! That’s so cool,” Trigger looked up at Cipher with a grin, a grin that tells him he wants to hear his war stories again, “I bet you and dad were unstoppable in the skies!”

“Yeah… We were.” Cipher slowly nodded, his voice carried a somber note. Why’d Pixy have to betray him as such? They could’ve enjoyed the end of the war together, and whatever could’ve come after that. He can’t help but wonder, how different would their lives be?

“Halt there, stranger!”

Spooked by a voice from behind, Cipher and Trigger turn to witness a handful of guys, clad in flight suits, approaching them. A skeptical look came across Cipher’s face, but when he turned away, an extra handful approached from the front,

“What are you doing with the Mighty Mobius 1’s little brother?!”

“Uhh--” Cipher stammered, seeing he was in quite the predicament, “I’m an acquaintance, j--just keeping an eye on Trigger.”

“Mmhhm, sure, Mister Acquaintance! If you’re truly an acquaintance of Plane Jesus, then what jet does he use? Or, better yet, tell me everything about him!” One of the men challenged, his eyes narrowed. Cipher could spot on the shoulders of each person was a squadron patch, which read Omega,

“He--uhh--flies the F-22, and is part of ISAF…” Cipher answered, treading anxiously with his words, “and he works with Pixy, and…” 

“You know Pixy?” Another asked, cutting Cipher off, “Now that’s something only insiders know. Everyone thinks Mobius 1’s reaching stardom on his own, they don’t know it’s because he’s training with a skilled veteran!”

He’s training with a war criminal, Cipher thought. He never thought about it before, but how the hell did they even let Pixy into ISAF? Cipher couldn’t have been the only one who knows…

“He flew with dad once!” The little kid beside Cipher piped up to the group of pilots, and Cipher swore he could feel the entire party freeze. They stared wildly amongst each other, as if they weren’t expecting to ever meet someone who knew Pixy way back when.

And then came a massive flurry of over-excited reactions, and the squad closing in on Cipher and Trigger,

“You did?!”

“When?”

“How?”

“Were you just as good as him?”

“What was it like being his wingman?”

Cipher’s anxiousness skyrocketed with the excitement of Omega Squadron, one of his pale arms bent around Trigger’s small stature, as if it were a shield against the oncoming mob.

“Hey!” A single voice shouted above them all, just when Cipher thought they’d be consumed entirely by the group. He recognized that voice… And soon he sees Mobius as the Omega pilots part like the sea, and Pixy’s behind him,

“What are you guys doing? Trigger’s allowed to be with Cipher.”

“Who the hell is Cipher?”

The squad glanced back at the man accompanying Trigger, before uttering a collective ‘ohhh.’

“You must be Cipher!” The challenger from before said, “We’re sorry, we had no clue what you looked like and thought you were kidnapping Trigger. I’m Omega 1, flight leader of Omega Squadron, we’re a sister squad to Mobius Squadron.”

“It’s… Nice to meet you?” Cipher wasn’t too sure if it really was nice to meet them, they had put out quite the bizarre first impression. A dreaded look came across his face as he witnessed Pixy merely laugh at the situation,

“Don’t worry, Buddy, they’re a good bunch.” Pixy told him, but Cipher wasn’t about to let his guard down yet. He made a thoughtful sound and questioned, “Where were you and Trig headed before, well…?” He gestured to Omega Squad,

“I was going to pick some things up from my place, if I’m gonna stay with you… And Mobius, and Trig…” He answered, slowly, as if the sound of joining the family of three was a dubious idea in his mind. Pixy nods,

“Well, if you’re headed that way, we’ll take Trigger home for you.” Pixy offered. Cipher glanced down at the boy and shook his head,

“He can come to my place and help…”

“Yeah! Can I help Mister Cipher?” Trigger asked, looking up at Pixy with an innocently convincing glint in his eyes. Unable to deny the softness of Trigger’s demeanor and request, Pixy nodded with a chuckle,

“Sure, go and help Ciph’…”

“Alright, well, if you guys are on your ways, we’ll let you go,” Omega 1 said, “it was good meeting you, Cipher, I hope to see you up in the air with us sometime!” He then glanced at his squadron and waved them along, “Let’s go…”

As Omega Squadron headed away from the family, Cipher quietly sighed. He knew the squadron flight leader, or anyone he knew in general, wouldn’t be seeing him in the air any time soon. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being in the sky again. Cipher then looked at Pixy and Mobius,

“We’ll see you two in a little bit…”

“Alright, Buddy,” Pixy replied with a grin, “want me to take Wolfie home with us, Trig?”

Trigger held the wolf plush up, closer to his face, and then shook his head no,

“Wolfie says he wants to help me and Mister Cipher!”

“Oh, well… Be really helpful for Trigger and my Buddy, alright, Wolfie?” Pixy asked, to which Trigger made a small ‘woof’ in response. He laughed and then nodded,

“We’ll see you soon…” He said and began to walk off. Mobius smiled at them and nodded in agreement before following after Pixy.

Cipher looked down at Trigger, jamming his hands into the front pockets of the hoodie he still wore as he began to walk again,

“Come along Trig, we’re not that far away now…”

Chapter Text

The clink of keys sounded as Cipher jammed them into the keyhole of his little apartment. Beside him, Trigger bounced excitedly on his toes. He wondered what shiny things Cipher might have laying around inside.

Cipher swung the door open and walked in, holding open the door as Trigger trotted in behind him. Once the kid was inside, he closed the door. Trigger looked around the place, it was as kept as Cipher could possibly make it considering his lack of motivation for anything.

But Trig thought nothing of it, other than the perfect opportunity to scavenge.

As Cipher disappeared into his room to gather a few things to take back with him, Trigger walked to the nearest bunch of boxes and got to work. He opened one and started to comb through it, pulling out a few pieces of technology.

Nothing particularly struck his fancy. In fact, he was still curious about the person his dad supposedly used to know—used to even fly with. Trigger’s goal became to uncover more information about “Mister Demon”, more info than he already knew.

Deciding that maybe this technology might be useful, perhaps he could take it apart sometime, he set them aside instead of putting it back in the box, right next to where he set Wolfie. Trigger then invaded the next box.

This one was a little smaller than the box Trigger just ransacked. His beady eyes lit up at the sight of the items within. A model or two of F-15Cs and worn patches laid atop a handful of unmarked folders, and snug next to them was a whole flight helmet.

This was a jackpot to Trigger.

He eagerly pulled out the two models and inspected them. One was painted with sharp, cobalt wingtips and vertical stabilizer. There was a red dog-like creature on the stabilizer, and roundels Pixy had told him were the markings of Ustio’s Air Force. And the other model was his dad’s plane, with its trademark red wing.

Trigger realized the models were dusty when he noticed his small fingerprints on the plastic wings. How long Cipher held onto these models, he would have to ask about. Carrying the fake jets, Trigger started to waddle to where Cipher had gone when the man rounded the corner, unsuspecting of the kid,

“Oh—jeez, Trig, don’t scare me like tha—”

He started to speak, but quickly stopped himself in alarm when he saw the items in Trigger’s hands, “Where, where did you find those?”

“These boxes!” Trigger answered cheerfully, pointing to the boxes he’d been going through, “Mister Cipher, is this one your plane?” He held up the blue one, “Do you fly it?”

Cipher let out a small sigh, setting aside the bag of his things, and started to put up the various things Trigger took out of the boxes. He admitted to the boy, “It’s mine, but I haven’t flown in a while, Trig… I’m better off down here instead of the sky.”

“Why? It’s so pretty in the sky. And you can fly with dad again!” Trigger’s head tilted in confusion. He frowned as he held onto the models and watched Cipher put back the technology. Cipher paused before glancing back at him,

“It’s… It’s something I can’t tell you right now.” He shakes his head, then reaches to Trig, “Can I have those?” He asks,

“But I wanna show dad! And they’re planes. And I like planes…” Trigger didn’t want to let go of the old models. He shook his head. Cipher frowned and sighed once more,

“Come on, Trig, let me put them up.”

Trigger stubbornly backed up, shaking his head again, “You aren’t dad.”

Fuck, how do I work with a kid? Cipher bit the inside of his cheek. He glanced back at the box of his things, before his eyes fell upon Wolfie sitting there on the floor. Cipher reached down and picked up the plushie, Let’s make a little trade…

“Trig? Here, I’ll give you Wolfie if you let me have the models.” He made an offer to the boy. Trigger silently stared at him for a moment before his expression became thoughtful, like he was considering the trade.

“Okay…” Trigger finally said and walked over. He put the two planes neatly into the box, and took Wolfie back from Cipher. The man watched him put back the models, and thought for a second before picking up the whole box,

“What are you doing?” Trig asked, bewildered as Cipher tucked it under his arm and went to grab his bag of things. Cipher glanced at him with a faint smile,

“I’m taking it with us. You guys might like it.”

“You mean we’re gonna show dad the planes?”

“Yes, Trig, you can show him the planes.”

Squealing in joy, Trigger rushed to the front door. Cipher felt a fond warmth in his chest, and he couldn’t help the growth in his smile. Adjusting the box and bag in his arms, he followed the excited kid.

“Mister Cipher, can I show Wolfie one of them?” Trigger asked as he bounced by the front door. Cipher maneuvered the box over and held it open in silent agreement. In glee, Trigger put a hand into the box and pulled out the blue plane.

“Look, Wolfie, this is Mister Cipher’s plane! Can you believe he flew this? It’s so cool. It makes dad’s look plain!” Trigger said to his plush as Cipher fixed the positioning of the box and bag. The kid made a little ‘woof’ noise in response to himself.

Cipher reached over and opened the front door, the bag brushing up against the wooden slab. Trigger trotted out of the apartment, clutching the model and wolf plush close to his chest,

“Stay right here, don’t wander off Trig.” Cipher addressed him as he stepped outside after him. He closed the door behind himself and turned around, fumbling with everything in his arms to get his keys back out.

He pulled them out of his—Pixy’s—hoodie pocket and locked the front door, then turned around back to face Trigger. Cipher shoved the keys back into the pocket,

“Alright, let’s get going…”

Chapter Text

In the living room, Pixy and Mobius sat in silence. The only sound filling the room was a soft, instrumental melody of a piano and violins playing from a MP3-player beside Mobius. It was something the young man enjoyed listening to after missions, to help his mind decompress. It was something Pixy had come to appreciate, too--he never had it in the war ten years ago.

But despite the peaceful atmosphere, Mobius’s mind craved to know more--specifically about Cipher. He wanted to know the relationship between him and Pixy, from way back when. The small things between them that they would refuse to talk about. Mobius knew better than to press these matters, but his curiosity couldn’t help itself,

“Pixy?” Mobius broke through the gentle song, turning his head to look at him, “Can I ask you, what’s your favorite thing about Cipher?”

“My favorite thing about Cipher?” Pixy echoed, with a tone of confusion. He wasn’t expecting such a question. He thinks a few moments before taking a deep breath, “Well…”

“Low-life mercenaries! Only you would be so cowardly to shoot down a plane that's out of commission!”

A shout of protest from a Belkan bomber, aflame and gliding to the snowy mountains below, sounded over the radar. His new flight lead, Cipher, had just brought it down after neutralizing its capabilities. There was no time to think about the rationale behind shooting down a helpless plane, they needed to stop the rest of the bombers from doing anymore damage to Valais.

Pixy glanced down at his radar, and to his relief, their defense mission was almost done, “There’s only one left,” he radioed, as he watched Cipher’s icon turn with an uncanny sharpness toward the remaining bomber. He’s interesting, Pixy thought, he’s got skill.

Unleashing hell upon the final bomber, the F-15C’s guns blazed. In a swift, almost graceful movement, the enemy’s engines caught bullets, then on fire. It began to spiral down toward the snow, and Cipher’s jet started to turn back around. Then, base command contacted them,

“Base Command to Galm Team. The enemy attack unit has been successfully intercepted. All planes, job well done! You'll be paid well for this.”

A smile crept across Pixy’s face, his first mission in this unit had gone as planned. He had no doubt it was because of his leader’s competence. They hadn’t met before the mission, but something told Pixy that Galm Team was going to go quite far. He radioed to Cipher as he joined on his wing,

“Cipher, I got a feeling you and me are gonna get along just fine,” a little pause between his messages, as he searched for a term to call his new friend,

“Buddy.”

“Pixy?”

He wasn’t in the chilly air over Valais anymore. He hadn’t been in a long time. Quietly, Pixy let his present settle back in and blinked out his past. It wasn’t long before he realized Mobius was still sitting there, waiting for his answer,

“Oh, uh, Cipher… Right, well, he had skill as a fighter pilot. I noticed it on our first mission together.” Pixy told him plainly, fidgeting slightly in his recliner as though he wasn’t fully comfortable at the moment. Mobius nodded, but the expression on his face wasn’t convincing that he was satisfied,

“Is, is that all? Nothing about him as a person?” The young man asked further. Pixy felt a lump form in his throat at the question, and he frowned. What could he possibly say about Cipher as a person? He hadn’t got the chance to really “know” him outside their missions, Cipher had been a mysterious type and hadn’t seemed to want to be known,

“I… Didn’t know him all too well, really. I’m sure you get his vibe by now.” Is all Pixy could think of to answer Mobius. Leaning back on the couch, Mobius nodded again. He seemed satisfied enough to let go of the small conversation now, but he concluded it with a small comment,

“Well, now you have the chance to get to know him.”

Pixy felt a warmth grow on his face. His comment was true, and Pixy knew it, especially if his Buddy was going to be hanging around far more often. Just as he silently nodded in agreement, the front door swung open.

Into the house came his Buddy. And Trigger, who came bouncing to his chairside,

“Dad, dad! Look what I found at Mister Cipher’s place!” Trigger harped in glee, raising up the tiny hand that clutched an exact replica model of Cipher’s very jet. Eyes widening in surprise, Pixy sat up and took the plastic object from Trigger, inspecting it,

“An old model of his plane?”

“Trigger found this, too…”

Pixy glanced over, past Trigger, to see Cipher offering him another model. One of his own plane, complete with its bright red wing. He reached over and took the additional jet, inspecting it as well. Both models were extremely detailed, down to tiny specks of gray representing rivets in an actual plane’s body.

“Buddy, when did you--?” When Pixy looked again, it was just Trigger standing there. He looked around, but couldn’t see him nor where he had gone. He sighed, perhaps Cipher had just gone to settle in with whatever things he brought with him.

“I’m going to help Mister Cipher. He has cool things!” Trigger announced before he waddled off down the hall. Trigger’s obvious excitement made Pixy quite curious as to what else Cipher brought, the kid really only got super excited over plane things, but he thought it best to leave it be. When he looked back over in the direction of the couch, he noticed Mobius had been intently watching,

“I think he cares more than you think, if he’s been holding onto those models for a while…” Mobius told him, in a quieter voice. Pixy slowly nodded and glanced down at the planes in his hands. It felt so strange, yet somewhat so relieving, to see those planes together again, even if they were mere models.

“I guess I’ll ask him about it sometime…”

Chapter Text

Mobius shook his head, and turned to look Pixy right in the eyes, causing a sharp anxiety to manifest within him,

“Dad, you should go to him…”

“I--”

“Just go talk to him about it. I can tell you two want to reconcile. If you two just take a moment to understand each other, what bad thing could happen?”

Mobius was right, but Pixy was still worried. What if he and Cipher still needed a little more time before they could set aside their differences? He sighed, looking down at the models in his hands. A frown formed on his face, he awfully missed the better times they had, and he realized no new good times would manifest if nothing changed between them.

“Alright, fine…” Pixy caved. Still clutching the models, he rose from his chair and headed down the hallway, figuring Cipher likely invaded his room again. But as he grew closer to the bedroom, he felt an otherworldly presence radiating from the spot, and his anxiety skyrocketed once more. Nervously, he peeked his head through the open doorway,

“Wow, Mister Cipher, you look just like big brother does when he’s in his plane!”

Before him was an otherworldly presence, at least, that’s what everyone considered Cipher to be ten years ago. His former wingman was looking at Trigger, who sat on the bed with Wolfie in his arms, but was he really seeing him through the nightly tint of his visor? His face was hidden away by a flight helmet that took Pixy back.

“Yo, Cipher, do you really have to go around wearing that thing everywhere?” Pixy asked as he tailed behind his flight lead on the cream sidewalk, “It can’t be that comfortable, can it?”

Galm Team wasn’t scheduled for a mission today, a much welcomed break from combat sorties and sometimes being tossed out as reinforcements. They weren’t even wearing their drab flight suits, merely on a trip to the base store to buy foodstuffs and other necessities, and yet Cipher was adamant about donning his flight helmet.

Pixy wasn’t even sure he'd ever seen Cipher’s face before. Galm 1 glanced over his shoulder at him, and then only shrugged at his questions,

“Hey, I mean, do whatever makes you happy, I guess. I’m not judging, Buddy.”

Did it make him happy, wearing the old flight helmet that carried so many memories in it? Or did he only put it on to appease little Trigger? Pixy had many questions, but he knew some of them could not be answered. It seemed Trigger had questions of his own,

“You wore that when you flew with dad?”

Wordlessly, Cipher nodded. Pixy figured Cipher would reserve himself to muteness with his identity covered, like he always used to. And somehow it never occurred to him until now how odd it seemed for Cipher to even show his face, let alone speak, nowadays. Perhaps it was a change in order to separate himself from who he used to be.

When Pixy’s thoughts subsided, he saw Cipher’s face again. He was looking at him blankly, with the very helmet he wore in his arms. Trigger was looking at him, too. The kid was once again eager. A handful of unpleasant, silent moments passed between the three of them before Pixy coughed and broke the soundlessness,

“Did, uh, I intrude?”

“No…” Cipher answered in a mumble. He faced the box he had set on the bed before him, placing the helmet back into its brown confines. Trigger observed in quiet curiosity, as Pixy hesitantly stepped up to Cipher’s side. He offered the man the models he still held onto,

“I… I thought you might’ve wanted to put these back in the box?” Pixy said, unsure of what he wanted to say. He didn’t think it was smart to flat-out ask Cipher to talk with him about their strife, and he was still anxious about asking in the first place. Cipher shrugged, and merely gestured to the space beside the box,

“Just put them here for now…” He told him. Obliging, Pixy set the two planes down on the sheets. Cipher then reached for something else within the box. As Pixy anticipated what Cipher was looking for, he noticed Trigger trying to quietly slip off the bed. The boy, however, uttered a tiny ‘hehe’, and then made a run for it out of the bedroom with his plush.

Simultaneously, the former wingmen’s gazes temporarily flicked to the fleeing kid. Both of them were confused, but Cipher’s in particular seemed unbothered. Pixy’s eyes returned to Cipher’s activity as the other pulled out a couple of pale folders. He then asked him, “Do you know what these are?”

“No,” Pixy answered, glancing at them, he asked hesitantly, “what are they?”

“Mission reports,” Cipher replied, “from the war.”

“Buddy, aren’t those classified?” Pixy then inquired, alarmed at the notion that Cipher would illegally possess such information. Cipher looked at him with an incredulous expression,

“You ask that as if it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“You’ve done worse?” 

Cipher sighed and grumbled, “Did you forget the entirety of the war? I swear, the worst thing I’ve done is fly with you…”

Pixy winced at his remark, and glanced away from Cipher, “I’m sorry, Buddy… I never considered what you did in the war to be particularly bad.”

Out of the corners of his eyes, Pixy saw Cipher grimace. He clearly wanted to make another quip, but was physically holding himself back. Nevertheless, Cipher shook his head, and then moved to set the files back in the box. In a panic that he may miss his chance for what he was originally here for, Pixy whipped his head back toward him, and swiftly snatched the files from Cipher.

Wide-eyed and taken aback, Cipher glanced at Pixy, who clutched the folders as if they were a lifeline to him, “Pixy--?”

“Cipher, I-- We need to have a talk about this…” He cut Cipher off, gesturing to the folders in his hands.

Cipher looked at him confused, and Pixy held in his breath. Please, agree to talk with me, Pixy silently begged, hoping he hadn’t ruined the chance by approaching it too drastically. After a moment of consideration, Cipher turned his whole self toward Pixy, “... What about it?”

This is it, the opportunity to tell you something I should’ve tracked you down to tell you,

“Buddy, I’m sorry… For running away. At the Seven Pillars…”

Chapter Text

What did you say?

Cipher stared at Pixy, dumbfounded.

Please, say it again…

“Buddy…?” Pixy asked, looking at him with a desperation that struck and sunk deep into Cipher’s chest. He wants to make sure you heard him, Cipher,

“… Repeat?” He requested. Cipher was mostly sure he’d heard Pixy right, but he needed to be completely sure. Perhaps, such a phrase could bring the closure he so desperately needed.

Pixy was silent for a second before shaking his head with a small sigh. As he began to move around Cipher, he said, “No… Never mind. You’ll think it’s ridiculous I said it.”

“Pixy—!”

Before he could realize it, Cipher had reached out and grabbed Pixy’s arm, stopping him right in his tracks. He was not going to let Pixy leave this room without reaffirming something,

“Please…” He stared, nearly into his soul, as he pleaded. Pixy sighed as he turned back toward Cipher, but stiffened when he noticed the desperate look in the other’s eyes. He had to oblige, and he took in a deep breath,

“Okay, fine… I said–, I said I’m sorry for running away.” Pixy told him, and watched as the gears rotated in Cipher’s brain. Cipher only stared silently back at him, surprised, struggling to truly comprehend the moment. Pixy added, after a moment, “I just–, want us to be buddies again, you know?”

“Do you really mean that…?” Cipher questioned in a quieter voice after another moment of processing, his grip dropped Pixy’s arm. Pixy can hear the slight doubt edging his words, like he wasn’t fully convinced that his apology was sincere or even real.

“Yes. Yes, I do…” Pixy nodded. He took a single step closer to Cipher, and a great relief filled the other’s gaze that couldn’t go unnoticed. It didn’t take much to get it through to him, to Pixy’s own relief, and yet…

Can I forgive him…? Apprehension filled Cipher’s mind. He heard and could feel how sincere Pixy’s words were. But he can still see and hear…

“So, have you found a reason to fight yet, Buddy?”

A hollow feeling in his entire body was all Cipher felt as he caught visual contact on the super-plane with a single red wing through the snowfall. He could never explain it, but the malice in the way Pixy called him by his nickname cut deep. How’d it come to this? How’d they come to be enemies?

None of that seemed to matter now, Cipher had the entire world to save; at least, it felt like that when he heard Eagle Eye radio in his ear, “Confirmed reactivation of nuclear silo…” 

“Engage.”

He had no choice but to face Pixy head-on. There was no running away. One of them, at the very least, was going to die by the other’s bullet or missile—.

“Buddy, you still alive in there? You look lost.”

Cipher released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He was still in Pixy’s room, still looking at him. He was not in his old F-15C, and he was not going out to kill for a paycheck. With a shuddered breath, he momentarily looked away from Pixy, “... I think I need a minute.”

“Buddy?”

“Just let me have a minute to think.” Cipher moved around Pixy, toward the doorway. He paused as he reached the frame, “I’ll… I’ll be back in like, an hour.”

And then he pushed onward, despite the concerned protests from his former wingman. He walked down the hallway, only briefly stopping as Mobius noticed and asked him a single question,

“Going somewhere, Cipher?”

“Yeah… I’ll be back in a bit.”

Mobius nodded and seemed to let him head out without any further prodding. Cipher placed a hand on the cold doorknob, and pushed his way outside. He saw the sky above had a slight tinge of orange, it was the cusp of sunset, but he never minded it. If anything, he found it more inviting to reflect on the verge of twilight.

He closed the door behind him and let his feet carry him wherever they wanted to go. He had no particular destination in mind, that is, until a thought came to his mind that filled him with a sense of realization and longing. Cipher trotted along the streets and alleyways until he found himself at a stupidly familiar place.

He stood at the barbed wire fence at Port Edwards’ airport. He grimaced, recognizing the spot as the one where his face hit the ground after witnessing Pixy’s jet land here a couple of weeks ago. Cipher sighed to himself at the embarrassing memory, and glanced out at the taxiways and runways.

He took in the sights and sounds of various aircraft coming and going, whether they were airliners servicing hundreds of civilians or military aircraft heading out on evening missions. There was a reason he was standing here plane-spotting, a reason that his mind and legs chose to take him here while he was meant to be thinking over everything that had even happened in the past weeks.

Cipher had come to realize, in no doubt spurred on by Pixy’s sincere apology, that he wanted to heal from his troubled past. He knew he was never going to fly again, but he was tired of the nightmares and flashbacks. And deep down inside, he wanted to return to being buddies with Pixy again, too…

He forgave him for what happened between them, even if he was too stubborn to acknowledge it.

In silence and solitude, he stood at the fence and continued to gaze at the air traffic, all while coming to terms with his desires of getting better and trying to piece together how to confide all this to Pixy. Of course, Cipher was never the type to ask for help, but there was a bit of hope in him that, perhaps, Pixy could offer him some in a way.

In a moment where everything was calm, and sounds of aircraft had temporarily died down, he heard a familiar voice call out to him,

“Hey, Cipher, what are you doing out here at this hour?”