What Lies In A Name

"So... Quickshot?"   Lieutenant Commander Evren "Quickshot" Bayrak's groans were more than drowned out by the whoops and laughs let out by the 6 other pilots in the cramped wardroom. The source of the question, the young and now red-flushed face of Ensign Ahmad Zakir, Air Technical Officer, seemed to almost crawl back in fear before Evren reached out to hold him. Their own ATO, Lieuntenant Avery "Dovey" Piers, kicked off the proceedings.   "Ha! Well, you see, kid, the Commander here's got quite the story there! It all started one bright, sunny day, back in---"   "You shut your air hole, Dovey. I seem to recall you having quite the story yourself, I have enough pictures of butchered birds to prove it!"   Evren's quick snap back sparked a frenzied shouting match, as the young Ensign recalled that discretion was the better part of valour, and ducked his head til it died down. Still, before the aviators around him could settle down in peace, he'd already heard the faint snippets of at least 1 minor flying accident, references to a modern musical group called, and multiple people's mothers and lineages.   Finally, once the voices settled down, Evren spoke.   "Well, sorry 'bout that little display there, I'd say I've had less hectic combat exercises, and certainly a smaller desire to get a kill!"   They ended off with a smirk, to the sound of some quieter laughs and a punch to the shoulder. They continued.   "So, you want to hear about the legend of the great Quickshot?"   "Well, uhh, yes, boss, if that's, well, alright?"   The assembled aviators sat back in their chairs, yet could barely conceal the sheer enerfy bubbling underneath them, seen in the shifty, sly looks they shot each other.   "Well, it is quite a story...   Evren's voice voice grew solemn.   "And one I think our most dear white Dovey could tell better than I ever could, since he's clearly dying to let it out!"   Jerking forward in his seat, Piers almost jumped to his feet, a smile cutting his sharp face in two.   "Oh, my most Commander, it is an honour!"   He turned to the young Ensign, who almost shrank back yet again.   "Well, kid, the secret behind 'the Quickshot'... is that they weren't!"   "Oi, ya bastard!"   It took another few seconds for the laughter to die down.   "Calm down boss, I'm telling a story here! Anyways, the story itself dates back to the days of our misspent youth, when yours truly was knee high to an Admiral of the Fleet, playing practice over terrestrial air instead of our watery, righteous abode! Then, even our most mighty and magnificent Commander, by boss throughout time, was but a lowly trainee pilot picking up the trade. And, making, or cutting, their way through air acad', a rather strange pattern emerged."   And now it was Pier's turn to have his voice grow quiet and solemn, his eyes shifting around like a magician with a spectacle to show.   "As you know, few events are as noted in an aviators education quite as much as the air joust! Mock missions, real aircraft, bloody hell if the thought of the things doesn't take me back to the good old days! The Commander, however, appeared to have a little bit of an issue. You see, they'd dodge and they'd weave better than the best of 'em, and good luck for an umpire trying to mark down their score, but when it came to the final moment, when the trigger was to be pulled, the weapon let loose...   someone else would get the final glory. Too slow, Quickshot, too slow, and after the sixth kill stolen, why, the name just came up, and the rest, well..."   Pier's attempt to sound solemn and saddened with his final flourish were frustrated by the bark of laughter that immediately followed his conclusion. Evren, after poking their subordinate in the ribs, spoke up.   "Well, kiddo, I don't suppose my air of mysterious charm is still sticking around me, after that little tale."   "Oh, well, I mean... well, it just seems like bad luck, really, and hardly too terrible, I guess, since you did make it to flight leader!"   Zakir paused, and then he grew a small smirk of his own, though with noticeably less practice than his peers.   "Still, I guess I was expecting something more... shocking? Gruesome, maybe, involving... 'butchered birds' of some kind?"   Cue another round of jokes and jibes, though Piers' own voice was curiously absent from the proceedings, with Evren's making up for it.   "Oh, really? Well, I'll spare you the spiel. Dovey here was on a nice, peaceful, routine flight on a clear blue day, when he drove his plane into a flock of migratory birds, some breed of pigeon I here is technically endangered, thereby crippling the species, pissing of every environmentalist on the continent, causing the single largest bird-strike incident in the of history military aviation, and condemning himself to making annual payments to the Royal Ornithological Society of Albion for the rest of his accursed life, or until he puts down his wings, which is the same thing really."   The cackling that ensued and was joined by all bar one only grew when said one jumped into the fray for his honour and pride.   "Oh, for goodness' sakes, boss, if you would seek to condemn my callsign, do me the kindness of dressing my reputation among the amateur aviators before the funeral! I say, Commander, how foul! What of my dashing white plumage, putting the feathers of fowl to shame! And I was hardly at fault, I had an instructor and a wingman with me, and they utterly failed to provide warning either!"   "Yes, but you see, Dovey, they didn't do a goddamn corkscrew while surrounded by a flock of flying hazards!"   It's likely the verbal joust could have continued on for perpetuity, had the brave Ensign not interjected with a foolish, dangerous remark.   "Well, that's quite a legend too! I just hope I get a nice, "fun", nickname without any of that drama.   The looks each of the 7 pilots gave him would've put a shark to shame. Evren bared their teeth first.   "Well, kiddo, I can assure you, to the best of my abilities, that you won't be..."