The Grey Raven // Bucky X Oc (Discontinued For Now)

⠂Chapter 25⠐

“Welcome. This is my lab.”

White, white, and more white. The walls, the floor, the tables. All of it gleaming from the fluorescents and the natural light streaming in from the massive windows. The glass stretches from floor to ceiling along the whole wall.

A few other scientists are in the lab and acknowledge me with a polite nod before turning back to what they’re doing.

“I hate to tread on the mood a bit, it’s a lovely lab, but why am I here?” I ask, peeling my eyes away from the stunning view out across a small field that meets the trees, all of it covered by snow.

“It takes quite a lot of explaining, Ms. Valla,” Dr. Robichaud says slowly, a smile playing on her lips.

“Please, just call me Astrid,” I say swiftly. “I came here, didn’t I? I’m curious. And I have time.”

She gives me a thoughtful look. “I guess you did come here after all…” She pauses, staring off into the distance for a few seconds. “Now may not be the best time for me to explain everything. I’ll also need to talk with the team I’m working with.”

“What should I do in the meantime then?” I ask, watching the doctor closely.

“Let me call someone,” she says finally, her gaze warm.

I watch as she walks a few paces away and pulls out her phone. Don't listen in. Don’t listen in. Don’t listen in! I repeat to myself, stepping closer to the windows.

I continue to repeat that in my head to block out what is being said over the phone and stare out at the snow-covered greenery.

A few small puffs of clouds fill the vibrant blue sky but other than that the sun is shining down, making the snow sparkle.

“May I take you down to the airplane hangars? There’s someone there you might remember,” Dr. Robichaud says, coming to stand beside me.

I frown slightly, my curiosity growing. Someone I might remember?  “Sure,” I respond.

She leads me from the lab and down a few hallways and a flight of stairs. We go through another set of hallways and I notice that there’s a lot of natural light in this place.

Eventually, we reach a door and exit out into the chilly air. A cleared path leads to a building that reminds me of one I had to be in for nearly four weeks taking classes during my training.

“There will be a class going on but I was told that we shouldn’t worry about it since it’s almost over,” Dr. Robichaud warns as she exchanges a nod with the man posted at the door.

She leads me through the building until reaching a large room with a projector screen and a small handful of seats and desks facing it.

We enter and I stop short, my eyes landing on the person teaching the class. He stops as well and stares at me, shocked. “Floss?” I say quietly.

“Star?” he says in the same tone. “Everyone, this is Astrid Valla-Castro, one of the best fighter pilots in the world,” Ryan Westly says to his class.

“You told us about her a few days ago,” one of the guys says as he looks me up and down.

Westly looks at Dr. Robichaud. “Did you want her to look at the plane?” he asks her.

I glance between them, excitement coursing through me. A plane? For me?

“Are we allowed to?” Dr. Robichaud asks, glancing swiftly around the room.

“Yeah.”

Dr. Robichaud turns to me. “Are you in the mood to fly?” she asks, smiling.

“If given the chance, I will,” I respond.

“Lovely. I’ll show you to the changing room first, then to the plane.”

“Dismissed,” Westly says to the students.

A few minutes later I’ve changed into a flight suit. “Is there anything special about this jet?” I ask, adjusting my sleeves slightly.

“Yes. But I’ll have to wait to tell you that until later.”

Intriguing. “Oh, wow,” I comment as we enter the hangar. “I-... is that a fifth generation?” I ask in surprise.

“It took a while to make it, but, yes,” Westly says, walking over to us.

Still as cocky as always. “So, are you a Captain now?” I ask him, crossing my arms.

He lets out an annoyed breath. “Yes.”

I snort. “You became a Captain then got transferred to teach the Avengers “special force” how to fly?” I jibe.

“A “special force” that is probably gonna watch you fly,” Westly fires back.

I glance behind me to find the class he had been teaching standing in a small cluster, a few other pilots with them. “What should I know before I get in?” I ask, nodding at the plane.

“You can’t fly more than 30 miles in any direction. Don’t shoot your guns. And, though the plane can, don’t go over Mach 3,” Dr. Robichaud says.

I frown slightly. Interesting set of instructions. “Is that all?”

“Yep.”

I nod and walk over to the plane. I study the shape and structure of the plane closely. Fifth generation, huh? I’ve only ever fought against these types of jets.

A pair of air marshals come over and help me put on the remainder of my gear before helping me up into the cockpit.

Oh, I’ve missed this. I strap myself in and place my hands lightly on the center stick, a smile blooming on my face. Everyone hurries out of the way as the canopy comes down.

“Call sign, Star. Do you copy?” a voice says into my ear, startling me slightly.

“This is Star. I copy,” I respond, carefully pulling the jet out of the hangar and onto the runway.

“You are clear for takeoff,” the voice says.

“Copy,” I reply. I turn the jet until it’s facing down the runway and take a deep breath. Let’s do this!

It’s as if it hadn’t been years since I’d last been in a plane. I let out an audible laugh of joy as I soar into the air. “Is anyone in the air?” I ask.

“You’re the only one up there right now,” comes the response.

That’s good. I fly around a bit, getting a feel for how the plane moves before glancing at my wings. They’re variable-sweep wings? Like my old plane.

I pull the wings in and do a quick barrel roll.

After that my mind easily drops back into itself, instinctively knowing what to do. I go through what, to me, are standard maneuvers, but to most anyone else, would be either difficult or unheard of.