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Klara Rask would never fly again. That’s what the doctors told her anyways. Not like Frost wanted to after her shit got rocked over Rowsdower.
She punched her cards, she should’ve died. But she didn’t. Crawling out of that wreckage with a broken leg, fractured arm, and an eye she knew would never be fixed.
But Frost had other plans. She needed to find out who this Monarch was. This pilot that had bested her. It borderlined on obsession.
Every single pilot on Hitman team she had some dirt on, except him. No records, not even a name. The only leads she had were contracts that Sicario had signed. He just suddenly showed up, no story, no nothing.
Rogue militias and other groups vying for power within the ruins of Cascadia was commonplace now. The Federation was fractured, nations leaving or trying to rebuild what was broken.
And Frost? Well she was back at her old job back at Icarus armories. A flight and military advisor now. It far cry from being the pilot she once was. It was boring, lackadaisical.
Well that is until he showed up.
The corporation began to thrive after their development of the PW-MK1. Countries lining up to buy the new top of the line aircraft to get an edge over their competitors.
After all it’s just business and if you had the cash then Icarus would provide.
So obviously they would be at one of the bigger defense trade expos. Showing off their new home brew products and hoping to get contracts. Icarus armories showcasing their new PW-MK2 otherwise known as the Y/F-22.
Naturally she was there. Unable to drink her boredom away. Head resting in her hands, struggling to stay awake. The day was already winding down, somewhat late in the afternoon. Most of the would be customers already at meetings to discuss contracts.
The mercenary heard footsteps shuffle at the edge of her table. Strewn across it were infographics, capabilities, and little fun facts about the new aircraft. Which was displayed behind her, a machine of war pretending to be an art piece.
“What’s so different about this one from the last one?” Monarch asked. He eyed the women at the table who hadn't bothered to look up at him.
Frost tapped on one of the infographic papers. “Better low speed maneuvering, resistance to IR missiles, fuel consumption on the aircraft decreased, cool downs on the weapon systems have decreased significantly. The only thing holding it back is the cost and upkeep of the aircraft.”
Klara clicks her tongue. “That and it G-LOCs the pilot quite frequently if they aren’t experienced fliers. Not a fly-by-wire system. More control but…”
“It needs a higher skill ceiling yeah, sounds like you’ve had some experience with it.” Monarch crosses his arms taking a step forward. He had a sneaking suspicion on who it was. The voice gave it away.
“Something like that.” Frost didn’t like that tone. She looked up at the man. “Had a bad experience with a test flight.”
“I can see that.” Monarch saw the eye patch and the burn marks that ran down her neck. He almost felt bad, almost. “Weren’t able to punch out?”
“The electrical system was fried. Pushed it to its limits among other factors.” Klara lied. She didn’t need this guy to know about Rowsdower. How she crashed on a mountain side. The crash should’ve killed her. She fully expected it to. But when she woke up in pain, she didn’t want to die. Willing her body forward to make it out of the wreckage.
“Other factors…” Monarch nodded along. “Don’t they have systems in place specifically for that not to happen.”
“Experimenting with new technologies always has its risks.” Klara snorted. “Especially when it’s next generation military tech. You need someone to know the limits and push them. I calculated the risks.”
“Is it worth it when you can’t fly anymore?”
That hit a nerve. Klara’s jaw tightened. “Who said I couldn’t fly?”
Monarch didn't move but his eyes sharpened. “You’re here at a tech expo giving people like me the rundown on why yours is better than theirs. They don’t just bench people like you for no reason.”
Klara pushed the table away and stood up. She wasn’t the tallest. An inch or two shorter than the man in front of her. But Frost had dueled aces when the odds were stacked against her. Faced down the crown without a second thought.
“I’m not grounded.” There was venom in that statement. Her fists balled up and she closed the distance with a slight limp. “Who are you anyways?”
Monarch backs off. “Some pilot looking at the shiny new toys that the MIC is showing off.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Sure… some pilot. Federation? Cascadia?”
“Who says I’m not from Kerneuropa or the Concordat?”
“Your accent would sound more like mine. Definitely Cascadian then.”
“Bold words for someone you just met. I’m not from there though. Born in some small town in the North Eastern Peripheries.”
“You flew for them though, the Cascadians. Mercenary then.”
“You can tell how?”
“You're not subtle.” She narrows her eyes at him.
“Military Industrial Complex.”
She restates that word slowly, like reciting it to a child. “That’s merc talk. Federation pilots call it the Strategic Defense Industry.”
“Same thing. I could be a federation merc.”
“You could be.” Klara backs away watching him intently. “But you aren’t.”
Monarch raises an eyebrow at that. “As I said, how can you tell?”
“You didn’t leave it there. Cascadian Contract. Mercenary.” Klara says it pointedly. “So this is just an investment then?”
Monarch shakes his head. “I like my aircraft as it is.”
“Not the type to invest in new toys?” Frost crosses her arms.
“This one’s too shiny for me.” He shrugs
“Data’s all there you don’t wanna take it out for a spin?” Frost waves her hands at the Y/F-22. “What type of plane do you fly then?”
“F/D-14.” Monarch says it curtly. Frost stiffens for a second. Her blue eyes bore into green ones.
“Didn’t take you for a twin seater, you seem too quiet for that.” Frost says hesitantly. “A little bit old don’t you think? Especially in this day and age.”
“She’s reliable, works, and is pretty too.”
Klara’s mouth twitched, not amused. “Reliability is something that someone says when they can’t afford better.”
Monarch shrugs. “Or when they don’t need better.”
“Why not upgrade then?” The way he said that made her irritability rise. She shifted her weight off her bad leg. “I’m sure “she” outperforms your 4th gen fighter any day of the week.”
“Well it hasn’t outperformed her yet. Ask me how I know.” Monarch, sighed stuffing his hands in his pocket.
Frost stopped breathing. Her voice grew quiet. “Excuse me?”
Her irritability turned to anger. This mercenary was getting on her nerves.
Monarch looked at the plane and then her. “I’ve just seen one in action. Not this one specifically, but probably its predecessor.”
“Where?” Klara’s mind was running at mach ten. Her jaw tightening. Anger was bubbling.
“Where?” She asked again. More vitriol, she shoved a finger in his chest. “There were no predecessors of this fielded in any combat situation. Only controlled testing environments. There is only one case where the Mk1 was used however. Everyone knows that story though.”
“You seem to know more than you let on.” Monarch calmly removes the scared finger from his chest.
Klara scoffs. “Fuck off, answer my question.”
“What makes you think I’m gonna.” Monarch.
This makes Frost heated. “Because I asked!”
She raises her voice, almost yelling. “I am demanding you to tell me. This is not some polite suggestion, this is not some casual curiosity. It is because I am demanding you to tell me.”
Monarch exhales. “Reminds me of a certain someone I know. Are you always this demanding?”
“ferme ta gueule.” She wants to rip her hair out and sock this mother fucker in the face. “You were there. I know you were there.”
“Was I, Frost Druid?”
Klara clenches her teeth and curls her fists. Monarch backs away, putting his hands up in defense. “How… what… who are you.”
“I’m sure you already know.” He says softly.
“No name, no story, the only trails are contracts signed and paychecks distributed. You're a ghost.” Klara steps away now. The revelation of it all hitting her at once. “Why are you here then, Monarch? Finishing the job?”
She says the last bit quietly, anger fading away. Monarch actually chuckled at that. “No actually my Wizzo couldn’t make it so I’m here for her. She just wanted to see the new two seater planes coming out.”
“You're kidding.” She threw her hands exasperated. “You only met me by chance?”
“I had a suspicion, it was calculated. Your accent is kind of unique.” Monarch titled his head. “I’m surprised you survived the crash. I guess you didn’t punch your cards.”
“Just barely.” She pointed to her eyepatch. “Took my eye and I have a limp now…”
“I guess I was right about what I said earlier.”
“I can still fly. I’m just a… flight risk.” Klara had to pull a chair to sit down. Her leg hurt too much to stand anymore.
“You fly like one.” Monarch cracked a smile when he saw Frost bristle at the comment.
“Was that supposed to be funny?”
“It’s not a bad thing.” Monarch started evenly. “It means you fly well. My wizzo calls me a flight risk.”
Frost scoffs. “You are one. With the moves you pull. In a 4th generation fighter no less. Being able to keep pace like that?”
She shook her head. “There’s pilots like you in every generation.”
Monarch rolls his eyes. “Sounds like you’ve chased a few.”
“Oceania was full of them.” She took a breath, eyeing him. “Ask me how I know.”
“You turned coats and began to hunt them down.” He says bluntly.
“Business is business.” Klara replied. “The Federation pays better.”
“And?”
She hesitated. “It was survival.”
Monarch’s green eyes met Frost's blue. “Couldn’t you say that Cascadia was the same?”
“The Federation didn’t account for you.” She held his gaze.
“I guess they didn’t.”
“You weren’t in Oceania.” She continued. “Maybe the Cabal would’ve had a chance.”
“I never cared for the Cabal.” He said honestly. “Not as much as someone like you did. I was working legally then too.”
“Why the change?”
There was a pause. Hesitation, Monarch debating on whether to tell her.
“I’ll give you this.” He finally says. “But because it doesn’t matter anymore. Forgotten place in a forgotten time.”
Klara nodded curtly and listened.
“I flew for a state in the Northern Peripheries. A random run of the mill wartorn territory. Bandits and privateers ran the place.”
“That’s why there’s no record on you.” Frost whispered.
Monarch nodded. “A Federation Peacekeeping squad IFF’d us wrong during a routine CAP. Left a sour taste in my mouth.”
Frost slowly digested the words he had said. “That’s why you stayed in Cascadia.
“It’s where the contract landed.” Frost stared at him incredulously.
“You expect me to believe that?”
Monarch hummed. “I don’t care if you do.”
That irritated Klara way more than it should’ve. “You shot down half of the Federations Air Power of the Bering Strait. They called you a demon. A king. Ruler the skies.”
“My emblems a butterfly actually.”
Klara’s eye twitched. “Why does it look like a crown?”
Monarch shrugged. “Ask Prez, she does the art.”
Klara snorted. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Yes.”
“You made them afraid.”
“They were already afraid. I saw them panic on the radar until their blips went out.”
That made her go silent. She studied him with her one good eye for a moment. The sounds of the defense expo quietly faded into the background. The contractors talking, the sound of shoes hitting the floor, and the sounds of jets taking off and landing.
Frost looked away. “You saw me panic.”
“I saw you die.”
“Almost.”
Monarch’s voice remained steady. “Well you were flying calm right up until the missile hit.”
“You usually don’t plan for that.”
Klara laughed humorlessly.
“I shot you down.” Monarch stated.
“Polite way of saying you killed me.”
“I didn’t kill you.”
“You were planning on it.” Her smile faded. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Yet here you are.”
Klara leaned back in her chair. “You know that plane’s made for people like you, Monarch. You set the baseline.”
“I’m flattered.”
“It’s not a compliment. What happens when it finally does catch up?” Klara presses, eyes boring into his own. “Can you always be ahead?”
“Good pilots adapt. But of course, someone’s gonna take my place eventually.”
Frost nodded at that. It happened with her, Everyone slips at some point.
A pause. “You said your Wizzo wanted to check out two seaters right?”
Monarch hummed in agreement. “Yeah, she ate too many Dippin Dots yesterday.”
Klara’s eyebrow shot up. “Stomache ache?”
“Something like that.”
“You trust her?”
“With my life.”
Klara inhaled. She rubbed her forehead a little bit, thinking. Almost hesitating. “Take it up.”
Monarch blinked. “What?”
“There’s a two seater variant that’s still in its prototype phase.” A faint smirk appeared on her lips. “I know you don’t like shiny new toys. But we’re low on capable test pilots and the scientists need data.”
Monarch tilted his head. “I thought you weren’t allowed to fly.”
Klara shrugged. “I’m technically not flying.”
“You're my backseater?” Monarch asked incredulously
The smirk turned into a smile. She stared at him with her good eye. “I just want to see if you’ve gotten better.”