PROJECT: CAYRO

Star Zaraki:

August 25, 2025

21:43 EST

Sky-Car 02

Virginia Coastline

I couldn’t stop thinking about Cayro as I stared down at the radar. A small blip suddenly appeared, moving fast toward us.

“Captain, there’s an unidentified object closing in on us,” I reported, my voice steady but laced with concern.

“I see it, but it’s too small to be armed. Keep an eye on it, though,” he ordered, his tone calm but authoritative.

“Roger, Sir. Keeping my heading toward the Bractons’ house,” I replied, my eyes locked on the radar, refusing to let any detail slip past.

“Good. We need to get there before the military notices us,” he added, the urgency creeping into his voice.

Suddenly, two A-10 Warthogs appeared out of nowhere, hurtling toward us with deadly intent. My heart lurched as I screamed into the radio, “CAPTAIN! LOOK OUT!”

I yanked the controls, banking hard to avoid their path of fire. The Captain narrowly dodged one of the fighter jets, its wingtip missing him by mere inches. My breath caught in my throat, but there was no time to dwell on close calls.

“So, they want to play hide, seek, and destroy. I love that game. Star, arm all weapons and prepare for battle,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos with a sharp edge.

I moved swiftly, arming the weapon systems and defenses. The Skycar responded with mechanical precision, transforming into its combat mode. The heads-up display flickered to life, switching to night vision while the wings slid up and back, giving the craft a predatory stance. I could hear the bay doors open, lowering the anti-air missiles and the 30-millimeter chain gun. A sickly green target indicator appeared on my display. This was what the Skycar was built for—a beast ready to unleash hell.

As one of the Warthogs closed in on the Captain’s tail, he executed a daring nosedive, using the underbelly jets to push the Skycar sideways. He threw on the flaps, slowing his descent just enough to let the Waerthog overshoot, giving him the upper hand. Watching him fly was like witnessing art in motion, each maneuver executed with flawless precision. But then, something shot past him—a blur that my eyes could barely track.

“Holy shit, what was that?” the Captain blurted out over the radio, his shock mirroring my own.

“It was Cayro,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the reality of the situation settling like a weight in my chest.

“Has he lost his damn mind?!” the Captain yelled, voicing the panic that was now bubbling up inside me. What the hell was Cayro thinking, flying straight into a dogfight? If he was trying to impress me, I swear, I’d kick his ass if he made it to the Autumn alive.

“To fly straight into the middle of a dogfight, that boy either has no brains or has some large brass balls. Anyway, where is he going?” the Captain asked, his voice a mix of exasperation and grudging respect.

“Sir, I think he’s headed to the Autumn,” I replied, my tone sharp with frustration. This was not the time for heroics.

My blood ran cold as I saw one of the fighters lock onto Cayro.

“Oh shit,” the Captain muttered, seeing the same thing I had.

Cayro glanced over his shoulder, and I could see him mouth the word “Fuck” as he realized the fighter was on his tail.

Without hesitation, Cayro nosedived straight down, trying to shake the fighter, but it clung to him like a shadow. He flipped and rolled, every maneuver executed perfectly, but it wasn’t enough. The plane started firing, and I felt the blood drain from my face. One hit, and it would be over.

Desperation clawed at me. I had to intercept the fighter, get it off Cayro’s tail before he was turned into debris. He nosedived again, pulling off a full Drop Out Turn—an impossible maneuver, especially in the middle of a dogfight. But somehow, Cayro did it, evading the A-10 with a skill that left me breathless.

“Damn, he just did a Drop Out Turn in the middle of a dogfight!” the Captain exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

I could only nod, too focused on keeping him safe to process what I had just witnessed. If we made it out of this alive, I’d have a few words for him—starting with how utterly insane he was.

“Yep, I’m gonna kill him if they don’t,” I growled, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

But the situation quickly spiraled further out of control. The second plane was now barreling straight toward Cayro, while the first had locked back onto him, doggedly pursuing him. I kept my eyes on Cayro, my heart pounding as he flew directly into the path of the incoming fighter. What the hell was he thinking?

And then, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The two fighters screamed toward each other, with Cayro caught in the deadly space between them. At the last possible second, he pulled up, but not before the trailing fighter opened fire. I watched in horror as the bullets ripped through his left wing, sending him veering off course. My breath caught in my throat as I banked hard to follow him, my pulse a drumbeat in my ears. The two planes missed each other by a hair, but before I could process what had happened, a bright green line of light sliced through the sky, striking the fighters. They exploded into two balls of fire, a dazzling but terrifying display of destruction.

I barely managed to dodge the debris as I hurtled toward Cayro, shock and adrenaline surging through my veins. As the smoke cleared, I caught sight of Cayro’s board, damaged and shaking violently. I knew it wouldn’t last much longer under the stress he was putting it through. Then, as if in slow motion, the wing broke off, sending him into a freefall.

“Captain, Cayro!” I shouted into the radio, my voice laced with panic.

“What! Shit! Star, can you reach him?” the Captain’s voice crackled with urgency.

It was a stupid question—of course, I was already diving toward him at full speed. I wasn’t going to let him die, no matter how pissed off I was. This was going to be rough, but I had to catch him. I slid open the pilot door and performed a barrel roll two hundred feet above the water’s surface, positioning myself perfectly beneath him. He hit the inner roof of my cockpit with a sickening thud before landing across my lap, unconscious. His board smashed into the side of my Skycar, leaving a dent and jamming the door. My fury flared even hotter.

He let out a groan of pain as he began to come to. I didn’t give him a chance to wake up fully. Reaching behind the seat, I grabbed a wrench from the toolbox and, without hesitation, whacked him on the head, knocking him out cold again. Maybe next time he’d think twice before pulling a stunt like this and nearly getting himself killed—and damaging my damn vehicle in the process.

“What was that?” the Captain’s voice came through the radio, snapping me back to the present.

“Nothing, Sir,” I replied quickly, realizing too late that I’d been transmitting, and tossed the wrench into the backseat.

“Ok, well, is Cayro alright?” he asked, his concern evident.

“Yep, he’ll live,” I replied tersely, glancing over at the now unconscious Cayro. A nasty bump was forming on the back of his head, with a thin trickle of blood staining his hair. Great, now I was going to have to clean blood out of my Skycar too. Just what I needed.

My eyelid twitched with frustration, and then something caught my eye—a flickering light. I looked down and saw Cayro’s phone, the screen cracked and flickering ominously poking out of his pocket. Good thing the Captain planned to toss this thing off the ship when we got there. The last thing we needed was anyone using it to track us. I yanked the phone out of his back pocket and, with a flick of my arm, chucked it out of the jammed door. The satisfying sound of it bouncing off the side of the Skycar made me grin despite everything. Let this be a lesson for him—don’t mess with me, and don’t risk your life like a damn fool.