Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

"Again!"

A second off his best time! No way could Derek stop now.

"Hey champ, why don't we break for today?" His tech's voice squawked from above. "You know Phee came all the way down from Level 8 looking for you? She still got those swerves..."

"Phee ain't my concern. Neither is L8. We rain fire, not rose pedals. Get my sim reset!" Derek said, launching himself from the cockpit onto the concrete floor.

He'd soothe Sam's feelings later with a warm beer, but the mission came first. The charred pits of Earth demanded nothing less.

Leaving behind the creaky machinery, he ended up in vending. A ghost stared back in the smudged glass, the worst part of himself thankfully faded into shadow

"Look who the C.A.T. coughed up."

Derek turned to find Phee leaning against the door, middle finger tapping her brown dimple.

Despite himself, Derek smiled, mock saluting before they embraced.

"Looking good, D."

"I call your bluff."

She shook her head. "Maybe you'll feel prettier up there in Peacekeeping. We could use another good eye."

Derek looked down on her. His good nostril flared.

"And leave War Machines? Nah, gotta be ready for the next chumps from space."

"It's been two years."

"No calendars down here. You remember. But it was nice seeing you anyway, Phee."

She lightly gripped his arm. "Chirps did a number on you. On your face. Yeah, I remember. We've all had to deal with wounds since the war. Time to let your scabs heal."

He jerked away from her gravity.

"Bye, Phee."

Back in the cockpit, his body felt heavy. The air hard.

"Get out of my way!" he yelled, chasing the faint outline in front of him, his best run from years back. Before the scars. When he felt whole.