Call Sign: King
Note: hey😀 so here's part 1 of Call Sign: King, i know this was supposed to be posted like a month and a half ago buuuttt here it is now. i've been off and on tumblr a lot because i've been so busy with college stuff (imdrowning) and work, but i did start part 2 so that should be up at some point. Summary: Instead of going into the army and going to Germany when he was drafted, Elvis decides to enlist in the Navy and take his chances as a Naval Aviator. As he goes into training, he shows extreme talent within his class which results in him getting sent onto a carrier ship where he meets his new RIO, Pete Mitchell, call sign “Maverick”. After a rough start together and an especially scary start in the air together, Elvis and Pete learn to work together and become the best in their class, leading them to Top Gun. Word Count: 4828
“Fuck..,” Elvis mumbled under his breath as the Colonel read off his draft papers. He couldn’t believe what was happening. All he ever wanted to do was sing and have fun, how did he go from that young boy in Tupelo to this famous rebel rock n’ roller who now is getting shipped off to the military?
“No, there’s no way my baby is being shipped off to the military for two years!” Gladys cried. She was in total shock at what she had just heard the Colonel say. She was wide eyed with worry as she thought of all the danger her son could get caught in the middle of while away from her. She just wanted to protect him and if he was in the military she wouldn’t be capable at all of keeping him safe. “There has to be something else.”
“It is either this or jail,” the Colonel said somberly with a shake of his head. He sat down and looked at the Presley family, fear and sadness written across their faces. He didn’t know what it felt like to have a loved one shipped off somewhere but it felt good to know that the family was relying on him to bring them comfort during this time.
“The military is willing to let you choose which branch you’d like to go into, however, Elvis. You’re being given a lot of options here.” Elvis looked up from his guitar as he heard that. He thought for a moment, biting his lip gently. He thought back to his childhood and wanting to fly to the Rock of Eternity as if he were Captain Marvel Jr. He smiled lightly to himself as he finally settled on his choice of branch.
“The Navy,” he says softly. He hears his mother gasp and he looks over to her. “I want to be a Naval Aviator…and fly to the Rock of Eternity…” He grins and gives a small chuckle. He puts his guitar down and walks over to Gladys.
“Mama, it’ll be alright. We can look at this like a new start, maybe people will see I’m not such a bad guy after this,” Elvis whispers to her as he hugs his mother. Gladys grips on to him tightly and sniffles as she feels tears begin to stream down her cheeks.
“That’s right, we’ll let them cut your hair and prove to the world that you’re a clean cut, All-American boy.” The Colonel chimes in as he walks over to Elvis with his draft papers. “Just sign the papers and soon you’ll be flying those fighter planes before you can say ‘trouble’.” He places the papers on the dining room table with a pen.
Elvis bites his lip as he picks the pen up and shakily signs his name on to his draft papers, accepting an inevitable fate. He sighs to himself as he stares at the typed papers, hoping he made the right choice with the branch he picked.
Two days later, Elvis Presley found himself in a barbers chair with press surrounding him as he got his hair buzzed off. There were so many thoughts going through his mind. He couldn’t focus at all. He caught a piece of his hair in his hand and stared at it mindlessly. He was completely zoned out, not hearing any questions that any of the reporters may have been asking him. The only thing he could think of was having some kind of freedom while in the military and especially the freedom he could have in the air. He was ready for the challenges that were coming his way. He looked up and gave a strained smile to the press as they kept snapping pictures of him in the barbers chair.
↞↞↞↞↞↞↠↠↠↠↠↠
Just as the Colonel had said, Elvis found himself in training to be a Naval Aviator in no time. The training was hard and exhausting but the rock ‘n roller could only focus on the outcome that would soon happen. He worked his ass off in training and all his classmates and instructors could see his hard work. Eventually he was tasked with more complicated challenges, such as whether or not he should try to get control of his aircraft or eject if he were to be in a tailspin free fall. With every challenge Elvis succeeded and much to his classmates dismay he was named the best in their training class only four weeks into the thirteen week training course.
Regardless of all the comments he received about being a famous musician who pissed off the right people to get drafted, Elvis didn’t let any of them get under his skin. At least he didn’t after the third week of training when he found himself performing scut for the higher ups that were training him. Not even two hours into his first day of training, Elvis had gotten into a fist fight that turned bloody real quick. There wasn’t a scratch on him, but the other guy had to be rushed to the infirmary for a broken nose and black eye. He had overheard a comment from his classmate, Randal, that because he was famous he would most definitely be given special treatment and given all the better jobs to do while they trained. Obviously that didn’t sit right with Elvis and the two of them got into it. He didn’t appreciate any comments about how he could potentially be given better jobs than his peers simply because of his social status. He worked hard in class because he knew he had something to prove to everyone around him. He had something to prove to himself. He didn’t want to be some doll while he was in the military.
Nonetheless, he did prove himself. He got out of the scut jobs and back into the good graces of his instructors. He enjoyed the hardwork and soon enough, Elvis began to make friends as well. The discipline he got while doing scut helped him learn quickly that running his mouth and throwing around his fists wouldn’t help him make friends that easily.
“Damn, this is like a dream come true,” he said softly to his bunkmate as the two of them got ready for bed. The next day the whole class was going to finally get assigned an aircraft and learn how to really fly. Elvis couldn’t help but grin from the excitement that boiled inside him. This was what he really wanted to do, to accomplish in his life.
“You’re telling me, E.P,” Jack, his bunkmate, replied as he climbed into the top bunk. He looked down at the ravennette and smiled. “No offense or anything, but I really didn’t expect a famous guy like you would choose the Navy out of every other branch.”
Elvis just smiled up at him and sat down on his bed. “Well, I always wanted to fly. This gave me the chance.” He shrugged and laid down. ‘I’ll fly to the rock of eternity.’ He thought to himself. “Goodnight Jack, I’ll see you in the morning.” He said softly and rolled over to fall asleep, just barely hearing Jack reply with another ‘good night’.
The next day went just as quickly as it came. Elvis was still high off adrenaline as he made his way into the locker room to take his flight suit off and shower. Besides being able to fly planes all day, the class also finalized their call signs as well. Randal was ‘Rudolph’ because of how red his nose got after being decked by Elvis, Jack was ‘Agony’ due to his last name being Payne, there were some funny ones like ‘Banana’, ‘Bambi,’ and so on. When it came to Elvis’s callsign being assigned, he hoped he would get something cool and badass, like ‘Foxtrot’ or something. He actually almost laughed when he heard his call sign because of how cliche it was but he accepted it nonetheless. He was proud of it.
From now on he would be referred to as Elvis “King” Presley. In a way the name was badass too, if only he hadn’t been called The King of Rock n’ Roll previously. When he closed his locker, he saw that his call sign had been spray painted on to it now. He smiled as he walked away. He could finally tell that this was real now and not just a dream. He was on his way to becoming a pilot.
Soon enough, the thirteen weeks of training were over and Elvis and his fellow classmates were graduating from their training. It was now that they would announce who was top of their class at the graduation. Everyone was sitting in their seats, nervous as could be. They all worked their hardest throughout the past thirteen weeks and whoever was chosen as the best in the class would be given the option of staying mainland or being deployed to a carrier ship, everyone wanted that option. However, not everyone wanted to be deployed because then that means they have to actually fight in the air, and, despite all their training, most of them didn’t have the nerve for that yet.
“And the top of the class is,” Admiral Kincaide announces loudly as he holds up a plaque for the top graduate. “Elvis ‘King’ Presley!” Everyone started cheering and clapping loudly. Elvis smiled widely as he got up from his seat and proudly accepted the plaque. The past thirteen weeks were grueling but the amount of hard work he put into his training finally paid off. He was officially the best in his class. Now he has to pick if he wants to be deployed or not.
“Well first of all, I wanna say thank you to all my instructors and classmates for pushing me to do my best during our time together. Even if most of that time I spent it doing some real crappy jobs,” Elvis began to say. He bit his lip gently as he settled on his decision. “I’ve decided that I’d like to be deployed to a carrier ship and continue to use the training that I’ve received in order to help people.” Everyone began to cheer for him again, hollering loudly at his brave decision. Elvis couldn’t help being more than proud as he shook the admiral's hand. This is what he worked for and it was finally happening. As he spoke with the admirals that were at the graduation, he learned which ship he would be sent to and who would be his new RIO on the ship as well.
That same night, Elvis began to pack up what few belongings he had so that he would be ready for transport to the ship he would be serving on. Elvis could hardly sleep that night because of how excited he was. Slowly but surely, the sun began to rise and Elvis shot up out of bed, almost hitting his head on the bed above him. Quickly, he got dressed in his khakis and headed out to the entrance of the Naval base he was staying at. A car pulled up and soon enough Elvis found himself getting a tour of the ship he would be staying on for the next two years.
As he settled into the tiny room he was given, Elvis heard a knock on the door. He turned and saw a higher up officer standing in the doorway. He immediately saluted and stood straight up. “Sir,” he said softly. The officer in front of him saluted back and Elvis stood normally again.
“My name is Cougar, I’m gonna take you up to meet your new WSO,” he said and smiled at Elvis. He could tell how nervous the ravenette was. Elvis nods and smiles back. “Alright, lead the way then.”
“Just be warned, he’s a bit of a hothead.” Cougar chuckles and motions for Elvis to follow him.
A simple warning like that was not enough for what Elvis was about to experience, and hothead had to be an understatement for the man he was going to meet.
Pete “Maverick” Mitchell was a bit more than just a hothead, he was dangerous sometimes. Even as just a weapons system officer who sat in the backseat, he could be scary in the air. Not to mention he wasn’t exactly keen on being assigned a new pilot who just graduated from flight training. He also didn’t want any pilot who wasn’t his late best friend, Goose, but Pete knew that wasn’t in the cards for him. He had to accept whoever he was assigned, even if he didn’t want to.
Elvis saw a man who stood at the end of the bow of the ship, looking out at the sea with a somber look on his face. As Cougar led him closer, Elvis could have sworn he saw Pete’s mouth moving, as if he were talking to himself, but he brushed it off as his imagination when the man turned around to look at him. Somewhere between Elvis thinking to himself and Pete turning around, Cougar had left the two men alone to become acquainted on their own. Elvis was taken aback slightly as he noticed the pointed glare Pete gave him, as if he were the very last person he wanted to see.
Elvis cleared his throat softly and stuck his hand out in greeting. “Hi, uh, my names–”
“I know your name.” Pete cut him off, he frowned at the younger man in front of him. Really? Out of all the seasoned pilots on the ship with him, this is who he gets assigned? The fucking King of Rock n’ Roll. Elvis Presley.
“My name's Pete Mitchell, call sign Maverick,” Elvis pulls his hand back, honestly he wasn’t used to people who didn’t want to get to know him.
“Nice to meet you, my call sign is King..,” he said softly and looked down. He twiddled with his fingers shyly, not really enjoying the tension that somehow got created between him and Pete. He actually felt kind of foolish with his call sign now, it felt like he was showing off already.
“Look, King,” Pete said in an annoyed tone, putting an emphasis of mockery into how he said Elvis’s call sign. “I don’t know why you got assigned as my new pilot as a new graduate from flight training, but I want you to know I’m not gonna take any shit from you. You may be the pilot, but you won’t last a second in the air without me. I’m good at what I do, top of my class in the academy actually, so I don’t want any slacking from you.” He gets closer to Elvis as he talks, poking his finger into his chest.
“Hey man, I don’t know what I did to you, cause I just got here, but I don’t appreciate your attitude,” Elvis counters as his eyes narrow. It was his first time meeting his back seater and already he didn’t like him. He wasn’t one who takes shit from other people either, in fact he was ready to deck Maverick. “I was top of my class too, so I think I have a pretty good idea of what I’m doing while I’m in the air too, Maverick.” He added a pointed glare at the somewhat shorter man and enunciated his call sign just as Pete did to his.
Pete scoffs and turns his head to look away from Elvis. “I’m sure,” he says sarcastically and plasters an annoyed smile on his face. Elvis furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side as he looked at Pete.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Elvis was getting royally pissed off now. He didn’t go through thirteen weeks of training just to be mocked by some guy who didn’t even fly the actual plane. All he did was communicate with their radar and navigation, he didn’t even fire any guns. Elvis was not about to let this guy push him around.
“I mean, why the hell did I get stuck with the rookie fresh out of training. For Christ’s sake, we could be up in the air and you could freeze up and kill us!” Pete was beginning to yell now, his face getting red with anger. “There are dozens of seasoned pilots on this ship who could use a RIO so I don’t understand why we got paired together.”
Just as Elvis was going to say something else, an alarm aboard the ship began to blare loudly. Maverick looked up and cursed under his breath.
“That's the alarm for an air raid, enemy MIGs in the sky,” he glared back at Elvis. “I swear to God if you get me killed.” He motioned for Elvis to follow him as he ran to the locker rooms where they stored their flight gear. The two of them rushed to get into their gear before running out to the air strip to get into their fighter jet. Elvis couldn’t help but whistle lowly to himself as he saw the F-18 awaiting him.
Suddenly he got nervous and gulped slowly. This was what he had trained for over the past three months, but he never thought he’d have to fly against an enemy aircraft so soon after graduating. He quickly inspected his plane before climbing into the pilot seat. Maverick was already in the backseat as Elvis started to power up the jet. His hands were shaking nervously and he was starting to wonder if this was the right decision to have made. What if he did screw up and kill both him and Maverick?
He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Maverick yelling at him to pull the plane forward onto the air strip so they could take off. Elvis secured his helmet and oxygen mask before slowly easing the control stick forward to bring the plane to its assigned place on the air strip. He gave a thumbs up and salute to the Air Marshall as the crew member gave him the OK to take flight into the air.
Elvis gave a shaky breath as he pushed the throttle as far forward as it would go, speeding the aircraft up until finally he and Maverick were in the air. He recalled his training and followed the other jets in the air, going out to survey the air for the enemy MIGs. He silently hoped that it was just a false alarm and this was some kind of drill for his first day on the ship. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case as three unknown aircrafts were spotted on the radar.
“Shit!” Elvis yelled as one of the enemy planes started to fly straight for them. He veered off to the left, steering the plane smoothly and just barely missing a missile that was shot at him. His eyes went wide as he realized what just happened and took a moment to be proud to have let his training take over. His little moment of victory was quickly cut short as the same plane that shot the missile at him came back for another try. He heard Maverick yelling something at him but couldn’t make it out as he did his best to steer his plane out of the line of the missile.
“Goddammit, he’s got missile lock on us!” Maverick yelled as he turned back and forth trying to see where the MIG was. “Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!” He quickly hit a button to send out flares, hoping that they would provide as the target for the missiles instead of the plane he was in.
“King, you gotta fire back!” He yelled at Elvis. He really wasn’t in the mood to die at the moment. “Shit, shit, shit.” Elvis mumbled under his breath as he tried to outfly the other jet chasing him. He looked around and saw the other planes from his squadron engage in dogfighting, he was the only jet who hadn’t fired a single missile. Somehow at this moment, he couldn’t remember any of the training he went through.
As Elvis looked down at the controls in the cockpit, he couldn’t remember what anything was. He began to panic and panic badly. The only thing he knew how to do was try to fly out of the range of their guns.
“King, they’re right on us!” Maverick yelled again, panic beginning to lace his voice. “You have to fire back, King!” He could tell his pilot was panicking which made him panic.
“They’ve got missile lock on us! Pull up, pull up!” He yelled. Elvis listened and pulled up hard on the controls. He tried to remember his training but in the moment he couldn’t. ‘Goddammit.’ He thought to himself. As he tried to outfly the advancing MIG he finally remembered a trick one of his instructors had taught him early on in training.
“I’m pulling the brakes! He’ll fly right by us!” He yelled back to Maverick, who could only give a confused look even though Elvis couldn’t see it.
Elvis pulled the throttle backwards as hard as he could, slowing the aircraft significantly. As his plane slowed down it also shot up which caused the MIG to fly right past and underneath him.
“It worked!” Elvis cheered. He regained some of his confidence and grinned to himself. “Alright, let’s show this dickhead who’s boss.” He says into his com as he speeds up his jet, flying straight for the other aircraft. He turned on his missile lock as he neared the MIG. Soon enough it locked on to the plane.
“Gotcha,” he mumbles and clicks the release button, successfully hitting and blowing up the enemy airplane that had almost sent him into a crisis for the past twenty minutes. He cheered into his com and noticed all the other planes in his squadron had also succeeded in their dogfights as well. He steered his plane back to the carrier ship after hearing navigation order all of them to return. As he screeched back on to the landing strip of the carrier ship, Elvis could feel himself relax knowing he was finally out of harm's way.
After switching off his jet and climbing out of the cockpit, he was met with an angry Maverick once again.
“What the hell was that?” Maverick yelled in Elvis’s face once they were both safely on the ground. “You nearly got us killed!” He was in complete shock about what had just happened.
“Goddammit King, you’re so lucky you pulled up when you did or else we would both be dead! What the fuck was going on?” Maverick was genuinely concerned about the pilot, but also about himself. He did not need a pilot who was cocky on the ground but a total pussy while in the air to be assigned to him.
“I-I don’t know what happened!” Elvis shouted back. He was so stressed out from the whole situation that he couldn’t really think about what had happened. He usually succeeded in those types of situations during training. He couldn’t understand why he froze in the air like that. “I’m sorry, Maverick..I don’t know what happened..” He muttered, mostly to himself. He really was lucky to have listened to Maverick when he did. He didn’t want to think about what happened if he didn’t.
Elvis couldn’t understand why he froze like that while in the air. He rushed back to the locker room and quickly pulled his flight suit off, getting into the shower to clear his thoughts and clean off. He leaned against the tile wall as the water poured over his body. He tried to go over what happened during the MIG attack but already he couldn’t remember. He guessed because of how fast it went, the fight wasn’t even a full thirty minutes.
After getting out of the shower and getting redressed into his khakis, he was called into the commanding officer's office to talk about his first real dogfight that day. He was also called in to sort out what had happened since everyone could see how he stuttered in the sky.
“Sir,” Elvis saluted the commander as he walked into the office. The commander stood and saluted back, allowing Elvis to stand in a more relaxed position with his hands behind his back. He watched as his CO sat back down and leaned back in his seat, swallowing nervously. He knew what he was called into the office for and he did not want to talk about the flying incident.
“King,” Commander Stinger started, folding his hands in front of him as he looked at the young man. “You got sent to this fleet because you were top of your class in flight school. The recommendation letters I got about you from admirals and civilian instructors were incredible. They all said the same thing practically, that you were a smart pilot and never let anything scare you while in the air. In fact, they said that you excelled in high stake situations where it was a dogfight between you and an enemy jet. So it makes me wonder, what happened today while you were up there? I expected you to have finished that MIG off easily and go help the rest of your squadron.”
Elvis pulled his lip between his teeth, something he did while he was thinking. “Well sir, I’m not entirely sure. I know that usually dogfighting is what I’m good at, it’s what my instructors always complimented me on,” he said softly, looking down at his shoes for a minute. “But today..it was different. It was real, there were actual people trying to shoot me down and kill me. It wasn’t just a simulation or a drill I did with my classmates, it was real this time and I think that’s what caused me to freeze up like I did.” He had no idea if Stinger was going to accept his answer, he hoped he did because that was the truth. This time it was a real life situation, an actual life or death situation.
“Well, King, I hope today is the only day you freeze up because as of right now you and Maverick are our number two guys,” Stinger said and leaned forward on his desk. “That means the two of you will be paired with Cougar and Merlin on any missions we send you on. You’re also our go to guys if for some reason they can’t fly.” He stands up and although he’s shorter by a number of inches compared to Elvis, he still gives off an intimidating aura. “So get your act together and if you freeze like that again, I’ll make sure the only thing you do for the next two years is fly dog food out from Hong Kong. Dismissed.” Stinger sat back down his desk chair as he watched Elvis quickly leave the small office.
As Elvis was beginning to leave, he turned and saw Maverick standing against the wall, an amused grin on his face. Elvis narrowed his eyes at the man and turned to face him fully.
“What’s the smirk for, huh?” He demanded. He was in no mood whatsoever to deal with Maverick and his bullshit. He still couldn’t believe that it was his first day on the ship and he and Maverick already had it out for each other.
“I’m just glad Stinger gave you the scolding you deserve. I would have given it to you, but he beat me to it,” Maverick chuckled and stood to his full height, which really didn’t give him much more ground on Elvis. Elvis almost laughed, in fact, when he noticed Maverick was trying to intimidate him, he caught himself though, not wanting to wage another argument directly after this one. “Although, I wouldn’t have been so nice about where I would put you if you froze up again. And I certainly wouldn’t have been so formal about the way I spoke either.”
“But if you ever freeze like that again while I’m in the cockpit with you, you won’t have to worry about the enemy killing you.” Pete threatened as he stepped towards Elvis again, getting into his face as much as possible. “See you tomorrow for surveying, King.” He spit out Elvis’s callsign like it was venom, mocking him directly.
Elvis glared back and turned to watch the ignorant copilot saunter his way back to his bunk. He cursed under his breath and stormed back to where he would be staying. The entire way back, Elvis just mumbled out insults and curses about Pete. He was not looking forward to the next day. He got settled and went to bed angry, still muttering out strings of curses about his backseater. Maybe being a Naval Aviator wasn’t all he thought it cracked up to be.
****************
tags: @callsignangel
