That evening at Petrichor Air Force Base…
The crew lounge buzzed with energy, alive with chatter, the occasional clink of bottles, and the low hum of music spilling from a corner radio. The faint scent of fried food lingered, mingling with the metallic tang of fuel wafting in from the tarmac outside.
Emilie, Teppei, Mona, and Houallet had claimed a table near the back, drinks in hand, unwinding after another grueling day of sorties and chaos.
Emilie and Mona tapped their beer bottles together, the glass ringing sharply.
"Cheers," Emilie said, taking a slow sip.
"To surviving another clusterfuck," Mona quipped, raising an eyebrow.
Mona set her bottle down, eyes flicking toward Emilie with that ever-present curiosity of hers.
"Say, Emilie. I oughta know more about you."
Emilie chuckled, swirling the bottle in her hands.
"Yeah? Fine by me."
Mona leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.
"Are you the first in your family to become an Air Force pilot?"
Emilie nodded, setting her bottle down.
"That's right. My father works for the Marechaussee Phantom with the Maison Gardiennage, and my mom… she's in forensic medicine."
Mona raised an eyebrow.
"So basically, your parents are Fontaine's police force?"
"Sounds about right," Emilie said with a shrug, leaning back in her chair, the faint glow of the lounge lights catching on her glasses.
Mona exhaled, then returned with a grin.
"Well… my parents are both from Mondstadt, originally from Dornman Port. A few months before I was born, they moved to Mondstadt City. That's where I grew up. I'm the first in my family to join the military—Air Force or otherwise."
She leaned back dramatically, arms spread wide.
"I trained in Mondstadt, spent a year and a half in the reserves, then a spot opened up in the Fontaine Air Force. And here I am." She laughed lightly, the sound carrying a mix of pride and amusement.
Emilie nodded appreciatively.
"Well, at least you made it here."
Mona smirked.
"And what about your interests, Raven?"
Emilie tilted her head, curious.
"My interests?"
Mona glanced around the room, then leaned in with a conspiratorial smile.
"I've always been fascinated by the stars."
"The stars?" Emilie echoed, tilting her head.
Mona shook her head, soft laughter escaping.
"Astronomy—well, astrology, really. Always wanted to explore space. As a kid, I read all the astrology works of Barbeloth." She scoffed playfully. "Matter of fact, that's why my last name is Megistus—my parents were just as obsessed with Barbeloth's studies."
She leaned closer, eyes bright with curiosity.
"What about you, Emilie?"
Caught off guard, Emilie hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Me? Uh… well… it's kind of weird. Best if I don't say," she admitted with a small, awkward laugh.
Mona chuckled knowingly.
"Fine by me."
The two clinked bottles again, sipping slowly, sharing a laugh that was rare and easy after weeks of tension and combat.
Across the lounge, Teppei flopped onto the couch beside Houallet, stretching his arms over the cushions with exaggerated relaxation.
Houallet leaned forward, voice casual but curious.
"So, who's leading the flight tomorrow?"
Teppei chuckled, shaking his head.
"Who's leading tomorrow? Hmm… I'd say Emilie, but honestly—does it even matter?" He grinned, leaning back, letting the music thrum through him.
"You oughta know by now, Houallet," he said, tapping the side of his head with a sly smirk. "We're an auxiliary squadron. The royal highness, Lieutenant Colonel, is coming down from mainland Fontaine anyway. Gonna oversee everything personally."
He adjusted his headphones again, letting the music thump softly.
"Man, I love this sound. Gonna sleep like a damn baby tonight."
Houallet frowned, leaning forward.
"And what about Natlan? Fifteen years ago, we were allies, right?"
Teppei's expression sobered.
"Yep. Did my history homework. And the base commander… well, he isn't exactly subtle about pointing fingers over what happened." He cleared his throat, then mimicked the commander's gruff tone with a smirk.
"'Is there any suspicion about Captain Candace's behavior?'"
Teppei shrugged. "I'm more worried about the damn screw that's loose in his head."
Just as he leaned back, satisfied with his joke—the air raid siren shrieked across the base.
The lounge froze. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Bottles clinked gently to tables. Eyes snapped to the overhead speakers.
Teppei groaned, slumping sideways dramatically on the couch.
"You've gotta be shitting me! An air raid!?" He threw his arms up, eyes wide. "Come on, man! Give me a break!"
Meanwhile, Emilie and Mona were already strapping into their flight suits, zipping up with practiced speed, their boots thudding against the floor as they raced toward the apron.
Teppei let out a long, exaggerated sigh, swinging himself up from the couch.
"Fine, fine… I'm coming!" he yelled after them, sprinting to catch up, his headphones bouncing as he ran.
The base was alive now with frantic energy. Mechanics scrambled toward aircraft, engines roared to life, and the first streaks of sunset glinted off the polished fuselages.
The night would be long.
And Wolfsbane was about to dive straight back into the fire.
The base was in chaos.
Enemy bombers and fighters tore through the night sky, their silhouettes painted by the fiery glow of burning aircraft and scattered explosions. The shriek of air raid sirens mingled with the roar of jet engines and distant bursts of anti-aircraft fire. Ground crews scrambled, hauling gear and sprinting toward remaining aircraft, while air defense units fired tracer rounds skyward, streaks of light cutting through the darkness like fiery veins.
Emilie's boots thudded against the tarmac as she sprinted toward the lined-up F-5 Tiger IIs. Her pulse hammered in her ears, each beat synchronized with the distant booms of falling ordnance. She leapt up the ladder, slammed herself into the ejection seat, yanked the harness over her shoulders, and clicked her helmet into place. The canopy hissed closed behind her, sealing her into the familiar, cramped cockpit. Ground crew hands vanished as the stairs were yanked away, and Emilie dove into the preflight sequence.
Her F-5 sat behind Teppei's, engines already warming. She flicked the right engine start switch. The J85 turbine coughed violently.
"Come on… come on… come on!" she muttered through gritted teeth, slamming her palm against the dashboard.
The engine wheezed, sputtered… and then, with a sudden roar, came alive. Its howl cut through the chaos.
"These turbines are gonna be the death of me," she muttered before hitting the left engine start. This time, it spooled smoothly, a steady whine rising as the compressor spooled up.
She glanced left—Teppei's Tiger II was already taxiing, weaving through abandoned ground vehicles and stray debris.
Then—a deafening roar.
An F-14A Tomcat, engines screaming and flames trailing, spun wildly out of control. It plummeted straight toward the ramp.
"Shit!" Emilie gasped, gripping the stick tighter.
The Tomcat slammed belly-first into a parked F-5, erupting into a fireball. The blast wave rattled Emilie's canopy, setting her teeth on edge.
"Archons almighty," she muttered, disengaging the parking brake and throttling forward.
Her radio burst to life.
"This is the control tower! All aircraft, priority departure! Cancel all altitude restrictions on climb! Defend the base at all costs!"
She shoved the throttles fully forward, afterburners screaming as she followed Teppei and Mona into the night.
120 knots… 140… 150.
She eased back on the stick, feeling the F-5 surge skyward. The landing gear retracted with a satisfying clunk.
She keyed the mic. "All planes, engage! Target enemy bombers first!"
Mona's voice came immediately. "Wilco. Starseer, engaging!" She broke left, Tiger II vanishing into the darkness.
Teppei followed. "Roger! Herring, engaging!" He split right, weaving through tracer fire and explosions.
Emilie pushed the throttle, afterburners flaring as she clawed altitude toward the incoming B-1 Lancers. Her HUD flickered, IFF tags blinking red.
She squeezed the trigger. "Fox Two, Fox Two!"
Two Sidewinders streaked forward, cutting across the night sky. Direct hits. Both bombers erupted in orange fireballs, fuselages ripping apart as debris rained down.
Her radio crackled. "Raven's got two bombers!"
Another voice cut through the chaos. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Reed, approaching Petrichor. What's the situation?"
Teppei laughed, sarcasm dripping. "Oh great, here comes His Royal Highness from the mainland."
He angled his F-5 onto an incoming F-4E Phantom. "Fox Two!" The missile hit squarely. "Herring's got a bandit!"
The control tower barked over the comm. "Lieutenant Colonel, we're swarmed! Fighters and bombers everywhere!"
Emilie scanned the horizon, spotting another F-4 Phantom. She locked on, tone and lock confirming.
"Fox Two!"
The Phantom banked violently, trying to shake the missile. Emilie twisted with it, gritting her teeth.
"Not losing you!" she growled. Switching to guns, she lined up the shot—20mm rounds tore into the Phantom's right wing, shearing it off. The enemy jet spiraled violently, smoke trailing before it slammed into the ground.
"Enemy fighter down!"
Lieutenant Colonel Reed's voice crackled again. "Emilie, can I trust you to hold the runway until I arrive?"
Her grip tightened on the stick. "Y-yes!"
"Good. Keep at it," Reed replied, calm despite the chaos.
Emilie's eyes caught another B-1 Lancer, screaming toward the base. Lock. Tone.
"Fox Two, Fox Two!"
Two missiles tore through the night. The bomber's left wing ripped free, fuselage spinning toward the ocean below.
Off her left wingtip, explosions blossomed.
"Herring's got two more bombers!" Teppei called, voice triumphant over the radio.
Emilie grinned, tapping her mic. "Outstanding work, Teppei! Keep it up!"
Around her, the night sky was a storm of tracer fire, burning wreckage, and the roar of afterburners. Petrichor Air Base was under siege, but Wolfsbane was alive, kicking, and not going down without a fight.
Mona's voice cut sharply through the comms.
"The bombers that flew overhead earlier are turning around for another run!"
Teppei's eyes scanned the hangars, just in time to see another F-5 Tiger II rolling out. Its canopy gleamed under the harsh emergency floodlights as it accelerated down the taxiway.
He keyed his radio, disbelief in his voice. "Hey! We got someone in another Tiger!"
Mona's tone was sharp, incredulous. "Who the hell pulled that out!?"
A new voice crackled back, steady and unflinching.
"This is Ayaka! Kamisato Ayaka!"
Teppei's jaw dropped. "Ayaka?!"
"I was at the hangars working with Kaeya on this thing! I'm taking off!" she continued. There was no hesitation in her voice, only determination.
Teppei gripped the stick tighter, a mix of awe and panic coursing through him. "Like hell you are, Ayaka! You're not even out of replacement pilot training yet!"
Ayaka's reply came fast and calm. "I didn't see any other spare pilots, sir."
Mona's voice cut through Teppei's panic. "We don't have time for this. Every pilot in the air counts, Herring. No excuses."
Then she turned her focus to Ayaka. "Be careful, Ayaka. I'll cover your six."
Ayaka's voice carried a note of steely resolve. "I'll try, ma'am."
Teppei exhaled sharply, then keyed his radio. "Hey, Raven. Ayaka's going out here. I'm not so sure she can handle it. Are we just gonna sit here and watch?"
Emilie had just finished off two Panavia Tornadoes, her F-5 weaving through the lingering debris cloud. She keyed her mic without hesitation.
"No. Provide supporting fire and cover! I'll deal with the bombers!"
Teppei clicked his mic with a grin, adrenaline spiking. "Roger that, Emilie! Let's give her a hand!"
He banked right, switching focus from the bombers to the remaining enemy fighters, leaving the last three B-1 Lancers for Emilie to handle.
The radio crackled again.
A panicked voice screamed, "Wait! Don't go! It's too dangerous!"
The control tower barked back with authority.
"No! Let her go! She can do this!"
A voice rang over the tower speakers, almost ceremonial in tone.
"May the Anemo Archon guide you, Soumetsu!"
Ayaka's voice followed, unwavering. "This is First Airwoman Kamisato Ayaka, callsign Soumetsu! Departing the runway to provide support for the other planes!"
The control tower replied immediately. "Roger that, Soumetsu. Good luck out there."
A direct comm from her commander came next. "Raven, I trust you can take care of Soumetsu. Please—watch over her!"
Emilie adjusted her grip on the stick, eyes scanning the chaotic night sky. "Of course," she muttered under her breath, throttle forward.
Then a calm, authoritative voice broke through the frequency.
"This is Wolfsbane Leader. Petrichor, I'm out of fuel. Requesting immediate landing."
The tower fired back urgently. "Sir! You can't land yet! We're still under attack!"
Meanwhile, Emilie's attention snapped to a B-1 Lancer lining up a bombing run. She leveled her Tiger II, switching to guns.
She squeezed the trigger.
The 20mm rounds shredded the bomber's right engines and wing root. The turbines sputtered violently, then erupted in fire. The wing tore free, and the fuselage tumbled into the ocean below in a roaring inferno.
"Two bombers left!" Emilie reported.
Teppei's voice cracked over the radio, tension edged with awe. "But plenty more fighters still in the air!"
Emilie clenched her teeth. "Keep fighting! We're almost there!"
Then Ayaka's voice rang out, precise and commanding. "This is Soumetsu! I'm airborne! Providing supporting fire!"
The Lieutenant Colonel's voice came again, trying to keep control of the chaos.
"Negative, Tower. All planes, provide cover while I land!"
Teppei practically yelled into the radio. "WHAT ARE YOU!? INSANE!?"
A sigh followed over the channel. "Second Lieutenant Teppei… is that you?"
Teppei tensed. "Y-Yes?"
The Lieutenant Colonel let out a tired chuckle. "I'll make sure to write you up when I la—"
Then—explosion.
Teppei's head snapped left as flames trailed from an F-4 Phantom spiraling toward the ground.
"The Lieutenant Colonel is going down!"
His eyes locked on an F-16C streaking away, smoke trailing from its missile rail. Teppei yanked his Tiger II into a hard turn, tone lock acquired.
"Fox Two!"
A missile streaked forward, impact. The F-16C disintegrated midair, forward fuselage tumbling into the dark ocean.
Teppei clicked his mic, voice raw with triumph. "Splash for Herring!"
The radio was alive with static, explosions, and shouted orders. The battle wasn't over, but the defenders of Petrichor were holding their ground. Wolves in the sky, claws out, not letting the night devour them.
All the while, Emilie's eyes were locked on the last two B-1 Lancers. The first one she lined up, taking a sharp burst from her 20mm cannon. Tracer rounds shredded the fuselage, sparks and shrapnel scattering into the darkness. The bomber pitched violently, pieces of its wings tearing free before it tumbled downward in flames.
The second barely had time to react. Emilie's Sidewinder streaked off the rail with a hiss, the missile tailing upward before detonating directly against the Lancer's wing root. The explosion ripped through the bomber's structure, sending debris tumbling across the night sky.
That left just one.
High above, 10,000 feet, the last Lancer banked hard, desperate to escape. Its engines flared against the darkness, leaving trails of smoke and fire in its wake. Emilie didn't hesitate. She slammed the throttles forward, the twin J85 engines roaring as the Tiger II leapt into the night sky. She yanked back hard on the stick, pulling into a vertical climb that pinned her chest against the G-forces, muscles burning with the strain.
Suddenly, a warning shivered through her cockpit.
"Shit! Left engine—compressor stall!"
The left J85 coughed violently, spitting fire from the exhaust and choking against the airflow. Emilie's stomach dropped. A full flameout now would mean losing altitude—and losing the target.
"C'mon, come on, come on…" she muttered, twisting the throttle, feathering it to stabilize the airflow. Sweat ran down her brow as she fought the aircraft, feeling the limits of the F-5 protest with every strain of its airframe.
The altimeter ticked upward.
6,000… 7,000… 8,000…
The bomber's tail was within missile range. Emilie's HUD blinked, tone acquired.
"Fox Two! Fox Two!"
Both missiles streaked away, leaving brilliant trails against the night sky. Emilie pushed forward on the stick, snapping into a near-vertical nose-over dive. The Tiger II trembled, a metallic groan vibrating through the canopy as aerodynamic forces tore at every seam.
Then—boom.
A blinding eruption of fire and debris erupted above her. The Lancer fragmented in a spectacular pyrotechnic display, its wings and fuselage twisting violently as flaming wreckage tumbled toward the earth.
The radio came alive in rapid succession.
"Soumetsu's got three bogeys!" Ayaka's voice rang through the comms, steady and proud.
"Herring's got the last Tornado!" Teppei shouted, barely containing his excitement.
"Starseer's got the final fighter!" Mona added.
Then—silence.
Emilie eased off the throttles, her chest heaving as she leveled out at low altitude. The wind whipped past the canopy, carrying the smell of burnt fuel and ozone from spent munitions. Below, the fires from the night's engagement were slowly being brought under control.
Her wingmen began to regroup. The three remaining F-5 Tiger IIs slid into position: one on each wing, one trailing slightly behind. A perfect diamond formation glinted under the emergency lights, a picture of coordinated precision.
The control tower's voice cut through the quiet with relief and pride.
"It's over! All enemy fighters and bombers have been eliminated! Thanks for protecting our base, everyone!"
Emilie let out a deep breath, finally allowing herself a moment of relief against her ejector seat. The tension drained from her muscles, leaving a soft ache from the intense maneuvers.
Then, a familiar voice crackled through the comms.
"Hey, Emilie?"
She turned her head, scanning first right, then left. To her left, Ayaka flew steady, her F-5 glinting like polished steel in the glow of the floodlights.
"Was my flying okay?" the young airwoman asked, voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and pride.
Emilie raised her thumb through the canopy, a grin tugging at her lips.
"Fantastic! Three kills in your first air battle? Not bad, Soumetsu!"
Ayaka's face lit with a small smile. "Thank you! But it was only possible because of you and your team's support."
Down below, the ground crews and infantry were cheering. Fires were being contained, and the first aid teams were already pulling survivors from the wreckage.
"Looks like Ayaka didn't need us after all. She was great out there!" one soldier called out.
"Yeah! Let's throw a celebration party together!" another added, laughter in his voice.
Emilie chuckled, her shoulders finally relaxing. "Now that's something I'd want to do…"
Teppei's laughter cut in, loud and unrestrained. "You got that right! Beers all 'round for me!"
Mona exhaled, a tired smile spreading across her face. "Yeah… after the hell we've been through today, we deserve it."
The four of them, battered and exhilarated, kept formation as they began their slow climb back to base. The night sky, once a battlefield, now stretched above them serene and starry, a temporary calm after the storm.
Even with the lingering adrenaline and the echo of explosions still in their ears, Emilie allowed herself a moment of quiet pride. They had survived the chaos, held the line, and proven themselves against impossible odds.
But as always in war… she knew the night would not be the last test.
Minutes later…
The trio executed a flawless formation landing at Petrichor Air Force Base. Their F-5 Tiger IIs roared across the runway, wheels touching down in perfect synchronization, the tires screaming as the friction burned rubber and the afterburners flared. Dust and heat shimmered off the tarmac as the jets slowed, brakes hissing.
The moment their wheels met the ground, the airfield erupted in cheers. Ground crews, officers, and fellow pilots spilled onto the apron, waving and shouting. Voices carried over the hum of idling jet engines and the occasional rumble of a departing aircraft.
The Wolfsbane Squadron had held the line.
And Ayaka… Kamisato Ayaka, callsign Soumetsu… had proven herself in her first real air battle, holding her own and earning her place among the squadron.
Inside the base, the mess hall was alive with celebration. The clatter of trays, the hum of conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses filled the air. For the first time that day, tension gave way to relief. The war had not paused—but for tonight, they allowed themselves a reprieve.
Emilie raised her glass, the amber liquid catching the glow of the overhead lights. "Cheers, everyone!"
The response was immediate. Dozens of voices echoed hers as glasses clashed together, metal striking glass in a symphony of relief.
"Cheers!"
Mona nudged Teppei with an amused smirk. "Herring, you gonna drink or just hog all the beer?"
Teppei laughed, tossing back a sip before grinning at Emilie. "Not bad for a day's work, huh, Raven?"
Emilie chuckled, shaking her head. She scanned the room and spotted a familiar figure leaning casually against a counter—Kaeya, one of the base's top mechanics, fiddling with a small wrench while swirling his drink. She approached, lowering her voice slightly.
"Hey, Kaeya," she said, her tone half-amused, half-apologetic. "Sorry if I was a bit harsh on you earlier."
Kaeya smirked, tilting his head. "No worries. We were getting shot at, and you're flying ancient jets. Honestly, it's a miracle you didn't have both engines quit on you mid-dogfight." He chuckled, swirling the glass in his hand. "Seriously, those planes are relics. I half-expected you to eject just to stay alive."
Emilie sighed, nodding. "Yeah… figures it's time for the auxiliary squadron to get something newer. These Tigers are showing their age."
"Agreed," Kaeya said, tapping his glass against hers before taking a long sip. "Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week—but soon. You've earned it."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of heavy boots. Captain Maksim stepped forward, his presence instantly commanding attention. The chatter in the room dimmed as heads turned, glasses paused mid-air, and the room went still.
"Actually," he began, his voice steady and authoritative, "we've already got something lined up for you." His eyes swept over the Wolfsbane pilots. "Some surplus aircraft—leftovers from a squadron that recently upgraded." He paused, letting it sink in. "Come by the hangars with your team in two days."
Emilie straightened slightly, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "Yes, sir."
Maksim gave a satisfied nod before stepping back into the crowd, leaving the celebration to continue.
The night stretched on. Stories of the day's dogfights, narrow escapes, and daring maneuvers were shared over rounds of beer. Teppei regaled the table with exaggerated tales of his "superhuman piloting skills" while Mona rolled her eyes but laughed anyway. Emilie listened, shaking her head with a small grin, feeling the adrenaline of the day slowly ebb.
Somewhere in the corner, Ayaka quietly sipped her drink, listening to the older pilots with a mix of awe and pride. Emilie caught her eye and gave her a small nod, which Ayaka returned with a shy smile.
Hours passed. Laughter faded to murmurs. The last of the glasses were drained, and the hum of the base's night operations took over the mess hall. Eventually, the celebration wound down, the pilots and crew retiring to their quarters to rest, recover, and prepare for whatever the next day would bring.
September 27 came to an end.
But that day had seen three major operations:
Eliminating UAV recon drones before they could relay intel.
Defending Fontaine's naval fleet from a surprise assault.
Repelling a coordinated enemy strike on Petrichor Air Force Base.
Through it all, Wolfsbane Squadron had held the skies.
They had proven their skill.
They had proven their resilience.
And most importantly—they had shown everyone that they were more than just pilots.
They were more than machines and tactics.
They were flying aces.
And as the stars stretched across the night sky above Petrichor, the squadron, tired but triumphant, allowed themselves a moment to just… breathe.
The war would not wait for them, but for tonight… they had won.