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Phoenix doesn’t crow when she and Bob land back on the tarmac. Instead she wears a proud, hard earned look of accomplishment and Maverick respects her for it, not that he didn’t already.
He shakes her hand dutifully and unzips his flight suit halfway and wraps it around his waist. By now, Hangman, Rooster, Payback, Fanboy and Coyote have made their way down to the flight line to witness the historic event.
Phoenix got a lock on Maverick. She got the first lock on Maverick. Now, he has to do two hundred push ups. A sight each and every one of them wants to see.
“What if he carks it?” Fanboy murmurs. “He’s what, like sixty?”
Payback nudges him. “Don’t jinx it.”
Despite the anticipation, none of them are actually convinced their Captain will make it through the exercise. Sure he’s fit, they saw him at the beach-day before the mission. But as fit as he was thirty years ago?
Hondo takes up his post against the body of the plane and Maverick gives them an eye roll when he sees his audience. “This is a one time only show.”
“Domino effect sir,” Payback calls. “Once one of us has you, more shall come.”
“Okay, prophet,” Maverick teases before lowering down to the ground. As he goes his knees pop and there’s a collective wince between the group. Doesn’t he have arthritis or something?
“Down, one!” Hondo calls and Maverick lowers down, push up form perfect. “Down, two!”
It takes a while for things to get interesting. Maverick maintains a steady and even pace, not even breaking a sweat. When he breaks eighty, the Daggers start to shift in awe.
Hangman leans towards Coyote. “I thought he was meant to be old.”
“Age and endurance are not mutually exclusive,” Maverick chastises. Hondo mutters something under his breath, something suspiciously sounding like it had to do with Ice. “I heard that!”
As time drags on, the assembled Daggers find seats on the warm concrete, unable to tear their eyes away. Every set of ten, Payback takes a video. One hundred passes…then one twenty.
At one eightt he pauses and almost looks like he’s in trouble before raising his left hand to rest on his pelvis. The aviators lose their minds. He makes it all the way to two hundred, and then a few more for good measure.
Perhaps they are wasting time, chewing into their tight schedule. But there's one thing Maverick learned in all his years. Sometimes the troops need something to believe in, and sometimes they need the impossible to be possible.