Sunset's Isekai

by Wanderer D


Great Expectations (Macross Δ & Others)

Sunset's Isekai
Great Expectations (Macross Δ)
By Wanderer D

*Cast from Delta at bottom of document.

The planet Ragna was—arguably—one of the most idyllic planets under the New United Nations Government.

Clear skies, beachside property, friendly local species (both sapient and non), shimmering, glimmering, sparkly oceans that spread as far as one could see… overall it was extraordinarily beautiful. Especially from the top deck of the CV/C-110 Hemera, the carrier where Delta Squadron nested, and which was currently attached to the SDF/C-108 Macross Elysion. 

Mirage stood atop of her plane—the custom-painted VF-31C Siegfried—somberly gazing at the horizon, admiring the expanse of the planet  all around her, yet deeply in thought about less pleasant things.

The beauty of Ragna never tired her, although she didn't allow it to show as often as she should—especially with her charge around—but it wasn't her relationship to Hayate Immelman, Freyja Wion, or Walküre (or even the war) that darkened her thoughts right now.

Time had passed since she had said her silent goodbyes to her superior, Messer Ihlefeld, and yet, his words and observations still echoed in her mind. Having devoted herself to piloting, her whole life, her whole career, she had endeavored to live up to her name.

Mirage Farina Jenius

As if the last name by itself wasn't enough through association, the fact that it was conspicuously close to the old Earth Language word that meant 'genius' simply made it worse. It seemed to taunt her and mock her… although no one in her family had ever shown any sign of disapproval, it was very clear to her that the tradition of extraordinary pilots had simply diluted too much by the time the genetic material got around to her.

"Your flying is manual-grade and predictable."

What a thing to say to a member of the Jenius family. No pressure there. It's not like her former superior was brutally honest with his assessments and that probably was already in her file… and even if Masser had said it with the full objective of helping her without formally noting it, the fact of the matter was that it just made her feel… inadequate.

She glanced to Hayate, the slightly younger pilot that had been assigned to her for training. He was at that moment literally dancing with one of the heavy lifting mecha to one of Walküre's songs while the crew laughed and cheered. 

As much as it pained her to admit it, she didn't think she had it in her to be so… in tune with her mecha.

Hayate's movements were focused and seamless when he was in that state. He turned, slid, and did things with a mecha designed to move heavy equipment that seemed borderline grotesque in its fluidity… lifting machines shouldn't be able to move like that.

And yet, he made the mecha do it. 

He obviously had issues when it came to flying his own plane in contrast to other mechas—mostly due to his resistance to taking killing shots, ignoring orders, and general stubbornness—that somehow bottled him up and prevented that grace from emerging during battle, but she knew it was just a matter of time before he'd break through whatever wall was holding him back. 

He'd dance way past her, leaving her in the shadows of not just her entire family and Masser, but her own trainee as well.

With those dark thoughts in mind, she jumped off the cockpit and landed lightly on the deck. Even though a couple of people noticed her, they made no attempt to reach out. If her mood was plain on her face, she couldn't blame them.

Rather than stick around and mope, she decided it was probably time to take a walk around town. 

A few minutes later, she walked down the familiar streets of Barette City. The city itself was very peculiar, designed to cater to the humans, Zentradi, and other species that were part of the Macross Fleet, while still being very much Ragnan.

She loved living with the amphibious humanoids, even if she'd never be as agile a swimmer as any of them—lacking their natural advantages and living next to and under the water their whole lives—their culture, their open-mindedness, their welcoming and friendly personalities… it was a place well worth protecting, even if she wasn't one of the best.

She paused, feeling as if something was out of place. She had walked this road home many times, so it took her only a moment to see the bar sign. 

'There's a new place in town?' She approached the door on the side of what she could have sworn was someone's house, but it had a distinctly different look to it than the rest of the town did. 

The door was framed by an arch of stones, which clashed with the other entrances, since Ragnan's designed their entrances smooth and without crevices. The door was rustic, made of  wood of some sort—certainly nothing local—and it was decorated with a stylized sun of some sort, split in half of reds and golds.

And next to it, was a small blackboard. 

"Aviator's Night special," she read aloud. "All pilots get the first drink on the house. Wide selection of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks. Huh." She considered the entrance. Usually she wasn't into visiting bars, but Masser's words and her own feelings of self-loathing were battling her right now. Her instincts also seemed to be edging her towards the door.

"Deculture," she muttered, rolling her eyes. She grabbed the door, opened it, and walked in. She let her eyes grow accustomed to the lower light, as the door closed behind her, the silver bell above it ringing once more, announcing her arrival.

She was in a small hallway that had a couple of steps ahead, where she could see several tables and already hear people talking. She glanced back at the door, already regretting getting in there, but what was done, was done, and it would be rude for an officer to leave immediately after stepping in. Plus, she didn't recognize any of the voices, which was a good sign as far as she was concerned.

She walked through and up the two steps, finding herself on something that would have been more at home inside one of the Macross Cities. Perhaps in a more upscale area. She believed the style bar was called speak-easy, something related to an ancient occurrence humans had back on Earth, where some places were hidden away for their customers to be able to talk to each other without worrying about unwanted ears.

Funny enough, that suited her just fine right now. The decor however, was… different. Several species were portrayed on posters and pictures of the bartender with guests. Some of them fantastical even, but with the galaxy being as vast as it was… could it be that the bartender had been all over the known universe?

"Welcome to Sunset's Isekai, my little bar in the Omniverse. I'm Sunset Shimmer, pleasure to meet you." the bartender called out to Mirage, making the other guests pause to look at her. 

They were mostly human. Except for the pig. Shaking her head, she headed over to the bar, where the smiling woman waited for her. Considering all the pictures and paraphernalia, she was either older than she looked, or had a lot of money to jump all over the place. Mirage cleared her throat and sat down as the other patrons resumed their conversations.

They were an odd group. All of them wore overalls as pilots would, but she didn't recognize the insignias.

"Since you're a first-time visitor, the first drink is on the house," Sunset said, "and since you're also a pilot, that means you get another drink on the house. Lucky you."

Mirage blinked and turned to look at Sunset. "How did you know I was a pilot?"

Sunset raised an eyebrow, and Mirage looked down at herself. She was wearing the purple and white body-fitting overalls she wore during flights. "Oh."

"Lot on your mind, huh?" Sunset asked, smiling gently. "That happens a lot here."

Mirage pursed her lips as she looked around. "I've never seen that species before," she said after a moment. "And the other pilots… their uniforms don't match anything I've seen around. They look… well, old."

"Hm." Sunset nodded. "You're from… one of the UN Spacy types, huh? We'll get a few more from your universe later on, but I can guarantee that all of these guys are legit. Even the pig. His name is Marco, by the way, and you wouldn't believe it, but he's actually human."

Mirage gaped. "No way."

Sunset shrugged. "Well, it is Pilot's Night, why don't you mingle? All of these guys are incredible in their own way, you might find some interesting conversation. If you need anything, I'll be here at the bar."

"Right…" Mirage was having a tough time following some of the conversation. The bartender had implied something about her dimension, but was it just a fancy way of saying galaxy quadrant? People from different planets tended to call different worlds anything from 'yonder' to 'other realms', depending on the local language. Perhaps it was some sort of miscommunication. She glanced down at the menu.

"I think… I'll have a Harvest Sour," Mirage said, picking the first drink that caught her eye. There were some more exotic ones but… well, she might try them later.

"Coming right up."

Mirage turned around, studying the people there. At the moment there were only four other pilots besides herself. The two youngest ones couldn't be much older than Hayate, but they had the eyes of weathered pilots. Especially the one with the small scar on his cheek and darker hair.

The other two were the pig-like-human, and a man who looked to be in his late twenties. They both had their headgear on the table, the pig—Marco, had a brown aviator hat, something out of a museum next to him, made of leather and with thick glasses to protect his eyes.

Next to his table mate, was a white helmet, much more familiar-looking (if still antiquated) completely white except for a stylized red cross. 

"You can't be serious!" one of the younger pilots exclaimed, drawing her attention to him. He had sandy-brown hair and looked more like an engineer than a pilot, if she was honest. Earlier on he had seemed calm and polite, but right now he was standing up, both hands on the table staring at his impassive counterpart. "You can't possibly do that! There's no way you did that! The sheer forces alone would tear you and your machine apart!"

"Hey!" Marco called out. "Keep it down Claus, night's just starting and you're already acting like Maverick."

The now identified Claus turned to look at the pig. "But, Marco, Sagara here just told me he was slammed by the fist of a gorilla-like machine from his world that's forty two meters high and weighs about fifteen hundred tons, and he stopped it with his nine meter tall, ten-ton robot!"

"That… sounds like a stretch," Mirage blurted, staring at Sagara.

"See? Even uh… the new girl… knows it's BS."

"Excuse me?" Mirage asked, glaring at the youngster. "Are you implying I know less about piloting than you because this is my first time at this bar?!"

"Kids, kids," Marco raised his voice. "Calm down. Claus, remember that Sagara's world has that strange technology… what did you call it that one time?"

"Lamda Drivers." Sagara said, leaning on one arm on the table while he sipped a small coffee. "And I'm not lying."

"Well, next time bring a damned video," Claus muttered, sitting down. He stole a couple of glances at Mirage before clearing his throat. "And uh… sorry. Just got a bit… um. Yeah, sorry."

"This is why I hate kids," Mirage muttered. She shook her head and passed the sheepish boy to sit down with the other two adults.

Marco guffawed when he heard her muttering. "Girl, you're not much older than them yourself. How old are you, seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Marco, it's rude to ask a lady her age," the other man said, shaking his head. He looked at her, measuring her up. "Seems like you're military, how long have you been flying?"

Mirage blinked. "About five years."

"Now who's being rude?" Marco asked, elbowing the other man. He grinned at her. "Allow me to introduce myself, Marco Pagot, at your service. But you can call me Porco, and this sourpus is Shin Kazama."

"Mirage," she said. "Mirage Farina Jenius."

"Well, things are going to be interesting," Marco said, and it looked like he was about to ask something when Shin elbowed him in turn, shaking his head.

Marco shrugged. "Eh. So why the frown, kid?" he asked instead. "Saw you walk in like a seagull had jammed itself in your propeller."

Mirage frowned. "My plane doesn't have prop—"

"It's a figure of speech," Sunset said, setting Mirage's drink in front of her on top of a coaster.

"Oh."

"What Marco means is that you walked in looking like you had a lot on your mind," Shin added. "Is it something you'd like to talk about?"

She was about to answer when the door opened again, and a young man in his twenties with a mess of brown hair and an odd suit stepped into the room. 'Is that medieval armor?!' His left leg had been replaced by a simple mechanical appendage, but he walked in with a confidence that made that a minor detail at best.

It was just unusual due to the technology level. It was starting to dawn on Mirage that she really wasn't in her world right now.

"Hey, hey," another voice called behind him as the silver bell chimed again. "I thought this was a pilot's night, since when do dragon riders count?"

The first man stopped and rolled his eyes. "You really want to argue the point, Pete? I'll make sure to bring it up when Lessa comes in later."

The second man had similar overalls to those that Shin was wearing, although his were all a dark gray, with what she recognized as one of the old Earth national patches on his arm. He grinned and lifted his hands in surrender. "Nope, all good here. Also, remember to call me Maverick, Hiccup."

Hiccup laughed, motioning with his head to the bar, where Sunset already had two drinks out, one a flagon of what appeared to be beer, and the other a small glass with ice and some sort of drink in it. 'Probably whiskey', Mirage thought.

"Hi Hiccup, where's Astrid?" Sunset asked, passing him the drink.

"She's home, we couldn't find anyone to take care of the kids, but she sends her regards," he replied, taking the beer with a grin. "Also, Toothless said that he's looking forward to Dragon night again."

Sunset shrugged. "It's on the calendar, don't worry."

Hiccup looked around and headed to where Mirage, Marco, and Shin were sitting, while Maverick took a seat at the bar, very obviously hitting on Sunset.

"Hey guys," he said, walking around to sit between Marco and Shin. "I see we have a new face here."

Mirage blinked while the others introduced her. She could have sworn there was no other seat at the table. She shook her head and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Well, very nice to meet you, Mirage," he said. "I'm Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third."

"Heir to the throne of Berk! King of the Vikings! Greatest Dragon Master to ever live!" Marco added.

"Nooo, well yes." Hiccup frowned, glancing at the pig with some measure of annoyance.
"Technically." He cringed at Shin's look. "Fine. Yes. But just call me Hiccup."

"Anyway," Marco spoke up before she could ask about their newest tablemate's name and title, "you were saying?"

Mirage paused. She was aware that none of these people knew her, and being from different worlds, chances were that they'd never be able to share what they learned from her with her friends or teammates. She nodded, taking a deep breath and a deep drink of her Harvest Sour.

"I've been struggling," she confessed after putting down the mostly empty glass. "I'm a good pilot, but apparently that's as far as I can get." She stared bitterly at her drink. Sour. That fit her mood. "My superior officer called my flying predictable and manual-grade."

"Aaand that's not good?" Hiccup asked, earning himself a look from the other pilots.

Shin leaned back. "Depends. If you want to be an instructor, that sets a good precedent for other pilots to start with, but stepping out of the box is what makes the difference between a good pilot and a great pilot."

"Especially in war," Marco grumbled, nodding in acknowledgment of Shin's point. "Think about it Hiccup, if your flying was predictable, do you think you could have survived all those battles you and Toothless were in?"

"It's not just that…" Mirage groaned, finishing the last of her sour, "it's my name. Or my last name in any case. The Jenius family has a long history of ace pilots, and I… I'm not."

"Jenius?" Hiccup asked, then he blinked and leaned back a little. "Ooooh." He grinned nervously. "Oh."

Mirage narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing!" Hiccup said quickly. "If it helps, I know exactly what you mean."

"Oh?" It was her turn to cross her arms and show disbelief. "Do tell."

"Well, before my people made friends with dragons, we were… well, we still are, but the point is that 'rowdy' and 'violent' does describe us vikings very well. And um, well my father, Stoic the Vast, was… uh, very different from me."

Mirage leaned back when someone placed what looked like chocolate milk in a martini glass in front of her. She looked up and had to fight back a gasp at the bird-girl that had brought it to the table. She had seen ducks before, but never like this.

"Maverick sends you this, he thinks you need it," the girl said, and Mirage looked past her to where Maverick had sat down at the end of the bar and raised a glass to her. 'Was the bar always that long?' 

She looked around, just realizing that there were a lot more pilots here than before. Sagara's table had two new young pilots in it, one with a long braid and dressed in a chinese-inspired getup, and a short-haired pilot in overalls that resembled more what the Macross fleet would use, but not quite.

Mirage nodded in thanks to him and was wondering if she should say something when the bell chimed again, and Maverick turned his attention to the tall, handsome black human that had walked in. "Hey, if it isn't Steve Hiller, come on buddy, tell me about them aliens!"

Instead, she turned to the serving girl. "Um, thank you. What is it?"

"Chocolate Martini," she replied. "And don't worry, Maverick flirts a lot, but he's mellowed down ever since Sunset set his head on fire." She grinned. "It was an illusion, but it proved the point."

"Ah, Lena," Hiccup called out, "excellent timing, can you do me a favor and show Mirage here what my dad looked like?"

Lena snorted. "Fine, but you're letting me ride Toothless next time I visit."

Hiccup grinned. "Deal."

Lena motioned with her hands and—to the utter confusion of Mirage—small lights floated out of them before forming the image of a very big man with a full beard, massive muscles and stern expression.

"Yep," Hiccup said with a wistful smile, "that's my dad. Thanks, Lena."

"Anytime." The duck serving girl turned around and headed to the bar again, where Sunset was currently talking to another alien she had never seen before, a woman in casual clothes of some sort, with white and black striped horns (or tentacles, she wasn't sure).

"Yeah, so, that was him," Hiccup said, drawing her attention back to him as he motioned from the hologram to himself. "This is me. I was even more scrawny back then, and I didn't want to do what he and the others did, which was hunt and kill dragons… but I was the son of the chief and well…" He cleared his throat as the image dissipated. "A huge disappointment for the longest time."

Mirage was quiet for a moment, soaking the weirdness, but also Hiccup's words in. She tried her martini, and it was delicious. "So, what did you do?" she asked.

Hiccup shrugged, raising his arms helplessly. "I tried to be something I'm not, and I failed so miserably I became the first Viking—"

"Second. Your mom does count," Shin pointed out with a small smile. 

"Ahem, yes, second viking to ride a dragon," Hiccup clarified. "It took some time, but after some crazy, crazy stunts, I managed to turn the town's ideas around." He took a swig of his beer. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you keep trying to live up to everyone's expectations, you're going to suffer for it."

Mirage frowned, deciding to drink a little more martini rather than saying her initial thoughts. "But without having set expectations, how am I supposed to improve?" She asked, shaking her head."If I can't live up to the expectations of Masser or the others, someone will get killed."

"The question then is, are you trying to live up to the expectations of others to make sure you and they survive," Shin asked gently, "or because you expect to be just that good a pilot regardless of what others see in you?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "Sometimes all you can do is take the advice, keep your head on your shoulders and work on improving."

"But working on improving is not your problem is it?" Marco asked, grinning knowingly. "I can tell you spend a lot of time on perfecting your skills. It's the mentality of it." He tapped his head with his finger. "If your superior hadn't thought you could handle it, he wouldn't have told you to think outside the manual."

"It feels like he was asking me to not think like a fighter pilot," Mirage muttered. "What about protocol? Orders? I can't be like Hayate and just ignore things."

"I wouldn't worry too much about breaking protocol in order to think outside the box," Shin said, "look around. Most of the pilots here are in active duty in their own worlds, and outside of Maverick, they don't actively try to stick it to the man."

"Speak for yourself!" A man sitting next to some sort of silver, female robot called from his table nearby.

"Come on, Joker," Hiccup said, "we're trying to have a conversation here."

"Alright, suit yourself. Just trying to be helpful, that's all," he replied, turning to talk to the fox and bird sitting with them.

The place was starting to really get busy. In addition to Joker and his table, another pilot, this one dressed like a pirate out of one of those videos she used to watch as a little girl, with his short, spiky blonde hair kept in control only by a pair of goggles, had joined Maverick and Steve, and was describing flying something that sounded conspicuously like a boat.

On another table, a bear in a shirt and a pilot's cap was animatedly talking to a young woman in a cyan overall that looked amused at both, his story, and the little squirrel creature she was feeding nuts to.

Besides Lena and Sunset, another girl was helping out with drinks, this being a teen with silver hair and green eyes that would sometimes float over to help. Behind the bar some sort of giant mouse woman in red clothes was helping mix drinks for other pilots… one of which…

"Is… that Basara Nekki?" she whispered.

"Oh, you know him?" Marco asked.

Mirage nodded mutely, watching as Basara picked up a tray with several drinks and walked past them to a table where several other people were sitting. Including her aunt. "Yack deculture," she swore under her breath.

"Yeah," Hiccup said. "I guess we should've told you earlier, but I wasn't sure you were directly related."

Mirage turned to glare at him, and he shrugged, grinning sheepishly as Mylene Jenius just happened to catch Mirage's eyes when Basara set down her drink. Her aunt immediately stood up, staring at her. "Hold on a sec?! Is that you, Mirage? Wow, you've grown!"

It was then that Mirage realized that her aunt didn't look a day older than herself, as the latter excused herself from the table where the rest of Fire Bomber was sitting alongside a man and woman who she could've sworn was Alto Saotome, and Sheryl Nome.

Mirage stood, awkwardly returning the hug her much shorter aunt gave her. "Um. Hi."

Mylene stepped back, taking in Mirage and grinned. "Wow, the last I saw of you, my sister had sent me pictures of your fifth birthday."

"For shame Mirage," Hiccup said, grinning at her. "Look at you, abandoning your family for… how long?"

"It hasn't been thirteen years!" Mirage snapped, belatedly realizing she had given them her age. "I sent her a card just last week."

"Time dilation," the man sitting with Maverik and Steve said, "the bar doesn't care about when, how, or if. It's all about the present."

"Right, great explanation, Cid."

"Oh, just ignore them," Mylene said, walking Mirage over (after grabbing her milkshake) to a two-seater nearby. "How have you been? I heard from sis that you were going to attend flight school."

"Well, clearly it worked, graduated with honors and now I serve with the Macross Elysion fleet." Mirage said, still trying to process what was happening.

Mylene made a face. "Wow, you sound just like my dad. And Gamlin." 

"Uh… sorry?"

"Nah, it's okay." Mylene leaned over her milkshake. "So… tell me. You already have a boyfriend? Does he sing?"

"Uh… no?" Mirage stammered. "I-I'm sorry, I'm still trying to process this. How old are you?"

"Hmph." Mylene crossed her arms and fake-glared at her. "A lady never tells!" She leaned in, glancing around before speaking. "But you're older."

Mirage closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay, alright. I can handle Walküre, I can handle this."

"What's Walküre? Some sort of drink?"

"It's a group… but anyway," Mirage cleared her throat. "How come you're here?"

"Oh, Basara comes here occasionally, and I convinced him to bring us this time around. We'll be playing later on on the stage." Mylene said. "What about you?"

"What stage? There's no…" Mirage followed the direction Mylene's finger was pointing to a small stage with several instruments already on it. "Of course." She sighed. "I'm trying to sort out some things," she said. 

She studied Mylene. She looked much younger than she had the last time they had managed to talk. Half her age, maybe. She had always liked her aunt, although they didn't talk much. Mylene was much more relaxed about things than some of her other aunts. Really dedicated, but less intense than the others, and had encouraged her through her early years in the academy. "I'm trying to figure out… I guess what type of pilot I want to be."

"Oh?" Mylene tilted her head. "Aren't you too old for that?"

"Mylene!"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm joking! Seriously though, I'd thought you'd have it down, being a member of our family and all that."

Mirage grimaced. "No. And that's part of the problem. I feel like I'm letting down the name Jenius with my… predictable flying," she muttered.

Mylene's smile softened. "Hey, sorry, but don't feel bad. We all feel like that at the beginning. No matter how good we are, we'll never be as good as mom or dad."

"But you and Fire Bomber are all excellent pilots!" Mirage countered. "I'm just… okay. Good enough to teach newbies how to do it, but not enough to shine. Soon enough even my charges will surpass me."

"Do you do it just for recognition?" Lena asked, bringing over a menu for Mirage as she took the empty martini glass. "Sorry, couldn't help but overhear. I'm asking because although I'm not a pilot, I can relate a little."

Mirage blinked. "What? Of course I…" She trailed off. 'Why AM I doing it?'

"Look, I know I shouldn't butt in, but, everyone here flies for different reasons, and they all love it for different reasons, right?" Lena said, she nodded over to where the bear had been joined by another duck, this one in an old-style pilot's getup. "That one there is Della Duck, she loves adventure, and to her flying is an adventure. That's why she enjoys it so much, and I think part of why she's so good." She shrugged. "That's my opinion though. What'd you like next?"

Looking down at the menu, Mirage checked the options. "I uh… I'd like a Jet Pilot, please."

Lena nodded, took the menu and started walking away. "Coming right up!"

Mirage turned to look at Mylene, who was staring at her with an inscrutable expression. It was odd seeing her aunt (beyond the fact that she was much younger) like this, so she didn't know how to react to the sudden seriousness she was exuding. "Uh… what?"

"Why do you fly?" Mylene asked. "Do you still know?"

That question… was one she had really avoided for some time now. "I don't know what you mean," she mumbled, "it's a thing we Jeniuses do, right? Flying."

"That can't be your only reason!" Mylene stated, smacking the table with her fist and almost toppling over her chocolate milkshake. "Deculture, Mirage, that's not what this is all about, is it?"

"Language!" Mirage immediately said. Aunt or not, that was still not okay in polite company.

"Oh, don't give me that. I heard you swear earlier."

"Yack Deculture."

"Anyway, don't try to change the topic!" Mylene shook her head. "Be honest, we're trying to help you here."

"I-I don't know!" Mirage snapped. "Okay? I remember when I got accepted into the academy… I was going to do what grandad did. What you did. What my mom and other aunts did. I wanted to make you all proud! Be as good as all of you!"

"And what makes you think we're not proud already?" Mylene asked, her voice gentle. She smiled encouragingly. "You're a Second Lieutenant already right? That means you've worked really hard to get there. And even though I only know you from a few videos and calls as a child, and a few minutes now, I can tell you belong here with all of us. You don't have to worry about making your family proud. We all can appreciate how hard it is to do what we do."

For a sixteen year-old-ish teenager she packed quite the emotional punch. Mirage felt herself tearing up a little and fought to hold the tears back.

"Oh no," Mylene said, eyes wide and shaking her hands desperately. "Did I break her? I was trying to be nice!"

Hiccup leaned back on his chair, balancing perilously on the two back legs long enough to take a look at Mirage's face before falling back into place. "Nope," he said, "she just had an epiphany."

Mirage couldn’t even bring herself to glare at Hiccup. He was right, it had just dawned on her that, other than doing her job, or simply following the footsteps of her family, she had no reason to fly. Not that there was anything wrong with flying, but that’s what set the others apart from her. 

She barely noticed someone shooing Mylene away as she was lead over to sit at the bar. Her thoughts were in turmoil. The key had always been there, but she'd been to focused on repetitive training and studying and trying the moves of others without being able to break that glass ceiling.

Firebomber's amazing flying was fueled by their musical passion. Her grandfather had always loved flying, as evidenced by his early years, and her grandmother had always loved battle. They had both loved tricky maneuvers and challenging each other. 

Hayate loved the freedom it brought him to be part of the wind, that’s why he could let loose like he did. All the great pilots had that little something else that made them be more than just a person flying a machine, and as she heard the conversations going on around her, she realized that she was missing just that little part of being a pilot.

Passion.

She noticed the drink that was right in front of her and blinked, only now realizing she was at the bar away from the others, with only Sunset around.

"I figured you needed just a little more space," Sunset said, "that and Mylene was panicking, so I didn't want her to interrupt your thoughts."

"Um… thanks," Mirage said, taking her drink and sheepishly drinking a bit. "I was that obvious?"

"When you've been doing this as long as I have, you learn to see the signs," Sunset replied. "Fate, destiny, the universe, my bar… call it whatever you want, but you ended up here, when you needed help." She nodded at the barfull of pilots of all sorts as yet more walked in, this one an attractive human male dressed in black and white, like a cowboy, and accompanied by a tall, very furry creature. He was smiling and bumping fists with others as he went on to join Maverick.

 "Everyone here flies something different. F15s, test airplanes, Gundams, biplanes… things that don't exactly fall into those categories but require piloting… and you're one of them," Sunset said.

"And you're not?"

Sunset smiled. "I'm pretty handy with a motorcycle, but no, not this kind of piloting."

Mirage looked down at her drink. "I realized earlier that I didn't have any passion for flying… or I do, but I don't know what motivates me anymore. I used to think living up to my family's fame was what I was supposed to do but… the more I realized I would never be good enough for that… the less important it became, until I was just… flying for the sake of doing my job."

"I think a lot of us, if not everyone, wonders at some point what is our motivation for doing something," Sunset said after a moment. "Sometimes it helps us realize that whatever it is is not enough for us. Sometimes it feeds our willpower to try harder. But you're still piloting, you're here worrying about something you feel passionate about." 

Sunset reached over and gave Mirage's hand a squeeze. "I've got some ideas for the future if you're interested, but first, why don't you mingle? Listen to the others about their adventures, about their lives and what they love." 

"You think I might find what I'm looking for?"

Sunset smiled, nodding. "I think you'll figure it out. They might look quirky, funny, furry, scaly, feathery, too serious, too goofy… but they are your people. You literally have family here. But there's two particular ones you might want to meet. Grab your drink."

Straightening a little from the pep talk, Mirage grabbed her Jet Pilot and followed Sunset across the bar. It wasn't just her imagination, the place was bigger now than earlier, when she had walked in. It hadn't been tiny, but there hadn't been these many tables at all. Pilots of all worlds talked to each other, and the bar staff, surprisingly.

"Ah, Ahsoka, I was just telling Din here that you'd be perfect to teach at my new Jedi Academy."

"Webby has been asking me non-stop to convince Uncle Scrooge to allow her to join you guys…"

"I'm telling you, Amuro, the math doesn't make sense!"

"Says the guy that had a panic attack over the Lambda Drive."

"I don't want to hear that from a man that wants to pierce the heavens with a giant drill."

Everywhere the conversations were more and more surreal, and yet… she really felt at home. She was snapped out of her reverie when they reached the table they were aiming for. She shook her head to pay attention and almost choked.

"Gentlemen," Sunset said to the two pilots seating at the table, "this is Mirage Farina Jenius. Mirage, let me introduce you to Isamu, and—"

"Maximillian Jenius," the young pilot said, standing up and pulling the remaining free seat away from the table. "A pleasure to meet you. It seems we are related?"

Mirage nodded mutely as she took a seat, but shook it off when Sunset patted her on the shoulder. "I'll leave you guys to it. Enjoy!"

The RaguNyanNyan Restaurant was currently closed, which meant all the members of Walküre and Delta Flight were relaxing for the rest of the day… until the front door slammed open and Mirage stumbled in. She dropped her jacket, purse and some stuff on a table, seeming to consider sitting at it until she yawned and decided to just go to her room.

The singing stopped, the cooking paused and even the mercats stopped chasing each other as she waddled and heaved herself through the room towards the stairs.

They watched in silence as she dragged herself up the stairs, and remained quiet until they heard her door close upstairs.

"Was she drunk?" Hayate asked.

Freyja gasped. "No way."

The group of curious singers and pilots went upstairs to listen outside Mirage's door.

"I hear her snoring," Makina said, while her lover, Reina, nodded.

"Come on, let's give her some space," Hayate finally whispered. "She's never been even close to letting loose, I don't want to give her a hard time about it… yet."

The group grumbled but acquiesced.

"What do you think happened?" Freyja asked.

"Guys, check this out!" Marianne, Chuck's sister called out.

When the group gathered around her, she showed them an old-style printed out picture.

"Wow, that's a lot of people and aliens," Freyja said, staring at it. "Wait, I recognize some of them, isn't that Fire Bomber?"

"And Sheryl Nome," Reina noted, her usually unemotional tone almost breaking. Almost.

"I never knew Mirage knew so many famous people," Hayate muttered. "I always thought she was more of a shut-in."

"Hey, that looks like Admiral Jenius…" Chuck said. "I wonder how he keeps looking so young after so long? And is that… Isamu Alva Edison?"

"Who?" Hayate asked, only to be dragged back by Chuck. "What?!"

"You need to study your history."

Meanwhile, inside her room, Mirage snored away, a smile on her face, her hand holding tight the small silver key she had been gifted.

End Chapter