Tales from the 525th ReBOOT: Nightmare

August 16th, 1940, Britannia.

“Neuroi! Bearing 090! Here we go!”

The skies above Britannia’s coast grew hostile as a large Neuroi rolled in across the Channel. Flak guns down below open fire on the enemy creating dark black splotches against the blue sky. Beams rain down in response, immediately destroying the AA facilities with no survivors.

Meanwhile at RAF Tangmere, the Britannian 601 Witch Squadron is scrambling to get airborne. Among the group is Wilma Fiske. She speeds through her preflight checklist in a rush to get into the action.

“This is Fiske. Preflight complete. Taking off now!”

With a ‘ZOOM’ the young witch takes to the sky. Her Striker Unit, a Hawk Hurricane, though less sleek compared to its Ultramarine Spitfire cousins, gets the job done just as well.

She formed up alongside the rest of the squad as they approached the coastline.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” She said.

“Red Eight. Glad you could finally join us. Stay close, reports say there are quite a large number of Neuroi approaching.” The squadron leader commanded.

“You’re that Liberion girl. Fiske, right? The bobsled driver that had moved to Faraway before the war?” Another member asked.

“Y-Yeah, that’s me.” Fiske replied, nervously.

“Well we’ve heard of you, are you sure you can handle yourself up here?” The girl asked again.

“I- Yes, Don’t worry about me. Let's just focus on the enemy.” Fiske answered.

“Good idea. Girls. Enemy confirmed, 12 o’clock. Take them down!” The squadron leader said.

And just like that a dogfight had begun. The eight Britannian witches rushed the Neuroi threat. The group engaged, opening fire with their machine guns, peppering the side of the flying beast. Fiske rolled underneath the Neuroi, taking some pot shots of her own before returning to formation.

Unfortunately for the 601 Squadron, several small type Neuroi began breaking off from the apparent “mothership”.

“More ‘eh? Well, more fun for us it seems” One Britannian witch said with a laugh.

“Split up girls, Red Eight, stick with Red Seven.”

Fiske stuck to her element lead like glue, and the latter began shooting at two small Neuroi. They both exploded into white fragments. Fiske, lagging behind slightly, caught the attention of the other witch.

“Keep up, girlie. Lets go.” Red Seven commanded.

As she said this, though, a red beam from the larger Neuroi pierced the sky. Luckily the Britannian deployed her shield, deflecting the beam.

“No time to mess around. Come on.”

Fiske focused for a second, then with a burst of magic her speed rapidly increased. This boost returned her to the other witch’s right side. The duo began taking more shots at small Neuroi. Another red beam filled the sky.

“AHH!!”

Fiske shuttered. The squadron’s number two had taken a grazing hit to her Striker Unit. She had been unable to deploy her shield in time amongst the chaos.

“Red Two, return to base. Fiske- Red Eight, break off and help escort her home!” Red One yelled.

Fiske broke off from alongside Red Seven and joined the damaged witch. She fired her weapon at the enemy as she descended before turning to face the witch. A trailing Neuroi took a hit, but did not go down. It turned around to continue fighting the rest of the squadron.

“Red Eight, t-thanks for the assist.”

“No problem, let’s get you home-” Fiske paused. Time seemed to slow down. Turning and looking over her shoulder she saw it. Another beam from the larger Neuroi was coming, almost like the enemy was blocking their retreat. It was too late.

An explosion rocked the sky as the beam hit her half-deployed shield. Fiske took most of the hit, and it hurt. In an instant the witch was tumbling to the ground. Her eyes half closed and in extreme pain she watched the ground approach.

“Fiske? FISKE?!?!?!”

She closed her eyes. The screams of the witch she tried to escort, alongside the rest of the 601 Squadron, filling her radio.

Then, silence. Nothing but her rapid breaths as she descended faster and faster. She knew the ground was coming up. She knew what happened next. She prepared for it…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wilma?! Billie! Wake up!! Are you okay!?”

The witch quickly opened her eyes, not knowing where she was.

“Billie! What’s gotten into you?”

That voice. It was familiar.

Gia.

Fiske let out a long sigh. She rolled over and to her surprise, her squadronmate and close friend Gianna Fibbia was lying beside her with a very concerned look on her face. She looked behind her friend at the window. It was the middle of the night.

‘Just a nightmare...’

“Gia… I-I’m sorry. I… I dreamt about that day.” She whispered.

Her friend scooched closer, getting right up to Fiske.

“Don’t worry Fiske. You’re okay now. I’m here with ya.”

Fiske began to tear up. Gia responded by wrapping her hands around her friend.

She hugged Fiske for a while before Fiske finally spoke up.

“t-thank you… Gia… C-Can you lay here with me for a while longer?” She asked, quietly.

“Of course. As long as you need me too.” Gia replied. She laid with Fiske for the rest of the night without question until the sun came up.