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Rex wasn’t ready for it when it happened. He was fighting the Shadows, and then—
Something happened. He felt something in him snap, and suddenly he was floating. His plane was below him, but he was above it. His plane, still imprisoning his body, crashed into the water below.
He felt nothing. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. Where was he? Who was he? He couldn’t remember anymore. He knew was that he was with the sky, and there were others here too. He could feel true aces and their friends on the wind, beckoning him to join them. But it wasn’t his home. He never belonged up here.
He never deserved those wings. Those damn stolen wings. They shouldn’t have belonged to him. The sky was an unforgiving place. It only made humans suffer.
He watched the jet slowly sink, the newbie still inside it, trying to remove the canopy. He tried to channel all his hope, all his being into his next thought, hoping he would hear.
«Start swimming, soldier.»
He looked down at the carrier, gliding in the wind, feeling his grip on his thoughts slipping—
«Make it home alive.»
The wind was cold that day.
Loki reached forward and snagged the dogtags in front of himself, looking at them curiously—
«Start swimming, soldier.»
He kicked off his seat, swimming upwards. The salt water stung at his eyes.
«Make it home alive.»
He finally broke the surface, paddling desperately to stay afloat. His flight suit was heavy, weighing him down in the water.
He looked up at the sky. It was a deep blue, almost no clouds. The Shadows had already left, leaving him cold and alone.
Realising he was still clutching the dogtags, he wrapped them around his wrist and loosened his white-knuckled grip slightly. A gust of wind came up behind him, clinking the dogtags together.
He continued treading water, and the wind continued to clink the dogtags. It whipped between his fingers, gently pushing the metal into them. He lifted his hand higher out of the water and the wind followed, pushing them towards him.
He held it slightly closer to himself and the wind stopped twisting between his fingers. Then he held them out further away. The wind cut down into the water, spraying droplets up into his face.
He scoffed, lifting them closer to his chest again. The wind pushed them against his chest, right above his heart.
The wind spun around his neck, tickling him under his flight suit. He lifted the dogtags up to his neck, hesitating, curious why the wind was urging him to hold them.
It then pulled the two ends of the chain closer together, snapping it closed around his neck. He let go of them, feeling the weight of them on his chest.
The wind snuck underneath his helmet, running over his skin. It spread all around, ruffling his hair and tickling his back until it all landed above his heart.
«Rex.»
The wind spread across his chest. He flinched at the strange and unexpected sensation.
«You are Rex. Bearer of the fake wings.»
Loki clawed at his chest. He hated the feeling of the wind— it was speaking to him—
«Your name is Rex.»
The wind somehow sounded… stern? Loki— no, Rex was still trying to claw it out. The wind dug into the deepest cavities of his chest without remorse, seeing his thoughts, in his thoughts—
«You are Rex.»
The wind repeated, beginning to loosen up its hold on his heart. Rex felt the moment it finally stopped viewing his thoughts.
«Close your eyes.»
The wind spread out across Rex’s skin again as he closed his eyes, and then—
Rex was back on the carrier, leaning against a wall. The ocean spread out in front of him, waves choppy today. A wisp of wind ran through his hair, jingled his dogtags, then left.
Noise came over from inside, stopping next to him. “So, Loki— I mean Rex, how does it feel to suddenly be in the shoes of an ace?”
Rex looked at him, realising what he meant. He was a replacement. The next part of the messed up hoax that was the wings of theve.
He finally understood what the wind had done, because the wind was him. The wind was Rex. The wind was him, and he was the wind, and together they would take on the war.
Noise looked at him strangely, then walked away to go presumably talk to Tasha. Rex continued to look out across the water.
A gentle breeze ruffled his hair and swirled around his neck. He lifted his fingers up, going to let it run through them.
The wind instead blew up into his face, slowly going over his lips and jaw, tracing everything. He shivered a little, opening his lips just a little bit.
It swished over his tongue, down his throat, into his lungs, to his heart, throughout his bloodstream, back to his heart, and finally back to his lungs. He felt every second of it, of Rex literally flowing through his veins.
He sighed him out, licking his lips afterwards. The wind swirled around his face, eventually sneaking back into his mouth again. He chomped down on it, rubbing his tongue around the air. The wind lazily swirled over his taste buds, slowly inching back down his throat.
He breathed in Rex again, savouring the feeling of it. Eventually, he had to breathe the wind out. It wrapped around his neck, clattering their dogtags, then nudged him slightly in the direction of the jets.
Another F/A-18 waited, emblem scratched off of it. His new jet. Their new jet.
The wind excitedly swirled around the jet, pulling him towards it. He rested a hand on it, admiring the shininess. It obviously wasn’t new, how could they get new jets here, but it was still in great shape.
He looked out at the ocean again and the wind tickled his cheek. He faintly smiled, feeling it tussle his hair, then playfully shove him over to the door that Noise had gone through.
And if Rex had the wind helping him throughout the war, nobody had to know about it. Nobody but them.