Sky High
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
Training for the Army of Piltover started the same for all officer recruits regardless of which stream they came from. Each cadet spent six months in initial officer training, learning the basics of soldiering as well as advanced leadership tactics, and were regularly assessed on their fitness and military knowledge.
Upon successful graduation from the course, the cadet class would come together for a cumulative passing out parade through the streets of Piltover, thousands of eyes watching and cheering the young officers on, their flashy uniforms proudly displayed as they crunched through a pre-designated route. It was then onto specific trade training for each cadet, dependent on entrance examinations into each trade school, and the length of the course varied, from two months for infantry officers to up to two years for pilots.
The war hadn’t even been raging for a month before those timings were sliced in half by the Council.
Senior officers of the forces needed bodies, and they needed them fast. They didn’t give a shit how well they were trained, they needed more, more, more, to throw at the Noxians.
More bodies to man the guns.
More bodies to fly the planes.
More bodies to perform emergency surgery.
More bodies to be ripped to shreds by shrapnel.
Three months in, all trade academies suddenly decided to get their trainee officers to take a “hands on” approach to learning, putting them into the same ranks as the seasoned experienced officers, for a more “hybrid” educational experience. Those who attended the Piltover Military Academy were bumped straight into trade school, skipping initial officer training entirely, under the guise of creating a new streamlined workforce.
For Violet Vanderson, it was no different.
She’d hated every second of officer training, from the moment she stepped foot into the depot to when she was whisked away early to commence pilot training. It was similar to university, the structure, the learning, the physical training, but there was underlying fear beneath all of it for what was to come once she’d graduated.
She knew now what the endgame was.
However, training in the Air Corps had come as a pleasant surprise to Vi; she’d hit the ground running with her team, eager to learn, and found that the real-world practical experience of shadowing senior pilots and being present for mission briefings was tenfold more beneficial than anything she could’ve learnt being stuck in a classroom. And after a couple months of gelling with her team, being shown the ropes, she found herself more involved in squadron debates, more and more officers coming to her to ask for advice and opinion on all matter of topics, from air refuelling manoeuvres to striking tactics.
It was customary for pilots to only be trained in one type of aircraft, and to learn that vehicle like the back of their hand, to feel themselves become one with the machine when in the air. However, the squadron she was with tended to two very different helicopters, both with different roles and abilities. Whether it was unofficial training or an under-the-table agreement with the Council to keep pilots on their toes, Vi was trained on both the CH-47 Chinook and AH-64 Apache.
Comparing the two was the same as comparing a Ford Raptor to a BMW M4. One could get you where you wanted to go, and fast, loaded with enough firepower to take out a small army, but what about when you needed to carry a small army yourself? Or carry crucial aid to a deserted fireteam in enemy territory? Both had their defining features, their advantages, their disadvantages.
As skilled and confident as she was piloting both beasts, Vi knew that if she had to choose between either one on a mission, she’d select the Apache without skipping a beat. She had a certain muscle-to-metal connection with the machine like she’d never felt before, as if she were connected with the chopper, performing effortless manoeuvres and sharp banks and bombing runs that would give even the highest-ranking pilots in the Army of Piltover a run for their money.
For someone who was constantly chasing an adrenaline rush, flying such powerful helicopters and spending as much time in the air as she did quenched Vi’s thirst effectively. Flying wasn’t just a job for her anymore; it was an escape, a distraction, a mask to hide behind when shit hit the fan. With 300 flying hours under her belt, including night ops and extraction training, Vi was more than happy with her vice of choice, too.
Today would mark Vi’s 45th cumulative flight with her squadron. At the fifty mark, she’d be up for promotion to Captain, and would be given the choice to pick her own squad from across the Army for Piltover for missions whenever she saw fit.
Dressed in her standard olive green flight suit, Vi’s fingers absentmindedly ran over the Lieutenant rank slides pressed neatly into her shoulders, a single dark line across a drab-coloured loop of fabric.
Just five more flights, Top Gun, she thought to herself with a smirk as she made her way across the tarmac to her bird of choice this evening, the Chinook.
Rows and rows of military vehicles stretched out as far as the eye could see, ranging from small dinged up Humvees to Challenger tanks to the newly commissioned F35 Lightnings. Each squadron on their air base had a small section each to store their equipment and firepower, and Vi was grateful that her squadron in particular had been assigned a spot so close to the accommodation block.
Vi’s gaze was broken away from the line of machinery when she heard boots slapping on the concrete behind her to catch up. “Mission report,” a voice said matter-of-factly, slapping a brown file into her arms.
“Good morning to you too, Ekko,” Vi drawled. She looked down at the report in her hands before handing it back over. “You can give me the rundown when we’re in the air. I don’t like reading before flying.”
“How professional,” Ekko retorted sarcastically.
“Please, you know I love your debrief voice,” Vi shot back with a teasing smirk.
Ekko grimaced. “Gross, Vi. I’m dating your sister.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Another condition of the Army of Piltover’s reform was the introduction of Zaun fighters into their ranks. Zaun’s army had never recollected after the Great War, however there was an abundance of Zaunites raring to go and fight for their country after the declaration of war, and Piltover graciously welcomed them into their structure.
Vi had no idea how Ekko came to be her co-pilot. Whether it was divine intervention, or the fates pointing a finger and laughing in some sick twisted way, she wasn’t complaining. He was a mighty fine wingman, and an even better pilot. They worked as two halves of one whole aeronautical brain; if Vi was dropping their speed, Ekko would get the landing gear ready. If Ekko was doing the communicating with mission control, Vi would be listening to each word said from both sides, ready to act on whatever command they were to be given next.
They were a fucking good team. Anyone who saw them in action could see that; their dynamic worked perfectly.
As they approached the chopper, Vi noticed a lack of troops clustered around, awaiting orders to load up into the cargo bay of the bird. She cocked an eyebrow and looked over to Ekko. “No cargo?” she asked quizzically.
“And this is why you should read the mission briefing,” Ekko responded. “We aren’t taking anyone. We’re picking people up. It’s an extraction mission.”
“Oh.” Vi’s face dropped. Extraction normally meant an advance gone wrong, and an advance gone wrong meant a gunfight waiting to happen. “Where abouts?”
“Outskirts of Noxus, right by the border. I asked Heimerdinger what they were doing out there, but it all seems pretty hush-hush. Our job is to get in and get them out. It’s an infantry crew.”
Vi felt a stab of guilt in her stomach as soon as she heard infantry. Ekko saw her next question coming a mile off, and added, “It’s not Claggor’s guys, don’t worry. They’re all still on the eastern front. In one piece, last I checked.”
“Cool. Thanks.” Vi joined Ekko in performing their pre-flight checks, removing the weatherproof housing from the landing gear and pulling the flight tabs from the two M134 miniguns. At least the ground crew had done their job and got the chopper ready for take-off.
They both entered the Chinook from the rear, Vi soaking in its sharp metallic aroma, a smell she could never get sick of. Ekko held down the button to draw the mouth of the cargo bay to a close and headed off to the cockpit, Vi following behind closely.
“You ready, Little Man?” Vi joked. She slid into her pilot seat and flicked a few switches before slipping a headset on over her ears.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Ekko replied curtly. He placed his own headset on and kicked the engine into life, the familiar womp-womp of the slapping blades above them slowly filling the cabin as they picked up speed.
With a shuddering jolt, both pilots felt the moment they finally went airborne, and Ekko grabbed the control column between his legs to steer the bird onto the flight path. Vi went over their fuel readings and kept their airspeed steady. The vehicles on the ground quickly shrunk into blobs of dark grey mass in the distance as the pair picked up altitude and sped off into the distance. Fishing in his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small pocket watch and dangled it from a handle above their heads, the metal mass swinging rhythmically in time with the chopper's blades.
“Any word on what went wrong with the unit?” Vi asked into the headset. Her voice was garbled and tinny through Ekko’s speaker, but it was impossible to talk to one another in the cockpit normally over the sound of the beating blades above their head.
“No idea,” said Ekko. He kept his gaze on the horizon, careful eyes scanning the horizon. “Like I said, Heimerdinger’s playing his cards close to his chest. There’ll be some flares going up once they know we’re close enough, but it means any Noxians will see them too, so we need to be quick.”
Vi nodded and didn’t respond, instead setting her eyes out of the bubble too. In stark contrast to the mission they were about to embark on, the morning Sun was rather pleasant. Its beams penetrated through the canopy, basking both pilots in a warm glow, and Vi flicked her visor over her eyes to keep the glare from distorting her vision too much.
“How’s Powder?” Vi asked Ekko. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth, a habit she couldn’t shake ever since she started flying. She had to be doing something with her jaw, whether it be talking or chewing, otherwise she tensed too much and ached. The minty capsule exploded in her mouth as she passed it along her molars.
“She’s good.” Ekko had pushed his own visor down now so half of his face was obscured. Vi didn’t need to see his face, though; there was a hint of hesitance in his voice.
“Everything okay?” she pried.
“Yeah.” Ekko shuffled in his bucket seat uncomfortably. “Yeah, just- I miss her, you know? It’s been a long time.”
The army had become increasingly stingy with dishing out leave days to their officers, especially those working a crucial role. Vi and Ekko fell under that umbrella; a blessing when it came to their paycheck, but a curse when it came to anything that kept them remotely human.
“Still no word on the visitor passes?”
“Nope.” Her co-pilot sighed. “The least they could do is let us off with day passes, it’s stupid. Like, why do we have to stay on base even on our days off?”
Vi nodded in agreement. The setup was stupid. Operational integrity her ass, this was about control. Everyone knew it.
It’s what Piltover had always been about.
“Still, they sign our paychecks, so,” Ekko trailed off. He kept his mouth shut for a moment before asking another question. “Is there anyone you’d want to go home and see?”
Vi pondered over what Ekko had asked. Only a few face flashed to mind, however.
Including one face she’d buried deep in her cerebral a long time ago.
“Apart from family, obviously, not really. Maybe some of the old rugby girls, but I don’t know.” Vi swallowed a lump in her throat. “Everything changes when you go away, whether you like it or not.”
“And what about the people who came with us?” Ekko prodded further, referring to her other friends who’d also joined the forces.
“Forget it, Little Man,” Vi huffed. “She was a fling. She’s probably forgotten about me, anyway. I want to forget about her.”
Ekko wasn’t convinced one bit by Vi’s words but he stayed silent nonetheless. In all honesty, neither was Vi.
Just like when they were 19, Violet had been played the silent card by Caitlyn fucking Kiramman. Again. Their last conversation had been right before they both shipped out, when Vi had gone to her house one final time, when they-
Stop it.
Caitlyn was gone. A member of the Corps of Justice, a regiment which Vi was pleased that she never had to cross paths with before. Out of sight, out of mind. She could focus on what she should have always had her mind on in the first place, her future, her friends, her country.
But Ekko knew and Vi knew that would never be the case. That damned face and stupidly perfect gap-toothed smile haunted Vi. When she was alone, when she was eight beers in at the officers’ mess, when it was real quiet at night and when Vi tried her hardest to push the thoughts away, they came bundling back.
“ETA?” Vi asked Ekko. The least she could do was provide herself with a distraction.
“Uh, with our current speed, hour and a half, give or take.” Ekko’s eyes danced over the flight controls to confirm.
“Cool. Always been the numbers man.” Vi flashed him her canines before settling back in her pilot’s seat and setting her eyes on the ground ahead.
***
The Chinook was gradually closing in on its target, and Vi felt a chill spread through her chest and into the pit of her stomach as they neared the dropzone.
There wasn’t a single flare in site.
Something was wrong.
“Ekko, you see any smoke?” Vi asked cautiously. She’d taken over piloting for Ekko a half hour ago, allowing the two to share the brunt of staring at the same spot of land for miles and miles. God, Vi hated these types of missions.
“No.” Ekko sat up to get a better look at the ground. Vi still couldn’t see his face but there was a tint of worry in his tone. “I’ll radio MC.” He held a button on the side of his helmet, speaking to mission control. “Control, this is Big Bird Niner, no flares in sight. Confirm co-ordinates, over.”
A crackly static voice on the other end of the line read out the co-ordinates, which Ekko checked with their in-flight GPS. “Proceed with caution, Big Bird Niner. Land at exfil site and continue as normal. Control out.”
Ekko grunted in disagreement but nodded over to Vi. She pulled the control column centre with her legs, keeping the Chinook stationary, as Ekko worked to reduce their altitude over the correct co-ordinates.
The chopper hummed as it gradually made its way back down to ground, landing with a soft thump on the desert sand beneath them. The blades spun dust clouds up into the air as it descended, blocking the vision out of their bubble entirely. She killed the engine and the rotor blades dulled to a stop, taking a deep breath before sliding out of her seat.
“Eyes up when we get out there,” Vi said cautiously.
Ekko had gone to the back of the cabin to retrieve their rifles, something the pair of them had not had to go out with on a mission in a long time. “You still remember how to use these?” he joked, tossing the gun over to her.
Vi caught the weapon with one hand and gave it a quick once-down before cocking it back. “You never forget,” she responded dully, before picking up her set of webbing and slinging it over her shoulders. They both slid their flak vests on and tightened the straps before heading out the rear of the chopper.
With the sand settling now that the blades were no longer whirring, Vi had the opportunity to take in their surroundings. A barren desert stretched around them for as far as the eye could see, nothing but course blond-white sand and a few stray saplings for miles. The midday sun beat down heartily on the backs of their necks and shoulders, and they both begun wishing they’d worn something more lightweight.
“Vi, 12 o’clock on the bird,” Ekko whispered over to her. They were both in combat mode now, knees slightly bent, barrels of guns raised and fingers hovering hesitantly over the trigger. They made their way to the front of the chopper cautiously and Vi came to see what Ekko had pointed out.
Two tan coloured Humvees sat in the sand, hood to hood. Smoke billowed from the engine bay of the vehicle on the left. On the right, bullet holes littered the armour-plated exterior of the other car, shredded metal pointing out at the edges of each groove.
Vi expected a real-time firefight. She expected to provide cover fire for Ekko as he mustered the worn troops into the chopper, a quick pick-and-go of anyone who was still left alive.
She didn’t expect… this.
It was eerily silent as the pair crept over, rifles swinging around as they scanned their surroundings for any movement. Vi noticed bundles of dark clothing around the Humvees in an odd semi-circle, as if laid out strategically.
“Vi…” Ekko trailed off as he went over to check the items on the ground. He rolled one over, his eyes widening, a sick feeling rising up to his mouth.
They weren’t clothes. They were bodies in Piltover army uniforms.
Full of bullet holes and shrapnel wounds, just like the Humvees they’d been travelling in.
Vi cursed under her breath as Ekko checked the pulse of the first corpse he found. He shook his head at Vi, who didn’t notice, because all she could do was stare at the lifeless eyes and gaping mouth of the motionless man laid out in front of her.
She continued to stare at the first body Ekko picked at as he went around checking the others, all confirming the result they both knew he’d get. She analysed the features on his face, wondering who would be waiting at home for him. Gazed deep into those bloodshot eyes, the spidery veins creeping up his strained face, laced with…
Was that purple?
A shuffle of movement came from inside one of the Humvees. Both pilots snapped to attention, their guns raised and primed, as the passenger door cracked open slowly.
A giant hand emerged from the darkness within, gripping the side of the door, followed by a tuft of scraggly sandy-blond hair. The man crept out of the vehicle, shielding his eyes from the blazing sun overhead.
He dropped his guard and Vi finally recognised the face as Leonard’s, one of the heavy munitions experts she’d flown about before. He was a burly built man with a square body and head, but was as daft as a brush, normally the last to understand his commander’s jokes or to figure out what the rest of the team meant when they said something that wasn’t straightforward.
Leonard crept towards the pilots with apprehension. His breathing was ragged and desperate, panting and heaving like a caged animal.
“Leonard?” Vi said gently, taking a step towards the towering man. “You remember us? We’re here to get you out, would you like-“
“No!” Leonard roared and, before Ekko had a moment to react, lunged himself at Vi.
The two toppled over, Vi landing flat on her back, and Leonard reached great meaty paws up to her face. He dug his nails in hard into her cheek, and the pilot cried out in pain as she felt the familiar warm trickle of blood run down her face. Leonard continued to scream and shout out incomprehensibly, his lips curled into a constant snarl, eyes wide and burning with rage as he continued his manic frenzy. Vi could feel his hot breath against her skin, metallic and sour, as catapults of saliva escaped from his lips.
In a heroic display, Ekko had dropped his shoulder and charged into Leonard, knocking him off of Vi with a surprising amount of force. He took the opportunity while their attacker was disoriented to scoop Vi up by the armpits and they both sprinted back to the chopper, not daring to look behind them until they collapsed in the loading bay and Ekko closed the lip shut.
There was a frantic bashing of fists against the exterior of the Chinook, accompanied by wild howling which echoed through the empty cargo hold, which didn’t dissipate until the bird had left the ground and was now scurrying to back where it came from.
Ekko didn’t say anything to Vi once they were both safely back in the cockpit. She didn’t need to speak at all; he could tell she was fucking exhausted. He took over flying as Vi searched for a first aid kit to patch up the deep scratch marks down her face.
As she leant into the small mirror in their gun rack to examine the damage, locking eyes with herself, she couldn’t stop thinking about how magenta Leonard’s irises had been.