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The Mile-High Club	By : Crispeh Category: +S through Z > Storm Hawks Views: 3594 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Storm Hawks, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 5
Sorry about the delay everyone; I’m finally back from college for a while so I’ll have more time to write. I decided to go ahead and keep going with the Storm Hawks story even if I don’t see it on TV anymore. Plus, I got a new laptop for Christmas (thank you so much Santa, haha). Anyway, if I’m a little rusty at first, cut me some slack. Enjoy – Jason

The Mile-High Club

Chapter 5

Five years later.

The burning in my throat is back. I know it’s the booze, even though I’m used to it; I take another sip from the glass. Another thing I’m used to is this God-forsaken piece of Hell they call Mike’s Tavern. I turn my head 30 degrees to the right just in time to see a fellow “patron” vomiting up a mixture of cheap vodka and cocktail peanuts. Joy.

Even though I’m barely allowed to be here (getting my ID ready is just second nature now), it feels like I’ve spent decades wasting my life away inside this prison of tempation.

“Yo, Finnigan, you gonna pay for these this time? You know we got a hundred cosma limit.” Mike looks at me, icy and cold.

“Y-y-you I’m good for it,” I slur drunkenly, giving him a lopsided grin. I feel like sobbing behind my alcoholic exterior.

Suddenly I feel myself being lifted from the stool I’ve occupied for what seems like weeks. Each of my arms is taken under custody and I’m thrown into the freezing blackness of night. “You lazy ass bum, get a fucking job!” I hear someone sneer, and suddenly the tavern door is slammed shut in my face, the light cut off in an instant.

Shivering and alone, I shuffle clumsily through the city sidewalks. It must be around two in the morning but I’m not completely sure. The cold does a great job of giving me back some of my sobriety. I have to get back home or else I’ll freeze to death…even though a part of me has been dead for years.

Finally, I’m in front of my apartment door. The number is 609 but reads “606” because gravity and age has taken the last 9. I fumble with the lock for several moments before I’m able to enter my living quarters. The landlord said this apartment complex was built during the War of 2010, and fifteen years later, its deterioration is definitely noticeable.

“Heat on!” I shout, waiting for the central heating system to kick in. Nothing. “HEAT ON!” Nope.

I curse to no one and grab a blanket to wrap my fading body in. I look like a diet burrito with fire sauce oozing out, more or less my hair.

I sigh heavily before plopping down on my old, molding sofa. The only reason I can even live in this hellhole instead of the streets is because of the Storm Hawks. As a member of the team, the government paid us heavily after we disbanded. The Cyclonians are no longer a threat, but those days seemed like tea time in the parlor compared to the life I live now.

I think about my friends a lot; I miss them, to put it simple. Aerrow’s a top fleet commander, always making brief yet admirable appearances on TV, Radarr right by his side. Piper is a top engineer at some prestigious academy. Stork…we lost track of him a while ago, but we know he’s alive, at least. He always said he would never be on the Condor forever. As for Junko, he’s…

“…pissed off. I thought you guys had this under control!” I snarled, looking at my colleagues. One of them let out a small moan of fear and I backed off, mortified at myself. “I-I’m so sorry gentlemen; it’s been an extremely long day. We’ll just finish up in the morning.”

“It’s quite all right, mate. Have a good evening,” Dudley laughed nervously, shuffling out of the conference room. The others followed suit, not even attempting to look at me. As Head Ambassador to Earth and Senior Coordinator of the United Galaxies, it was my job to share peace and unity between beings; right now I’m doing a pretty piss poor job.

I finally left the conference room, briefcase in hand. Tomorrow we would present our newest caution case to the council and I needed it to be perfect; a lot was riding on this single campaign.

Rounding the corner, I smiled as I saw Dudley sitting the in lounge. “Miss me, Junks?”

“I hate it when you call me that, Mail,” I grinned even wider, grabbing him by the arm and off of the stool. We kissed briefly yet intimately and I hugged him. “I really hate keeping this on the DL. I’m sure the UG would understand.”

Grabbing my hand, Mail looked at me warmly. “You know it’s never going to change, love, especially in an organization like this. People want unity but when it comes to sexuality, the line is drawn.”

Mail Dudley, what a guy. I met him four years ago, after the Storm Hawks disbanded. The both of us went to the same university and found our studies matched perfectly, as well as other things. It was bizarre how someone like him popped into my life after so much heartache…well, I didn’t want to think about that right now.

Mail and I finally made a step forward a year ago and moved in together. In this day and age, gay marriages are legal, but are still frowned upon. It didn’t help that something was holding me back as well, and really that something was a someone if you wanted to get technical.

“Ready to head home?” he asked, seriousness readily creasing on his face. “Tomorrow is gonna be a doozy.”

“I love your accent, you sexy Britboy,” I grinned evilly, tackling him into a nearby couch. “I love you even more.”

That night in bed, I proved it.

______________________________________

Another infomercial formed into view, this one explaining how I could make thousands of dollars from home. “Wouldn’t that be nice.”

Sobered up, the Worries came back in a flood. The Worries were what kept me up at night. The Worries are what made me keep a handgun with a single bullet in my dresser. The Worries are what destroyed my life five years ago.

“Robert J. Finnigan, loser and nobody,” I said out loud. When nobody replied, I started to sob.

So you’re probably thinking, “Uh, what just happened?” Basically, I wanted to take a new angle with this story, so forgive me if I confused you. We’ll return next chapter to see what just happened to separate these two friends. Thanks for your reviews and comments!
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The Mile-High Club