SG Vol. 1 pt. 24 (Patreon)

Filly versus Worm is the most boring, pathetic display I’ve ever seen.

Filly is too scared to commit to any attacks. Every single time it seems like she gets a good idea or comes up with some sort of plan, she starts to execute it, but then backs off as soon as Worm points her gun at her.

“What do you think?” I ask Muscles.

“Sir?” Muscles replies.

“The match. Tell me what you’re noticing. Let’s see if you’re good for your head instead of just your muscles, Muscles.”

“Filly is afraid to commit. She’s flying like she’s afraid of her unit getting damaged.”

“And Worm?”

“Worm overreacts to everything. She doesn’t commit to anything because she’s constantly changing whenever Filly does, but she doesn’t seem afraid.”

“Right. She’s not a coward, but she is stupid.”

A more interesting match to watch is Breeder with Samurai.

Breeder tries keeping at a safe distance and is conservative with firing her missiles, but she’s just playing to Samurai’s strengths. Samurai is performing best at a distance and every single burst from her guns at least partially hits Breeder whereas Breeder has only managed to disable Samurai’s unit’s left leg with a lucky missile that slipped through Samurai’s flares.

Looks like Breeder finally gets some common sense and flies right at Samurai, but that fucks her even harder. Samurai has been relying on guns that excel in short to medium range distances. She was hitting shots at a long distance, and closing that distance means that Samurai’s bullets pepper Breeder’s unit full of holes.

“Well?” I ask.

“Have to keep pressure on Samurai and not let her relax long enough to aim up good shots,” Muscles explains. “Her aim drops under pressure.”

That’s not what I was seeing nor was that what I was expecting to hear from him. I’ve never seen Samurai’s aim be anything other than excellent at all times.

I might be able to get some good information out of Muscles about his fellow cadets.

Back at Filly and Worm, Worm successfully baits Filly’s flares and then launches the remainder of her missiles. Not bad, but that would only work against Filly.

Only one group is left, and there are just short of twenty seconds left before their match is over.

Shitger and Valkyrie.

As much as Shitger can be an annoying little shithead, he’s actually a good fucking pilot for a cadet. Never going to let him know that, but it’s true.

He calls Valkyrie’s bluffs, takes advantage of her screw-ups, predicts where she’s going to go – he perfectly reads her. But, even with being able to read her flawlessly, Valkyrie’s technical skill is higher than his. It might just be a simulator, but she knows how to push her unit to its limit and refuses to let Shitger land a hit on her. She can get away with being predicted so easily by him when she’s able to predict him right back, evading all of his attacks.

Not a single one of them is scratched yet. But, when I perform a quick check on who won the previous two rounds, Shitger won them both.

It’s only a matter of time going by that.

“She’s thinking too hard,” Muscles says, and he’s right. It’s clear just by looking at her face on the screen. She’s tense, her shoulders are almost up to her ears as she performs high-g maneuvers, and her breathing is total shit. It’s like she’s only thinking about how to take out Shitger and completely ignoring her own safety.

And that’s why she passes out for just two seconds which is enough for Shitger to line up the shot and take her out with just under a second left for the match.

So, Samurai fails under pressure when it comes to aim, and Valkyrie overthinks and overcommits.

While Valkyrie looks to be holding back her emotions, Shitger looks up at the camera in the cockpit and gives us a thumbs-up.

Cheeky little fucker.

Annoying, bratty, cheeky little fucker who just so happens to be a decent pilot in the making.

That level of skill would already put him above most new pilots on the front lines. Seeing him fly, even if it’s in a simulator, just looks natural. It’s like he was born for this.

Damn it. I’m getting pissed off from how much praise he deserves.

“Sloppy, Shitger. You need to work on your reaction times and not hesitate to take risks,” I tell him over the comms, instantly wiping that smile off of his face.

Unfortunately, the smile comes back after a couple of seconds. “But I won all three matches, so I did good, right?” he asks. “Sir?”

Fuck.

“You weren’t worthless, but you were going against an opponent who would have crushed you if she would have stopped trying to crush herself,” I respond.

I guess it’s time to get back to the room and go over the footage with…

It’s still so fucking early. We’ve only been in here for fifteen minutes and I got a full hour scheduled for them.

“Muscles, get back into your simulator,” I order him. Once he’s back in, I say over the comms, “You’re going to practice formation flying in low-visibility for the remainder of the scheduled time.”

Might as well use the extra time to hone the basics. They’re not ready for more simulations against the demons, and they’re not going to learn much from fighting each other until I can correct their flaws.

I’ll just go over the footage from the matches that I missed as they practice flying.

Unfortunately, it takes less than ten minutes to go through it all, and now I’m bored with nothing to do but watch these brats fly. So exciting. Formation flying in a simulation.

I’m tempted to hop into one of the simulators myself. Part of me is jealous that these brats went up against the demons in their first simulation. Even if it’s only been a few weeks since I’ve last killed any demons… I want to kill more of them.

Just thinking about it is making me restless.

I want to see them bleed. I want to crush their heads in my unit’s hands and underneath its feet. I want to shred their bodies to pieces with thousands of bullets in a matter of seconds – I… I need to get back out there.

I’m not a fucking teacher or a babysitter. I’m a killer. I was trained how to do two things: how to kill, and how to survive. Right now, there’s no point in surviving if I’m not killing – if I’m not killing the demons.

No… that’s not right. I have Naomi. Staying with her is more important than killing demons, but…

Shit. I think I might have a serious problem here. Not killing demons for this long feels like I’m going through withdrawal now that I’ve realized just how long it’s been. How many more have been created while I haven’t been out there? How many ops have I missed out on? How many people have died because I wasn’t out there to kill the demons before the demons could kill them?

I want to fly. I want to get out there and kill the demons.

I—

“U-umm, First Lieutenant Adler?” a familiar voice asks from behind. “The corporal told me you’d be here and hungry, and I could take a break, so I figured I’d come bring you this!” Clover says.

I spin around in the chair to look at what she’s brought me. A few bags of chips, a chocolate bar with caramel, and a sealed bottle of chocolate milk.

Am I a fucking child to her?

“So-sorry, I wanted to bring you something healthier, but I was worried I might trip and fall while bringing you a tray of food or that it might get cold, or birds might fly down and steal it, or… so I got you this!” she explains.

Looking at her hands… they’re red and the skin looks scraped. “You did trip, didn’t you?” I ask.

“I… can’t deny that.”