A/N: This was conceived around the same time I started The Man with No Name. Think of it as a personal challenge to write my own rendition of the original Storm Hawks and have a bit of fun with their names. This will be either two or three chapters.

STITCHES

( chapter one: holding onto your cards )

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Oh, Gabriel, let me blow your horn. Let me blow your horn
Oh, I never did, did no harm. (Led Zepplin, In My Time of Dying)

- - -

He was the top student in his class to graduate from the Academy on Terra Atmosia. As he stood in line amongst his school mates, a continuous row of teenagers all wearing the same blue flight suit, his black hair and red eyes separated his appearance from the rest. Although he was behind the stage, he stood proudly in line with his chin held up high, and listened carefully to the audience for familiar voices. Behind him, a common boy with a common name urged him to take another step closer to the stage. They were sweating underneath the hot June sun and eager to seek relief underneath the festive blue tents on campus grounds.

"Hey, did your parents make it?" The girl behind the boy whispered, her pink hair fell over her face as her feet shuffled forward to prevent any idiots from taking her well earned spot. Lessons were over, exams were done, and now after four years of training they were ready to receive their diplomas and start their new lives as members of the Sky Knight organization. Parents, siblings, family friends, and grandparents made up the part of the audience, all seated in their simple aluminum chairs, but for the Cyclonian, there was no one to celebrate for him.

"And we want to thank the teachers, staff, and students for making this a wonderful year!" The student body groaned in unison. Everyone knew the headmaster was a talker, including the man himself. All campus assemblies started off with one of his cheesy speeches, and while they usually tolerated it for the sake of being courteous, for once they would love it if he just shut up.

"No," the boy admitted. "They couldn't get passes to attend the graduation."

The girl with the cotton candy hair offered her brief condolences before she disappeared back into the blue line.

The top student in the Academy was also the only native-born Cyclonian. His parents would not be in the audience because of high tensions regarding differing political structures and ideals between Terra Cyclonia and the general Atmos. They were largest piece of earth with the highest untapped reserve of unrefined crystals, and the damn monarchy didn't want to share candy with his friends. There was a lot of bullying on both sides, and the students at the Academy even had lessons on the situation.

Depression was upon them. Seven years ago there was an earthquake that destroyed several minor terras which also resulted in the increased presence of lava beasts from The Wastelands. Terra Cyclonia, being so close to the boiling ground, suffered economically when surrounding terras deemed air travel too dangerous for their ships and starved the people. The monarch protested their misguided fears, he said no land was safer from the monsters than his, and showed them seven hundred years of history to prove it. Once upon a time, all the lands of Atmos were under the rule of his ancestors, buried underneath forgotten epochs when terras used to drift aimlessly and public travel was impossible.

Grudges amongst the old drifted down to the young. The resentment was raised three bars higher when the Master declared he would send no more youths to the Council to train as Sky Knights. For the past two years no Cyclonian graduate was given a proper place in a squadron and their talent was left to waste. It was an insult to their people. There were untouched mountains on their land full of crystals, but no terra wanted the glittering stones regardless of their value.

"Fine," Master Cyclonis declared. "If no one will listen to us, if no one will help us - then we turn our backs on you." He summoned all his people to return to their homeland, to forget about the friends who were preoccupied with their own affairs and help him rebuild their nation. Families came and left him in storms. Those whose businesses suffered as a result of prejudice boarded Cyclonian-funded airships and made for the trek home. There, they learned with bitterness how they were betrayed. The Sky Council vetoed their standing position and would no longer protect any of their students.

It's a fact the future is held in the hands of the children. And Cyclonia's young were abandoned.

Whether it was a conscious decision to cut back on expenses, academies started shutting down everywhere. Sky Knights scrounged for new capable recruits as the white-capped river trickled down into an insufficient stream. Entrance exams became harder, students were turned away, and all this time Terra Cyclonia had no one to protect them.

And Master Cyclonis sat on his throne and spoke again. If the Council would not protect them, then he would create a new military himself, an institute where the young can belong regardless of gender, and find a place in service. He ordered factories built, raised the percentage of employment by thirty percent, and created the Talons.

But there were families who longed for the return of the Sky Knights and the days when passports weren't needed to travel to distant terras. One of those families, two parents with a single boy, sent their son to live off the mainland to fulfill his dream of joining a squadron. His grandfather served as a pilot once, he met his lifelong partner that way, and filled his grandson's head with tales of respect and adventure.

Fairy tales didn't last very long once a child grew up. Now, that boy was a proud young man and eager to receive his diploma, to see his name stamped on the walls of the last remaining campus that took in potential Sky Knights and their crew. One last hope.

Four years studying abroad with the occasional return trip back home. It was ridiculous, he concluded, for terras so close together to hold such animosity between them. If transportation rules weren't so strict, he could hitch a ride on an public airship and go home that way. However, that wasn't the case. Routes were less frequent and a lone traveller was either brave or foolish to embark on a journey to Cyclonia.

Sometimes, his method of transport was downright illegal. In fact, during the last week-long holiday on campus, that's exactly what he did. He stowed away on a fishing ship headed towards Terra Aquinos and came back knowing the exact layout of three other ships. One after another, he hitched a ride just to say hello back home.

After the graduation ceremony, the nineteen students were let loose on campus grounds. The festivities were all held outdoors following the school's long standing tradition.

Someone clapped him on the back. He turned his head around and saw his History instructor pat him on the back. "Always expected the best from you, and now you've finally earned it."

"Thank you, sir." The silver-and-gray haired man led him towards the buffet table and helped himself to an egg tart. The chef may be famous for his pot roast, but his assistant was equally well-known for her desserts. Bringing the flaky pastry to his mouth, he licked his lips and tried to maintain decorum as tasty crumbs flew out of his mouth and littered the ground.

"Do you want one?"

"No, thanks."

He wasn't hungry for food at the moment and it was guaranteed there was always more just in case the ravenous crowds wanted more. Aside from the blinding flashes of light as parents took photos of their grown-up children, he kept wandering amongst the masses looking for someone in particular.

"'ave you zeen ze Rebel Ducks?" A young lady with black hair approached him and he recognized her as a hopeful recruit for Terra Gale. She was a pretty, slender thing and a serious competitor in academic standings. However, it was her pacifist attitude that would never secure her a place as a Sky Knight. Sticking out his thumb, he pointed towards the group behind him. The telltale accent of his schoolmate's homeland was just too noticeable.

The party this year, he gleaned from a huddling group of instructors, had a lower budget compared to the previous group of graduates last year. There was talk about more terras becoming disenchanted with the Sky Council and more squadrons were getting lost in the storms. Inhabitants on Terra Xerxess recorded sightings of Talons flying above, and the Master's recent acquisition of a major motorcycle manufacturer was Atmosia's loss.

"They're called Switchblades. Quicker to produce in mass quantities."

"Don't forget we've got better machines. We have the Sky Knights."

"Sure. Look at the group of apprentices we churned out this year."

"Was that supposed to be sarcasm?"

Unhappy with the political talk, the youth with red eyes continued forward. The group of his choice wasn't present, a squadron with less than thirty years of experience but proved themselves to be worth something – the Storm Hawks. He wanted to go on The Condor more than anything else, be part of their rising legacy, Cyclonian or not.

Regrettably, not very many official squadrons made an appearance tonight. Only a handful of Sky Knights and their teams arrived in time for the ceremonies while the rest were held up by conflicting missions. Selecting new recruits was a ritual that could last for several months. The actual probation period was two weeks, starting from the moment a team member made a connection with a graduate. Most of the time the agreements worked out, but all former students dreaded the waiting time.

In the youth's cynical eyes, today's scheduled festivities was a marketplace where pilots chose potential successors; mechanics tested the cream of the crop by timing how fast they could take apart and repair one of the school's standard sky rides.

Opportunity came that evening when the common boy with the common name nudged him with an elbow between the ribs and relayed a message - someone out front was looking for him. Immediately he abandoned his conversation with a group of individuals who were both his companions and rivals in school; he ran a gloved hand through his black hair and grinned.

"So, this is it. The top student's the first one to get picked."

"Who says I'm going to get picked?"

The young woman with the pink hair tapped a finger against her lips and quirked a suggestive eyebrow. "We all bet twenty each you'd be the first one to go. I bet fifty you'd get picked on the first night."

"You placed a bet on me?" Many of his classmates chuckled at his mock surprise. The smarter ones merely acknowledged the top student knew about it the betting pool all along. The snot was always one for attention. The attitude came with the natural skill.

"Sure did. Fancy you'd steal all the Sky Knights, eh?"

The youth threw his head back and laughed. "No. I only steal the best ones."

He had pride. Like them, he was an Academy graduate - but in terms of academics, he topped most of them. Not all members studied at the main campus on Terra Atmosia either, both women on board finished their education someplace else. Despite his high recommendation and outstanding innate talent, he felt as if someone had thrown him back to his first days of school where everyone was a stranger and not all of them were friendly.

If the lack of smiles was meant to unnerve him it failed. Challenges like these only served to boost his confidence more; he'd prove he was worthy to join the ranks of the Storm Hawks. He knew it was a trial run, but he'd showcase his worth and make his Academy nickname stick somehow.

The two men walked along the dock, and as he followed the leader, Jay-Jay, he took his first good look at the airship that held the current Atmos speed record, The Condor. She was in good shape with very little damage and her exterior was painted with hues of natural brown. As expected, the crew were all older than him; the next in line just turned twenty. Their leader was the oldest, and although the kid was unable to correctly guess his age, his red hair and twinkling eyes made him appear younger than he looked.

His new home had a double-tiered configuration. The hangar bay was situated between the twin engines on the bottom floor. The upper deck consisted of the cockpit where the pilot was usually found, along with the crew's quarters towards the stern. They had a jogging track. The lower deck had the shower, kitchen and galley, and the engine room. Where did they train? In the hangar bay for hand-to-hand combat or in the sky with their sky rides.

She was a small ship compared to some of the larger cargo vessels he'd hitched rides on, but serviceable and according to her grinning pilot, extremely flexible. There were seven separate bunks and one of them was his. He was shown his room immediately and given directions towards the toilet. Afterward, Jay motioned to join him on the deck to meet the ship's carrier pilot.

Upon first glance, there was nothing immediately special about them. They were all humans, all looked relatively normal with their matching blue uniforms and squadron crests. He would learn to differentiate his new crew mates by their hair colour and voices - eventually their character. Everyone on board knew a little about everyone else's jobs, but each had his or her own specialty. Now, they were seven people on a single ship.

For some reason he couldn't quite explain, he became the subject focus for her. She was a few years older and he hated to be treated like a child, but the woman immediately took it upon herself to make his trial period a good one, two weeks which he hoped to gain their approval and write his name in the ship's logbook as a lasting member – in pen. He wondered how many times she had written down other potential candidates, probably formulated nicknames in her head as she penciled in their names and made sure the spelling was correct only to erase them afterward.

The first time he was shown the log book, he made a mental note to check up on it later. This was during his probation period and although he knew the squadron leader would ask him to stay, he wasn't so eager to become companions with the rest of the crew. It wasn't the right time - yet. Like any new place, some things need some getting used to.

And so the personalities began. And the boy commenced his analysis of the Storm Hawks crew.

He kept a book of his own, a clean journal given to him by his parents during the last summer he spent back in Cyclonia, but bound in treated leather so it was somewhat waterproof. That handy addition hadn't come with the family care package; it was something he had to trade and barter off one of his fellow students back at the Academy for. A small luxury. He knew it was an unusual request since most students asked for something more popular, such as trafficking crystals the instructors forbade them to use - eventually the pages of this unwritten book would be filled up and its purpose fulfilled, but it was his.

He could write whatever he wanted and nobody would censor him, not like the letters students sent home. He could insert photographs and clippings and every page inside that book would be a lifetime reminder of what the world was like through his eyes, not someone else's. The habit of writing came naturally, just like all his other talents, and by the time he was in his third month of Academy training, he had mastered it.

What was in that backpack of his when he arrived on The Condor? His journals. Small and compact and discrete, their handcrafted pages carried the secrets of every individual he met in school and in his travels. Appearance, history, occupation – and meaningless trivia. What he wasn't told forthright he gleaned from other people or by accidentally overhearing conversations in the locker room.

They were his thoughts on the world, his opinions of the known Atmos. And why not? Historians and professors did it all the time. Some of them became equally famous for their writings. So why would a young recruit like him with a different perspective not be entitled to the same privilege?

And he started with her, the first person on board to smile at him. His scribbling was basic at first, but as time stretched along and the months grew, the names of the Storm Hawks appeared in frequency alongside his.

The first night on the ship he flipped open to the first page of the stitched notebook, wrote down the date on the top left-hand corner followed by his initials.

Robin.

Her name was plain and honest and like the rest of her at first glance, so was she. Her best friend was an intimidating looking woman, tall with a constant look of cynicism on her face, as if she was ready to throw you against the wall and interrogate you until you peed yourself. Her name was Ibis. The ship's pilot was Pitta, a quiet androgynous guy he easily ignored. The resident doctor was Manakin, a stocky man with golden hair. The last person he met on the team he hardly remembered aside from the fact he had the most hilarious name he'd ever heard - Hihi.

Hihi. God, what were his parents thinking when they named their kid? And he thought the women's names were odd.

And of course there was the leader. The redhead. The optimist. The Blue Jay.

Time passed easily. He caught on well enough and learned secrets of human nature from watching his companions. Two weeks of hands-on practicum in the engine room and the cockpit. Smirking, he grabbed hold of the steering wheel and maneuvered the ship away from several storms as they passed over Terra Gale which earned him a jovial pat on the back. The kid had an undisclosed advantage over the other Academy graduates, his hitchhiking experience allowed him to study the interior of various ships. Once or twice in the past, he gained the trust of a small-time pirate who taught him to navigate. He knew the seedy routes like the back of his hand. Jay and the rest of the Storm Hawks could throw anything at him and within the first three attempts he understood the schematics and the routine.

He earned his nickname. (of course, it had always been his)

"Hey, you're a natural." The redheaded leader stated the obvious with a smile on his tanned face, and left him to do his work while he discussed the team's next mission with someone else.

Then the two weeks of probation passed and he wasn't sent away. The initiation itself was nothing special despite rumours the Doctor wanted to cover him in tar and blow chicken feathers all over his suit with a fan. As an alternative, they had a party on the main deck to celebrate the last true member of the Storm Hawks.

"True?"

"Yeah kid," the Doctor chided and helped himself to more pecan tarts, courtesy of Terra Mesa. The boy grimaced. He disliked references to his age and very few people were permitted to do that. Hopefully, they'd pick up the hint sooner rather than later. "It took our fearless leader several rounds to find people crazy enough to stick with him, being a Sky Knight these days don't exactly add up to a high paycheck."

At least that part was true. And yet, they presented him with his own sky ride to keep.

Missions were fun and he wished they allowed him to tag along more frequently. Suited up in an official uniform and presented with his own sky ride, he broke his vehicle in half when a Sky Pirate came at him from the side and slashed his engine in two. It was an embarrassing defeat for a first-timer in battle and humiliating for someone who was supposed to be the top student at the Academy. He expected the vermin to come at them with some unorthodox fighting techniques, but theory had its loopholes when applied to reality.

As he was falling backwards and just about to deploy his parachute, Robin grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him up so he could sit behind her. This was also the first time he saw her without a friendly smile on her features. She was gritting her teeth and the muscles in her cheeks were taut.

"First time? You could've kept watch on your sides."

"I didn't expect it." Licking his cracked lips, he considered repaying the favour. "Thanks for saving me."

Her shoulders rose up and down, and he knew she was chuckling. Somehow, it made him feel inadequate. "Hey, no problem."

Two months passed. Since that incident, he made an oath to never get caught off-guard again, and he kept to his word. When he wasn't at the cockpit, he was in the hangar bay training with someone, most likely Ibis. And when they weren't on missions and had some extra gas to spare, Jay took him out and tested his skills on their sky rides.

The leader of the Storm Hawks had skill, the black-haired youth admitted; the man could stand on his ride ready for battle and nudge the controls with barely a toe. His balance was impeccable and his sword – damn, that double-bladed sword, sang through the air and sliced metal like butter.

"Where'd you get a thing like that?" he inquired as they parked their vehicles in the hangar. The Sky Knight opened his locker and threw him a towel to wipe off the sweat from his brow.

"Trade secret."

"Who forged it for you? Most weapons don't use the double-blade -- it makes the sword too heavy for most people."

"Guess I'm not 'most people'." He opened the door and walked into the galley where he saluted Hihi and Robin who were in the middle of a game of poker. The stakes? Various chores on The Condor. The redhead stood behind her, took a look at her cards before stroking his chin and whispered into her ear.

"Get your own goddamn game, Jay." The other man stated monotonously.

"Lighten up. I'm just giving her a few pointers." He took two of her cards and placed it face down on the table, squeezed her shoulder and took a step to the side. He waited.

"No flirting on board, Captain." The man warned automatically although they knew it held no serious threat. This seemed to be standard procedure. Ace watched the exchange like a fly on the wall until the woman caught his attention, glanced out of the corner of her eyes, and winked at him.

"The captain can do whatever he wants because he's the captain." Jay replied. After several minutes of casual observation, Robin won the hand. The leader of the Storm Hawks didn't try to conceal his joy. Apparently, her opponent was equally pleased.

"The captain has just secured this poor man's bet."

The man's eyes widened as the youth's red eyes looked on in amusement. Clearly there was chemistry here, and he had only begun to submerge into each layer of history. On his first day of recruitment, he had to sit down in his bunk and read the entire Sky Knight manual. According to the guidelines, in-house romances were discouraged to prevent potential bitterness amongst those who should act as a family. On the other hand, they were only guidelines and many, if not all squadrons, dropped the rule.

One of the first things he learned on board was to never fully listen to the Sky Council. They were a bunch of old senile fools with good intentions, but at times, out of touch with the reality of the world. They didn't fly like the rest of them. They gave that up a long time ago.

The new boy never did get the official word on what the bet consisted of, although the graduate had a guess as to what it consisted of. For some reason, Jay was stuck with garbage duty for the rest of the week.

And suddenly, the Condor felt like home.