#PSC graduation

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PPSC Senior Assistant Recruitment 2022

Punjab Public Service Commission (PPSC) has released a latest Notification for the post of Senior Assistants (Group B) in the Various Department under the Government of Punjab. Those Candidates who are interested and eligible for the PPSC Senior Assistant Recruitment 2022 can apply online from the official website www.ppsc.gov.in.

[saltsicklover]

Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 2 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 1 HERE, and my Master List HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt, from the lovely @inkandarsenic

Romantic Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Platonic Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Fem!Reader

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 14k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, minor character deaths, labor, loss of a child in utero, abandonment, drinking, talks of God and destiny, swearing, general military talk and lingo, descriptions of food and eating, coughing fits, talks of violence, actual violence, blood, vomit and throwing up, mention of near death experiences. ANGST

---

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. The weekend before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A cellphone is tucked between Monsoon's cheek and shoulder, the line trilling. She carries her duffle bags and kit, feeling like a battering ram as she makes her way through the crowd of people. The airport is packed and she can feel just how humid it is form how sticky she feels.

The hallways of the airport wind as she follows the crowd out of the baggage claim. The people around her move just a bit too slowly as they wheel their bags behind them, just begging for someone to trip over them if they dare pass. If there is one thing Monsoon did not miss about being at Top Gun, it's the trip in.

Fuck flying coach.

Fuck PSC Season and all of the families taking all the seats on the military flights.

Fuck the crying lady sitting next to her, who wouldn't stop sobbing at the shitty romcom she was watching, and fuck when she decided to start it over, just to watch it all over again.

But the best thing about coming back has to be seeing her surrogate father, Beau Simpson. Their relationship has only grown stronger since that night at the bar. They have spent countless meals together, drinking at bars when they are in the same place and always sending 'check in' emails. Phone calls have always been a bit dodgy between time zones and deployments.

Neither one knew exactly what they were getting into when the bond between them grew, neither really sure exactly what a parent/child relationship looks like, especially when the child is really an unrelated adult. But as the days went on, and the email chain got longer and longer, things seemed to just make sense.

The pair talked about everything, from work to dating, friendships and recipes. Cyclone opened up about June and their baby, sharing his favorite stories of their marriage. From how they started dating, to the day that June passed, Monsoon heard it all. 

Calla lilies were June's favorite, the only flowers that Beau believes should ever be given to a woman, and Monsoon smiles at the memory of her graduation from Top Gun, and the way Cyclone smiled at her with the bouquet of lilies in his lap.

When Monsoon found herself in Vermont she carved out time to visit June and Baby Boy Simpson at the cemetery. She showed up with two bouquets of calla lilies and a speech to give them. Monsoon cleaned their headstones and laid the flowers delicately across their plots, speaking to them the whole time about herself, and Cyclone, and the world they live in.

Cyclone's phone buzzed in his pocket while in a meeting. When he snuck a peak, he was met with a photo of Monsoon, a light smile adorning her face as she sits just in front of the burial plots. The message read "With Mama June and Bubba, thinking of you, Pops". Cyclone had to excuse himself from the table with tears in his eyes.

As the years went on, the surfaces in Cyclone's office slowly began to fill with more photos of the two of them. The collection of frames started out sophisticated, it really did, but as time went on, the frames became more eclectic, more fun. 

It's juxtaposes the rest of Cyclones office in a way that is almost comical. As he is shouting at someone for their latest fuck up, there are shelves full of silly frames just a few feet away. Cyclone's favorite just so happens to read "Clown College Class President" while Monsoon's favorite is one of those irregular shaped ones, with an oval opening for the photograph.

There is a photo of the two of them tucked in the cockpit of Monsoon's jet. It catches the mechanics off guard every time, but no one dare says a word about it- mostly out of fear that word would get back to Admiral. The photo depicts the two of them at one of those giant truck stops, posing with the large dinosaur sitting out front. She is sat atop of it, like a cowboy, with Cyclone leaning up against it, his shoulder near her thigh. They both wear larger than life smiles as the sun beats down on them. It was a silly thing, really. Both stuck in at little forgotten Air Base in middle America for a flight test, but the pair managed to make the best of it, remembering to take photographs as they went.

There is a postcard folded up in Cyclone's wallet. Once upon a time, it read the catchy saying "Why Not Minot?" printed across the front of it, with a cute little photo of a town square, a little forgotten town in North Dakota. It's one of those bases that people dread being stationed at, that much has always been true, but the little photo on the front of the post card sold a different tale. It wasn't the cutesy saying or the photo that made him keep it, the edges now worn and fibrous. On the back, written in neat blue ink, underneath a little blurb about how there is absolutely nothing to do in North Dakota, the sentence "I love you, Pops" sits next to a scribbly little heart.

The staticky, tolling, phoneline picks up after a few rings as Monsoon pushes around a family with one too many screaming toddlers. They have on those little backpack leashes and Monsoon almost gets close lined as a little dark haired child bursts in front of her without warning. She dodged, but she catches one of those damn rolling bags with her toe. Monsoon barely notices the glare the lady sent her way, but the lack luster wrath of a stranger isn't going to stop her.

"Hey, Kid," Cyclone greets over the line, the smile on his face evident through the sound of his voice. There is no need for an official "hello" to begin the conversation, both knowing full well that Cyclone had been watching the flight itinerary like a hawk to make sure Monsoon wasn't going to be delayed. The call upon landing is just expected at this point, though neither of them have mastered the cool,casual, its good to see you.

"I just landed," A woman walks right into one of the duffle bags hanging off of Monsoon's shoulders, throwing her completely off balance. She hikes the bag higher up on her shoulder, trying to rebalance the hefty weight she is carrying. Monsoon sways like she is at sea, attempting to get her balance back. There is something so familiar about the way she sways a bit, just like the jet carriers do as the waves bash against the metal of the hull.

"Fuck" she curses under her breath, steadying herself once again. For a Seaman, one might think Monsoon would have better balance. Cyclone rolls his eyes on the other side of the phone. "I'll be over for dinner tonight, if that's still the plan,"

"Sure is, I'm making your favorite,"

"Steak and potatoes are your favorite," Monsoon corrects.

"You can correct me without the side of guilt, you know," Cyclone is chuckling through the phone, earning him a roll of the eyes.

"I only meant to tease," There is a nonchalance to her voice, though she is the furthest thing from cool. Cyclone isn't either. His kid is coming home and they get to sit down for a meal for the first time in months and he is beyond excited.

"I'm going to drop my stuff off at my rental, then I'll be headed your way, you better be ready for me to eat enough for a small village," Monsoon heads right for the exit, ready to look for a taxi. "And Pops, maybe think about adding a-" The word "vegetable" fails to make it's way out of her mouth as Monsoon looks up as the double doors in front of her slide open. Cyclone is standing on the other side, a large sign reading "WELCOME HOME KIDDO" sits loosely in his hand, the other holds his phone up to his ear.

It's like one of those cheesy scenes from a movie, both wearing matching grins and laughing. Cyclone knew the whole thing would be a surprise; he took a leave day to make sure he would bet there to pick her up.

"Pops!" The name still makes Cyclone's heart swell, even if he had been responding to that very name for the past few years. It's funny, really, how easy it was for the pair to adjust to the name, though Monsoon waited for him to acknowledge it first before she actually said it.

The acknowledgement came from a recorded phone message, shortly after her first move after her Top Gun Graduation. Cyclone got stuck in on the highway with a dead car and no cellphone. The call came in from a payphone, an unknown number. Cyclone left a message, "Hey, kid, it's Pops, my car died and I am stranded. I could use an assist. Do you know anyone in Missouri?". That message is still saved on Monsoon's phone to this day.

"Hey, Kiddo!" And then Monsoon is stumbling closer, her bags swinging her center of gravity all over the place. He reaches a hand out to take one, ready to throw it over his shoulder, but instead, each one hits the pavement with a hard thud. Monsoon is quickly wrapping her arms around his body, one over his shoulder, one under his arm, meeting around his back and squeezing him hard.

The hug is returned in kind, both damn near trying to squeeze each other to death. It's playful, as they share "good to see you's" and "I've missed you's" .

"I hope you don't mind, Kid, but I invited another one of the recruits to dinner tonight," He speaks the words into her hair. Monsoon pulls back to look up at her Pops with furrowed brows. She doesn't have to say a thing, he already knows exactly what is going through her mind.

"I know it's unorthodox, but, Kazansky said it might be a good idea, and when the good Admiral says something like that, you set another place at the table,"

"Yeah, unorthodox is definitely a word for it," Monsoon is pulling out of Cyclone's embrace, dipping to grab her discarded bags from the pavement. Cyclone grabs one before she can, which earns him a roll of her eyes.

"Be nice, would you?"

"To you or the mystery guest?" Her words are dripping with sarcasm.

"Preferably both," Cyclone chides, poking her in the side with the welcome home sign. She swats it away with a quick hand, both laughing.

"I'll see what I can do,"

---

The sun is setting over the horizon, painting the sky orange with wisps of pink the lower it sinks behind the curve of the Earth. Monsoon is spread out on one of the lawn chairs, relaxing, well, more like waiting out her Pops' little outburst. She had opened the grill to check on the steak, making sure the edges wouldn't be too crispy, and Cyclone all but snapped the lid shut in the middle of her investigation. He banished her to the other side of the patio to wait for the food to finish cooking. Then, and only then, would she be allowed to touch the grill again.

If there is one thing to be true, Cyclone has a method when it comes to grilling. Monsoon had it all explained to her the first time he grilled for the pair of them. He has it down to a science, all from the temperature and the kind of charcoal to use, to the length of marinating time and spices to make even the worst cut of meat from the Commissary the most perfect dinner.

And Monsoon couldn't exactly tell him he was wrong. After all, every single thing Beau had ever placed in front of her tasted delicious, delectable even. Not only that, but Monsoon really couldn't have done it better if she tried. Her Pops wouldn't let her try, either, but that is beside the point.

Soon, everything is pulled off the grill and the pair are inside, Monsoon tasked with setting the table. All of the windows are open, the evening breeze cooling the inside of the house. As she places another fork down, Monsoon takes in the way the breeze dances across her skin. Goosebumps threaten to crest over her exposed arms at the chill the air carries. In that moment, she is thankful for the California air, the smell of the freshly made sides sitting in the center of the table, and the fact that she is setting the table in her Pops' house.

It has been too long since the pair got to sit together and share a meal. Cups of coffee over video chat were no where near as nice and Monsoon couldn't lie, she missed Cyclone's cooking. As she sets down the last knife, Cyclone is bounding down the stairs. His causal jeans and t-shirt have been replaced by a nice pair of brown slacks and a cream polo shirt, tucked in with a belt. He's even sporting loafers.

"Hey Pops, there is something I want to talk to you about tonight," Monsoon shouts down the hall. She tries to shake the bit of nerves rumbling through her chest like a handful of loan bees.

"Okay, kiddo," Cyclone calls back as he is rounding the corner into the kitchen, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, promise,"

"Okay," It's a simple response as he walks further into the kitchen. He pats her on the shoulder as he passes, a loving gesture.

"Got a hot date?" Monsoon chides as she looks him up and down. She sets the bundle of flatware down on the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No," Cyclone is shaking his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her words. "We are having company tonight, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, but I didn't think some random Lieutenant, that is only coming over because the good Admiral all but ordered him to, was someone worth dressing up for."

There is a shrug of her shoulders as her head sways down nonchalantly. Cyclone crosses his arms, mirroring his kid, with a stern look on his face. It's a look that Monsoon isn't used to seeing out of uniform. Maybe it should worry her, but the vein that would usually protrude from his forehead is nowhere to be seen.

"Remember, kid, you too are just 'some random Lieutenant'" Those words stir a bit of anger within Monsoon, but it dissipates as fast as it came.

"Well then, Admiral Simpson, sir," Monsoon stands up a bit straighter, dropping her hands to her sides, "Let me find something more presentable to wear for the strange man who's crashing out family dinner," She grimaces a bit, but they both laugh. Beau is just laughing, in that way that make's his whole body shake, his eyes scrunched closed while whole hearted giggles escape his lips.

"Go on, kid," He waves in the general direction of the hallway, towards the front of the house where she dropped her bags by the front door.

The zipper of her duffle bag slide open easily, the separation of the teeth vibrating her fingertips. Monsoon fishes out a sun dress and a cropped sweater, something to keep her warmer as the sun sets below the horizon. It's a nice enough combination, something that will surly look like she gives a fuck about her appearance without looking like she planned too much. Monsoon changes out of her sweat shorts and t-shirt in the half bath, emerging looking like a brand new woman, though the feeling  of the plane still lingers on her skin.

Just as she is stuffing her travel clothing back into her bag, the doorbell sounds throughout the house, the bells tolling just a bit too loud.

"Jeez, Pops, could that doorbell be any louder?" Monsoon is yelling just as she reaches for the door. She pulls it open with a swift movement, a smile on her face. Then it falls as soon as she sees who is standing on the other side of the threshold.

Clad in a button down shirt, one with a pattern that would rival any rodeo clown, with one too many buttons undone stands Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw; a man she hasn't seen since a deployment five years ago, about six months after she graduated from Top Gun.

There is a gold chain hanging around his neck. It's just long enough to graze over the tops of his collar bones. His shirt is untucked, the bottom a bit wrinkly, like he has tucked and untucked it a couple of times trying to decide which looked better. He made the wrong choice, by Monsoon's calculation, the patterned shirt covering the top of his dark khakis. He looks a bit silly, really, from the chain down to his boat shoes. The thing that catches her the most off guard though, is the fucking mustache he has decorating, no, vandalizing his upper lip.

Her own mouth hangs open just a bit, her hand tightening it's grip on the door handle. Bradley shoots her that mega wat smile, that million dollar, dentist office poster smile- the one that made her swoon all those years ago. But now, now it makes her fucking angry. Or maybe it's resentment that she feels boiling up inside of her, steaming her insides with a sort of sick feeling that she hasn't felt in years.

The last time this strange, queasy feeling flowed through her she was wrapped up in the white sheets of her mattress on an aircraft carrier, somewhere out in the pacific. Her naked body feeding off of the warmth of spot that Rooster once occupied. When she awoke, there was a feeling of contentment that spread over her skin, until she reached over to find the spot next to her cold.

Their deployment relationship ended with a fucking post it note, "Duty Calls" is all it read, scribbled down in a mess of black ink, the pen itself skipping. Hell, the pen couldn't even bother to work long enough to get a complete message through- their relationship simmered down to nothing more than steamy nights together in a twin size bunk while the ocean waves rocked against the carrier.

The contentment drained from Monsoon faster than than the anger could take over, and for a moment there was nothingness in the spaces between her ribs.

And now, Bradley fucking Bradshaw is standing on her Pops' front porch, smiling at her like nothing has ever happened between them, holding a bottle of wine, and somehow she is just supposed to let him in!

"Hello," He scratches at the back of his neck, his brows pinched together just the slightest bit. "Is this Admiral Simpson's house?"

Words are caught in the back of Monsoon's throat, each individual letter sticking her in the esophagus. Monsoon stands there looking at Bradley, each growing a bit more uncomfortable as the seconds go by. But, she is on the inside of the doorjamb, she has the upper hand. Just as she goes to slam the door in his fucking ugly mustache, Cyclone catches the door.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Beau booms, his tone friendly as he sends Monsoon a what the fuck look. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, though it does nothing to relieve the rapidly growing headache that's taking over her skull.

"Come in, come in!" Cyclone practically ushers Bradley into the house. "This is my daughter, Y/N Mitchell, she is in the new Top Gun class as well!"

Beau is doing his best to defuse the tension in the room, between Monsoon's anger, and Bradley's overall discomfort from being in an Admiral's house, the vibes are askew. Bradley crinkles his brows at the information and Beau quickly jumps in with a chuckle, "No relation, but I claim her anyway. Introduce yourself, Son,"

"Brad-"

"We already know each other,"

The pair speak at the same time. Monsoon's tone is full of distain, like the words taste bitter and unforgiving on her tongue. She pushes past Bradley's outstretched hand and past Cyclone. Bradley can't help the fact that his face twists up in confusion as he wracks his brain trying to figure out where exactly he knew her. 

The woman's definitely too upset to be a recent fling- hell, Bradley hasn't even managed to bring a girl back to his place in such a long time. Deployment really limited his prospects and she sure wasn't on the mission he just finished. 

"Please, this way," Cyclone guides Bradley back to the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine from the younger man. They follow the path Monsoon took, down the hall and back to the large kitchen. She is standing at the sink, her hands braced on the counter top.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Bradshaw. If you'll excuse me, I have to speak with my daughter for a second." Cyclone is moving before Bradley can acknowledge him. So, Bradley pretends to be very interested in the view just outside the kitchen window.

"What the hell, kid?" Cyclone carefully grabs Monsoon's elbow, leaning in just a little bit closer to fake some sort of privacy. He sets the bottle of wine on the counter. With all the tension blooming in the air around them, Cyclone decides alcohol is the last thing they need. 

"It's complicated, Pops, just leave it be, okay?" Monsoon is running a hand through her hair, a shallow attempt to ground herself. "I can play nice for one dinner,"

"What the hell happened between you two? And it's not just one dinner, it's the next few weeks."

That fact is met with a grumble from Monsoon. It took her only a few seconds to convince herself that she would be able to make it though a dinner, but the idea of having to see Bradley fucking Bradshaw every day for the foreseeable future had a mixture of nausea and frustration swirling through her. 

"Pops, trust me, this really isn't something you are going to want to hear about, nor do I feel like discussing it in your kitchen, at a whisper, while the man who doesn't even seem to fucking remember me is only a few feet away! No thank you," Monsoon pushes past Cyclone once more, picking up the bowl of salad from the kitchen island and bringing it over to the table. Cyclone is hot on her tail, speaking lowly after her.

"Y/N" That gets her to stop, Beau never uses her first name, "We are not finished discussing this,"

"After supper then," The words leave her tongue sharp, but they are met with a nod of approval. Then Cyclone is moving, ready for the night to move on as planned. 

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Cyclone is turning his attention back to their guest, a makeshift smile plastered to his face, "Please, take a seat, I am just going to grab the food off the grill,"

And then Cyclone is disappearing out the back door, leaving Monsoon and Rooster alone, the room already threatening to burst from the rapidly accumulating tension. Monsoon chances a look at Bradley as she finished setting out the flatware that had been left abandoned earlier, suddenly a little bit glad that her Pops hinted at her to change clothes. She looks good, that much she knows, if only it mattered at this point.

Maybe, if it mattered, Bradley would look at her and realize just how much he walked out on. Maybe he would see the way Cyclone cares for her, and their little family that they've created and know that he threw away his chance to be apart of it. If only he could see just how happy she is now- yet he doesn't even fucking recognize her, and that makes her heart burn like cheap kerosene. It's like gulping down saltwater, the feeling of being forgotten, drowning right out in the open for everyone to see.

As Monsoon is drowning in thoughts of Bradley, he is just trying to remember her.

Bradley takes in the slope of her nose and the freckles that are smattered across her legs. His eyes wander over the frizzy bits of her hair, down the line of her shoulder and ending at the tips of her fingers. The way that she glances at him, her face still turned down as she adjusts the table settings, strikes him as familiar- but in a far off sense of the word. Familiar in the way his own face is reminiscent of his father's. 

His father, Goose, and Maverick... Pete Mitchell... Mitchell!

"Mitchell?" Bradley breaks the silence, his gaze  a bit wider, still locked on her downturned face. Monsoon's eyes shoot up at the name, locking with his dark brown eyes. They bore into her the same way they always had and a part of her aches. 

"Are you-" The breath he sucks into his lungs burns a bit with hazy memory, "Are you Pete Michell's kid?"

An audible, pained groan leaves Monsoon's throat at the question. 

"Not anymore," Are the only words she can manage, the flames of anger licking at her legs.

"But you were, once?" There is almost a ribbon of hope laces somewhere in his tone, but Monsoon pays it no mind. She walks away from the table, keeping her back to Bradley as she attempts to calm the heat of rage that's licking at her legs. 

Why couldn't Bradley just ask her about normal things? Why aren't they talking about work, their partners, their friends. Hell, he could hit on her at this point and it would go over better. 

If he wanted to talk about Maverick- Pete Michell, there were countless times when they were tangled up together in blankets, in the dark save for the crack of light breaking into the room from under the doorway.

He could have asked as they scurried up the stairs of the carrier, their gear smacking against their chests as they ran. Bradley could have asked then, as they bounded out into the early morning, salt soaked air.

Hell, Bradley could have asked over coms, high in the air as the wind whistled past their wings. They were just test flights after all, no enemy to contend with. He could have asked her then.

But he didn't.

"That was a very long time ago," She's turning to the fridge, pulling a pitcher of lemonade out. The sigh that leaves her lips is nothing but tension attempting to escape from the confines of her chest. It doesn't work, and Bradley doesn't catch the hint to just shut the fuck up and leave it be.

"We knew each other, right? When we were kids?" The question catches Monsoon off guard, almost as much as his initial presence did. She wants to laugh, really she does, at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

He didn't remember that fact when they met on the carrier five years ago, and Monsoon tried not to let that bother her, especially when he was buried inside of her, moaning filthy things into her ear. But now? Now he remembers. But somewhere, the memory of their torrid love affair escapes the great mind of Bradley Bradshaw.

"Oh, for fucks sake,"

Though the whole thing is laughable; Bradley isn't laughing. He's holding his breath, too caught up in the scene in front of him, in the soreness of his chest and the way his heart thrums against the backside of his ribcage. 

Fuck how his chest aches. 

There is this part of his past, this piece that he once knew like the back of his hand, that's just in reach now- again, and Monsoon is laughing at him. The memory of her was erased with the sounding of artillery, the three volley's fired into the air. And now, he craves this memory like he craves the memory of his father, the pieces of his innocence having crumbling into his hands like ash.

It still stains his hands that sickly blackish gray, gritty against his skin, though he is the only one that can see it.

The sliding door opens once more and Cyclone is slipping though, holding a large platter of steak in his hand, the meat is grilled to perfection and he looks proud. Bradley looks at Monsoon with furrowed brows, questioning the words that she let slip past her lips. Cyclone steps between them, setting the plate of meat down on to the dinner table, more than enough food to go around.

"Please, Y/N, come and join us," Cyclone is pulling out a seat right next to Bradley, offering it to her. Reluctantly, she pads over, taking a seat next to Bradley who can't seem to take his eyes off of her face. He runs his hands up and down his pant legs, more out of anxiety than anything else. Cyclone takes a seat across from the pair, a tight smile on his face. 

In any other world, it may look like a child introducing their significant other to their father, the way the tension hangs in the air between the trio. Cyclone awkwardly dishes himself servings of the food before passing it to Monsoon, who does the same before placing it down next to her, leaving Bradley to fend for himself. It's petty, that's true, but to Monsoon, it's a small act of defiance. A small fuck you for not remembering her, or the nights they spent together.

The Admiral knows something is going on right under his nose, just out of his understanding. He can see it in the way Monsoon shifts awkwardly in her seat while Bradley's gaze gets overly friendly with the plate in front of him. There's a question on the tip of his tongue, "kid, is Bradley your boyfriend?" but he knows better than to ask it. As he observes longer, he takes in the way his daughter tilts her shoulders just a little further away from Bradley, the arm closest to him resting elbow down on the table. The moment Cyclone notices the unpassed dishes sitting between the pair, he just knows. 

"So," Cyclone clears his throat, "Are you two excited to be back at Top Gun?"

It's a reasonable question, very middle of the road. Monsoon opens her mouth to answer, but Bradley beats her to it.

"Yes, sir. It's good to be back stateside. Hell, it's good to be back on solid ground. I've been stuck on a carrier for the past nine months and I was beginning to lose my mind!" He's chuckling now, and Beau joins in right along side him, the deep chuckles of the men filling the air. "But you know how it can get on the carriers. It's hard to pass the time, no going to the bar with friends, no dating,"

Then, Monsoon's fork hits her plate with a metallic clank against the glass. No dating, yeah, right. Out of all of the things Monsoon pegged Bradley to be, a liar was not one of them, but then again not much could surprise her after the way he left. 

"How about you, kid?"

"To be determined, Pops," The answer is genuine, spoken through grit teeth. 

Maybe she shouldn't be so upset with Bradley's lack of remembrance for her. After all, it's not always the wrong time with the right person. Or the wrong place. Sometimes it's wrong, maybe he just didn't like her that much- more a deployment fling to get him through the lonely nights than a future. 

"Well, I am excited you're back," Cyclone returns her direction, but Monsoon just shoves a fork full of salad into her mouth.

"Sir, can I ask what exactly they called us back for? And are there more of us?" Bradley asks between bites, his fork and knife busy against his plate.

"I am not obliged to share much, but I can tell you that fifteen of you have been called back, from varying Top Gun classes." The explanation leaves something to be desired, but both recruits are nodding on the other side of the table. Bradley eats another bite of steak, complimenting Cyclone on his grilling; Monsoon is just pushing the food around on her plate with the tines of her fork. It's easier than finding the appetite that was lost somewhere between the front door and the kitchen after Bradley's arrival.

"Are you teaching us this go around, Pops?" Monsoon's question is spoken quietly, in the middle of Bradley's sentence about his own grilling technique- there is no remorse for the interruption.

At her words, Cyclone visibly stiffens, his fork stilling on his plate. Then he's setting it down, eyes still locked with his plate. With a huff and a lick of his lips he looks across the table, met with two pairs of curious eyes. He knew this was going to be hard, but he didn't expect it to be quite like this. 

"No, I'm not teaching," Cyclone takes another breathe, unsure who to make eye contact with, knowing the words he's about to say are not going to be received well, by either one of them. "We- Top Gun has decided to bring in-"

The doorbell is ringing loudly through the house, startling Cyclone in his seat. It breaks though the tension like a fucking bullet, the whole thing blasting apart on impact. The trio trade glances that last milliseconds, like someone just knows whos going to be standing on the other side of that door.

"I'll get it, Pops," Monsoon is already pushing out of her seat, placing her napkin next to her plate. She is a bit too eager to get away from the tension surrounding that table, not only from her question but from the way Bradley is basically staring out of the corner of his eye. Though she can't exactly see it happening, she can feel it- the way his eyes are boring into the side of her head, almost burning. She will take anyone being on the other side of that door if it means she doesn't have to sit in Bradley's swimming gaze any longer. 

"No, you stay, I'll get it," Cyclone corrects, "You stay and chat,"

Then, Cyclone is pushing away from the table, heading right for the front door. He gives his daughter no time to protest. Cyclone leaves the slowly rebuilding tension behind him, and Monsoon is stuck having to sit back down, next to Bradley, left to simmer in it.

"We did know each other, right?" Bradley is quick to ask the moment Cyclone rounds the corner. It's a speed he's not used to- too used to sitting and waiting for the perfect timing that just doesn't come. But this isn't something he's willing to wait on, it's just something he has to know.

"Yes, Bradley, we knew each other. But that was a long time ago," Monsoon is shrugging, avoiding his eyes. The words should have hit him harder, from the way they all but flew from her lips, but the impact is almost gentle, like the comfort of them bore the brunt of it all.

"Do you remember my father?" The question is so innocent that it almost hurts; and Monsoon knows just how much throbbing pain there is inside Bradley. After one drunken night while on the carrier, he poured his heart out about his father, about how much he missed him and how he wished- hoped that Goose would have been proud of him. Monsoon sat and listened the to the whole thing, through the tears and drunken hiccups, reassuring Bradley that Goose would be proud of him.

After all, she knewhim, even if that was a million years ago- even if Bradley didn't know it.

She knows he would have been, because Goose was a good man.

A trait that seemed to have skipped over Bradley.

Good men remember their lovers. They remember their old friends. They remember the people who showed up to their mother's funeral- and have the decency to show up to their friends' mother's funeral.  

Good men don't leave women in the dead of night, a break up message scrawled on a sticky note. They don't leave their friends to grieve alone. They don't forget. 

"Yes, I remember him," Monsoon chances a glance at Bradley, unintentionally meeting his eyes. God, he's looking at her like she holds the fucking secrets to the universe and all she can feel is a sort of twisted up sickness, like her sternum is bound together with poisoned ropes. Bradley can see the stars that cling to her fingertips, the secrets to the cosmos, but can't seem to find the words to beg for their translation.

Cyclone is walking back into the room a second later, accompanied by another set of footsteps. Neither Monsoon nor Bradley look up when they walk in, both too busy staring at each other. Bradley looks curious, Monsoon looks hurt. 

She looks away first. 

A tall blond walks in behind Cyclone, his gaze focused on a set of files in his hand. He's reading over the top file carefully, running his free hand through his cropped hair. There is a toothpick in his mouth, resting between his teeth. Dressed in his tan uniform, his biceps are straining against the cuffs.

He's a Stetson model type, clean cut and masculine. The line of his jaw accentuated by the clean lines of his uniform. His jaw ticks with frustration as his brows furrow at the paperwork. There appears to be a word on the tip of his tongue by the way the toothpick bobs between his plump lips.

"Hey, guys, sorry for that, this is-" Cyclone swings his hand, introduction interrupted by twin gasps.

"Jake?!"

"Hangman?"

Hangman isn't sure who to look at first, but his eyes meet Bradley's form first, his eyebrows knitting together at the familiar face before shooting to his hairline when his eyes land on Monsoon sitting next to Bradley.

"Y/N, Doll! What are you doing here?"

Cyclone is whipping his head around in the way he might flip a jet. And Monsoon is pushing out of her chair again, ready to round the table and throw herself into the arms of the strong, blond man who just walked in, but her eyes meet the bewildered look on Cyclone's face, causing her to halt her movements. Hangman sets the paperwork down on the kitchen island, his eyes still locked on Monsoon, that damn smirk of his playing on his lips. Monsoon can tell he is holding himself back, fully aware of exactly who's house he is standing in, and the relationship between Monsoon and the Admiral.

It's been months since they've seen each other. Their goodbyes were said on the front porch of his little rental outside of Lake Hurst. Neither of them relished being in New Jersey, but they had each other and that's all that had mattered. They fostered a brand new relationship over a year, neither of them brave enough to label the nights spent together in that house. 

Then new orders came down the pipeline, on a TS Need-To-Know. The pair were being separated with the flick of a pen. So, they labelled their year long relationship through tears standing on his stoop, the night the orders came down the channel. 

They packed Jake's small house, and Monsoon's apartment, neither one knowing just what was to come. In the name of a temporary duty station, they got storage units next to each other, the closest thing to living together they'd be able to swing. 

That was six months ago. 

Monsoon did a little time in Pensacola while Jake got sent to Oak Harbor. Thousands of miles apart, their dates turned from late night dinners to quick conversations over the phone just to hear the other's voice. 

Neither of them expected their reunion to be here, in Admiral Simpson's kitchen, with Bradley Bradshaw and the Admiral watching the whole thing, confused expressions written into their features. 

"I got recalled to Top Gun!" Monsoon giggles a bit, her gaze still trapped with Hangman's.

"Me too!" The words leave Jake's lips and the pair are smiling. It's taking everything for them to hold themselves back from embracing each other, after months apart. Then, Cyclone is clearing his throat.

"Pops," Monsoon begins, clasping her hands in front of her, "God, this is weird. Remember earlier this evening when I said I wanted to talk to you about something?"

She had fully been intending on telling her Cyclone about her relationship with Hangman, in fact, she had been working up the courage for the past few weeks. But, Jake comes with a record, a reputation, and a respect problem, things Monsoon knows her Pops won't approve of. 

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" The words are leaving Cyclone's lips almost too quick, but Monsoon is quick to reassure him that it is.

"Well, this isn't exactly how I saw this going, but, Pops, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jake Seresin," Monsoon is gesturing to Jake now, a worried smile on her face. The pair know each other, of course they do. They had met the first time Hangman went through Top Gun. Cyclone was on instructor duty and Hangman didn't take overly well to being instructed; though he did finish top of his class. 

Monsoon bobs up and down on the balls of her feet, the nervous energy flowing through her body. If she could push all the energy out of her and into the floor she would. Her soles grounding the electric current flowing through her, unapologetic and lightning hot. Monsoon would stand there in front of the three men who have played such a large roll in her life, back straight and eyes forward like the Navy trained her to do, if only she could coral that fucking energy and send it straight through the floor.

Monsoon bounces instead.

If she had the time, she could have prevented the look that crosses Cyclone's face. That look of you're not good enough for my kid that is so evident on his features. She knows that Jake saw it, clear as day from the way he almost winces. Everyone in that room knows the reputation that Hangman wears like a neon sign. The "voted biggest player" social life with the stellar callsign, the pilot known for leaving his wingman hanging, acting alone- selfish.

So much for putting off telling Cyclone; so much for easing him into the news. 

Bradley is watching the whole exchange from his seat with his eyebrows raised, like a fucking soap opera but the whole spectacle's happening in real time. He lets his eyes shift from person to person, taking it all in. Monsoon looks hopeful, though she is waiting with baited breath for her Pops to blow a fucking gasket. Jake, on the other hand, looks absolutely cool. Though he is the reason for the interruption, and for the impromptu introduction, he is impossibly collected. Then, Bradley's eyes shift to Cyclone, who has backed up a few steps. He keeps looking between Monsoon and Hangman, like he is playing some sort of invisible game of connect the dots.

Hangman and his fucking reputation are courting his daughter, and Cyclone really isn't thrilled about the news. 

Though Bradley isn't exactly thrilled to see Hangman here either, he's taking the whole thing in stride, as opposed to Cyclone, but the younger man can't exactly blame him. If it were Bradley getting this major bomb dropped on him, he wouldn't be sitting pretty, either. Bradley is bringing his glass up to his lips, his eyes still flashing between the trio.

"Monsoon-" Cyclone starts, but the sound of coughing interrupts. Bradley is coughing, choking on his water. He attempts to wave a hand, letting everyone know he's okay, but in reality, he's far from it.

Monsoon. The woman he left asleep in her bunk five years ago stands next to him now, and not only that, they fucking grew up together, at least for a little while. And she remembers his Dad, and she's Maverick's kid. And fuck, she's dating Hangman!

Things are moving just a bit too fast, and Bradley can't quite catch his breath between coughing fits. 

The glass is quickly set back onto the kitchen table, but is sent over the edge as Bradley reaches for a napkin. The glass falls in faux slow motion, the liquid flowing from the cup as it hits the hardwood, shattering like a pinprick galaxy upon the floor. Bradley, still coughing, searches the new formation of cosmos on the floor for the answer to all the mixed up bullshit he has found himself in.

"Rooster?" Monsoon pats him harshly on the back, right between his shoulder blades. Then, she is rubbing his back, her hand full of warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin burns under her touch as he struggles to return his breathing to normal. There's still a knot in the back of his throat made of unsaid words and new revelations that he can't seem to swallow down. 

"Rooster, are you okay?"

Hangman and Cyclone are quick to circle around the table, Hangman taking a knee next to Monsoon, his hand quickly finding her lower back. Cyclone is on the other side of Bradley, the glass crunching under his expensive leather loafers. Bradley is red from all the coughing, but an embarrassed blush still floods his skin from all the attention.

"Mons?" The nickname comes out all scratchy as Rooster wipes a newly formed tears from his eyes. The concerned expression morphs to hold a bit of shock before settling on some sort of mix of frustration and downright sadness. Monsoon tries to school her expression but her eyes still swim with emotion as they are locked with Bradley's.

"Yeah, Roos," Monsoon shoots his nickname right back, a confirmation that all but shakes the world around Bradley. She brings a tender hand up to squeeze his shoulder before pulling back, subconsciously leaning closer to Hangman, into the warmth of his hand on her back. She finds safety in her boyfriend's touch, the warmth of his skin pooling against her through the fabric of her dress. 

The lack of contact makes Rooster feel cold, but the feeling is short lived as Cyclone is grasping at his other shoulder. A swivel of his head and Bradley is met with the furrowed brows of the Admiral.

"Are you okay, Mr. Bradshaw?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley responds, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "I'm so sorry about the glass, please, let me clean it up,"

As Rooster stands, he is pushed back down gently by Cyclone, his hand still on the younger man's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it, please," And so Bradley is sitting again, in the center of the standing trio, feeling completely out of place. "As for the two of you, take a seat, we have some things to discuss,"

The sound of chairs being pulled out against the hard wood floor is accompanied by the intense ringing of the doorbell once again. The group look from person to person, once again looking for any clue as to who could be at the front door this time. Cyclone is padding over to the door, the crunching of glass less evident the further away her gets.

Bradley attempts to clear the lump in his throat, now without the luxury of his glass of water. Monsoon takes her untouched glass and slides it closer to Bradley, a barely there smile on her face. Her expression holds more sympathy than anything. Bradley takes the glass with both hands, a little too careful as he brings it up to his lips. 

"Let me get you a plate, okay?" Monsoon speaks to Hangman, her smile clearly wider, brighter, more full of life when it's directed his way. "Pops will give me so much grief if he comes back and that spot isn't set,"

So, Monsoon excuses herself from the table, leaving the men sitting in apprehensive silence. 

With a strong tug from Cyclone, door swings open and there is no time for a 'hello' as the man on the other side is pushing in, a wild look in his eye, a vein on his forehead bulging with frustration.

"We need to talk Simpson," The tone holds misplaced authority. Beau runs cold at the sight of Pete "Maverick" fucking Michell standing in his entryway, looking pissed off enough to catch a charge.

"That's Admiral Simpson to you Captain," Cyclone's teeth are grit so hard they might crack under the pressure of his jaw. "You cannot be here right now,"

The raised hand does nothing to stop Maverick from pushing further into the house. There's a folder in his hand, wrinkling under the closing of his fist. Sweat clings to the Admiral's brow, a vision of the crown of thorns, droplets running down the side of his face. It might as well have been blood from the way his stomach twists as Maverick steps closer to him, pushing the paperwork, right against the center of his chest.

"Do you know who got recruited for this mission, huh?" The words are dripping with venom, "Do you realize who you've chosen for this fucking death wish of a goddamn mission?"

Captain Michell's tone is all accusatory and full fury. He's pushing into Cyclone's chest harder, his knuckles white under the pressure. Cyclone grabs at the older man's wrist, his own knuckles paling as he squeezes.

"Captain, I will not repeat myself, you cannot be here,"

"Who is it, Pops?" Monsoon is calling from around the corner, her voice full of curiosity. Cyclone isn't a praying man, especially after what happened with June and their sweet baby boy, but now Cyclone is praying to every god, every deity that crosses his mind, even those who's names he cannot recall, that his daughter will not walk around the corner to see Pete Mitchell standing in his entry way.

"Nobody, kid, I'll be there in just a moment," He calls before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. He tightens his grip on Pete's wrist before he's wrenching it away from his chest. He pushes it back into Pete's own chest, leaning in close, "My daughter is not to see you here, leave. Now."

One might think Maverick would get the hint, since he pulls his hand from Cyclones grip. But then, Maverick is throwing open the file, pointing at the first page's photo. There is so much frustration in the action, it bounces between the two men like they're sounding boards, building and building.

"See this? Jake "Hangman" Seresin? You really want to send somebody in the sky who has a pension for leaving their wingman? You want to send someone into the air with a guy like him when the mission is already guaranteeing a loss of life?" 

That catches the attention of the trio in the other room. All motion stills as they strain to hear more. 

Wide mouthed, pointed tongue, Maverick is yelling without a care in the world. It doesn't matter who hears as long as Cyclone is hearing it too.

"And how about this," The paper tears as Maverick turns the page, "Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. You know about his father. You damn well know about Goose and you want to send his son to an early grave too?"

Jaws tick, fists tighten. Cyclone breathes deeply, thinking- choosing his words carefully as the older man continues to scream. It's not beautiful or noble like books would describe. There is no gift from God, no blessing, no one anointed with the ability to see into the future, to see just how this is going to play out. Instead, it's just words exchanged between mortal men, both too damn stubborn to back down with knives to each other's throats.

"And check out these two," Maverick is laughing now, leaning in closer to Cyclone, his breathe reeking of whiskey. Cyclone can see the way Maverick's eyes are bloodshot and weepy as he pushes him back. Sweat coats his skin leaving him clammy to the touch. 

"Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Robert "Bob" Floyd," Another strangled laugh escapes Captain Mitchell, "You really think this scrawny kid and a woman are up to the task at hand? Really? I can think of at least five better pilots and Wizzos who are better qualified than these two. And look! She's the pilot! Hell, I don't even know how they made it through Top Gun the first time around! The fucking Navy is getting soft."

"It's time for you to go, Captain Mitchell. Sober up. We will discuss this on Monday," Cyclone puts a hand to the older man's shoulder, attempting to usher him out without too much force. Cyclone can't risk Maverick being in his house any longer. He has already been gone too long and his guests are likely getting curious. "Time to go, Pete,"

"But, Cyclone, you haven't even heard the best part," Maverick can barely get the words out through drunken laughter. He's turning the page with clumsy fingers, the paper tearing under his touch.

The trio, Rooster, Monsoon, and Hangman round the corner as Cyclone is attempting to usher Maverick out the front door. They watch as the Maverick stumbles out of Cyclone's grip and further into the house.

"Pops?" Monsoon speaks as the strange man hits the floor, laughing as he does. The file has fallen open, scattering pictures of the newest Top Gun brain child called The Dagger Squad. They sit scattered all over the entry way like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes go to the paper that falls near her feet. 

"Well if it isn't the prodigal child," Maverick speaks, pushing himself further off the floor. "How many strings did you have to pull to get your own daughter onto the squad? Are you trying to send this kid to an early grave like the last one?"

The three Daggers stand speechless. Monsoon is quickly folded under Hangman's arm, her face pressed into his chest. Rooster stands just off to the side of them, his eyes flashing to Monsoon. 

The arguing doesn't stop.

"Shut your mouth," Cyclone spits, "You don't know a goddamn thing,"

Maverick stumbles to his feet, standing up at straight as possible to get into Cyclone's face, just to taunt the younger man.

"See, Admiral, that's not true, now is it? You and I both know that she isn't actually yours and this would be an easy way to get rid of her, right? Send her back to-"

His words are met with a swift punch to the face, the cartilage of his nose crunching under Cyclone's knuckles. The punch feels good, like it had been coming for a long, long time. Like it had been building within Beau Simpson for years, every single time Maverick missed out on a celebration of the amazing life Monsoon is leading. For every birthday, every graduation, every reenlistment and promotion ceremony, Maverick missed it all, and the rage built inside Cyclone. Now, it finally came out, popped like a Champaign cork, blood instead of the fizzy alcohol dotting itself over Cyclone's entryway.

A warm hand slips into Monsoon's; Bradley stepped closer, clutching onto her. He recognized Pete Mitchell the moment he got a clear view, both his anger and anxiety flaring. Bradley squeezed her hand once, nice and strong, before dropping it once more, stepping in front of her and Hangman.

"Captain Mitchell," Bradley begins, his voice firm, full of hurt.

The words make Monsoon's head spin. She leans away from her boyfriend's chest to get a better look at the bloody faced man and it sends a chill down her spine. Her Dad who she hasn't seen in years is now standing in a room full of people who can't fucking stand his existence. It's a fucking miracle that all he has is a bloody nose.

"Bradley," Pete spits a little bit of blood as he speaks, looking up at the younger man. He reaches a hand out, but it's dodged. "It's good to see you, son,"

"I'm not your son. It's time for you to go," Bradley is ready to grab Pete Mitchell by the collar and haul him out of the house. He's ready to throw him onto the lawn and leave him there to spit blood and sober up enough until he can walk himself home. Bradley has his own selfish reasons, his own grudge against the Captain, and now would be as good a time as any to feed into that frustration that he's been stewing in for years.

"I'm calling Admiral Kazansky," Cyclone declares to the room, then he's spinning on his heel the moment Bradley takes a step closer, clearly putting himself between Maverick and Monsoon.

The Admiral is ordering Hangman to move, to take his daughter anywhere else so that she doesn't have to see any more of the disaster that the night has turned out to be. He doesn't want her to see him throw Maverick out- hell, he didn't want her to see him punch the older man, but there's no going back in time. 

As much as Cyclone wishes he could have protected her from this, he couldn't. One can't stop a speeding bullet, as they say, and the shot had already been fired the moment he pulled open the front door. And as much as he doesn't want to, Cyclone has to trust Hangman with his daughter, he just has to, now. 

So, Hangman is all but carrying Monsoon away as she fights to stay put. She misses the order from her Pops, her blood thrumming too loudly through her ears. Hangman takes her through the house, dodging the pile of glass still glittering on the hardwood in the kitchen, hauling her out the backdoor and right to his truck. Monsoon flights the whole time, though it's unclear as to her reason to want to say behind.

The pair are pulling away from the house as Bradley and Beau are hauling Maverick out to the front lawn, his nose still pouring blood.

Jake drives in the direction of his apartment, holding onto her hand the whole time. He squeezes it reassuringly though there isn't much he can assure her of at the moment. Neither of them know what's going to come of Maverick, or of Cyclone's heated action against him. They don't know if Bradley is going to get caught in the crossfire, or if they are going to get called into the MP's office sometime in the middle of the night.

There is no clear answer, so, Hangman squeezes her hand and drives.

And drives.

And drives.

As far away as he can get from that house, that situation, the feeling in his chest spurred on by the broken look in Monsoon's eyes.

He drives until the sun crests over the horizon. Pulling off onto the side of the highway, Hangman kills the headlights, the world around them just beginning to come to life. That's when the tears come, falling fast and hard from the pools of Monsoon's eyes. Hangman just holds her there, inside of the truck.

The world around them awakens as Monsoon's falls apart, crumbling like unquenched Earth between her fingers. Maybe that's what the whole situation is, after all, how many times have the great authors related relationships to gardens, to plants, to life. Without nurture, without care and tending, the soil dries out, the plants die. The whole garden becoming a wasteland for the decaying plant matter; the soil turning to clay as the days roll on.

But isn't decay an unescapable fact of life?

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Two weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Hangman had completely expected to pretend like the whole fight at the Admiral's house didn't happen when he met up with the other recruits at the bar, save for Monsoon. He took a little too much joy ordering drinks for the team on Maverick's tab- the older man not seeming to remember him from the incident, even after Hangman sent him a wink and a "thanks, Pops,".

When Bradley strutted in like the world was full of golden promise, Hangman took it upon himself to act like it was the first time they had seen each other in years. Bradshaw was quick to get the memo: last week didn't happen.

There's no surprise that Maverick got thrown out of the Hard Deck that night, either. Hangman sure as hell wasn't expecting to be the one to throw Maverick out of the bar, but that part gave him a sense of pride that he can't quite put words to.

The feeling bloomed in his chest as he watched Maverick hit the sand. A wide smile spread across his face as he yelled for him to "come back anytime," if that meant getting more free alcohol and the chance to throw him out again. Then, as Hangman closed the doors behind him while Rooster began one hell of a rendition of "Great Balls of Fire", everything felt like it was going to be okay.

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

Tensions are high now, Hangman and Rooster's rivalry is back and stronger than ever. They have been at each other's throats since that night at the Hard Deck, though the reason wasn't the mission or the usual dick measuring contest, even if the other recruits would say that it is.

They have been battling it out over a woman. Monsoon, specifically. The team doesn't know about her involvement with Hangman, and the pair try and keep it that way. So, she sits in the back of the classroom, right behind Yale and does her best to pay attention. The mission seems more impossible by the minute, the deadline has been moved up, and nobody has been successful.

Rooster and Maverick argue about the plane vs the pilot and how he had been the only one to make it to the target, though it was a minute late.

Then, Hangman opens his fucking mouth, living up to that reputation of his. "It's no time to be thinking about the past,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rooster's expression is unreadable, though his brows twitch.

"I can't be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man!" Hangman continues through Maverick's pleas, "Or that he was the one flying when-"

Rooster is out of his seat in a matter of seconds, launching himself at his fellow Lieutenant. Hangman took it too far this time. Rooster gets one good push in before the rest of the squad are separating the two hot headed men from each other, everyone yelling for the fighting to stop.

Everyone but Monsoon, who sits in the back staring at the fight in front of her and can't seem to make herself move.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, hey, I'm cool, I'm cool," Hangman reassures, pulling out of the arms of his teammates.

"He's not cut out for this mission, you know it... You know I'm right." He gets up into Bradley's face, a fucking smirk on his lips. The others are still holding Bradley back as he calms down, but it's that fucking smirk that spurs him on.

Bob's hands slip from Rooster's shoulders as he gets into Hangman's face. "You think you can talk shit about my family when it's your girl that's got the most fucked up situation of all," Bradley keeps his eyes trained on Hangman, but the blonde's eyes tick to the side, in the direction of Monsoon, who is still in her seat. It's Bob who notices the way Hangman's eyes shift, and he's the first person to look in Monsoon's direction. Then, Bob's nudging Phoenix. 

They watch as Monsoon tenses in her seat, her jaw ticking. Her hands grip the arms of her chair, knuckles white. Then, Bob and Phoenix turn their attention back to the men as the screaming match continues. 

"I'm not the one who broke up with her on a goddamn post-it note, Rooster," Hangman points out with a raise of his brows, that stupid little smirk still evident on his lips. Rooster is bringing his hands up to his temples, his expression scrunched.

"You son of a bitch," Rooster is cursing at him through grit teeth, his voice low.

The crowd of Aviators are still gathered around the two men watching them fight, Maverick's eyes flicking between them as words are exchanged. His mind flashes back to two weeks ago, when he broke down the Admiral's door and saw them standing there with Cyclone. He suddenly flashes his eyes back to Monsoon, only to be met with her piercing glare.

"What? Was taking her father for yourself not good enough for you? Did you have to break her heart too?" Hangman questions, watching as Bradley's face contorts, "You're just pissed because not only could you not keep your shit Rio of a father around, you couldn't keep the girl, either,"

"That's enough!" Monsoon shouts, her eyes finally leaving Maverick. The Daggers' eyes are locked on Monsoon at the back of the makeshift classroom, anger evident on her features. Then, with her hands firmly planted on the table in front of her, she is pushing up from her seat.

"Seresin," Monsoon begins, turning her eyes to him, "First, you will not speak about my uncle that way. Goose was a good man and a damn good Rio. Uncle Nicky would have moved the fucking Earth for Bradley, or for Maverick, or for me and my Mama, don't you dare think anything different."

Monsoon is moving closer to the group now, taking each step slowly, methodical as her words. There is a large, yellow envelope tucked under her arm as she approaches. She had been sitting with that envelope since their first class, no one having even the slightest idea what's tucked inside.

"Secondly, Rooster, my relationship with Jake is not your business, not now, not ever. What we had was over the moment you wrote that post-it and walked out the door. You didn't even remember the fact that we grew up together, for fucks sake. I get it, I was your little deployment fling, and that's all. Now, you get to live with the fact that's all I'll ever be. Hangman put you in your place, now say in it."

The crowd is too stunned to speak, but there is a rumble of laughter that escapes Maverick. He doesn't even try to hide it, thinking the tension in the air would be enough to cover it. But then, Monsoon is turning her pointed gaze to him.

"Finally, Captain Mitchell," There is a sick little smirk on her lips as she says his name, "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. After all, Bradley had to get his pension for forgetting women from somebody."

Monsoon is standing toe to toe with Maverick now, eyes locked in on his, "After all, I've been in this class for what, two weeks, and I know you have had the roster for longer than that, considering that little stunt you pulled at my Pop's house. You think it's funny to forget someone when your own flesh and blood is standing right in front of you?"

Maverick furrows his brow, head cocking to the side. Monsoon can practically see the gears turning in his head with the way his eyes move across her features. She breathes deeply a couple of times, letting his mind piece the puzzle together.

"I asked you a question, but go ahead, take your time," Monsoon leans in just a fraction further, "After all, I'm told I look more like my mother, anyway," Wide eyes from the man in front of her stir out a strangled giggle from her chest.

"Wha- bu-" Maverick flounders, his mouth opening and closing, no words forming on his lips.

"Hi, Dad," The name is said with so much venom as she pushes the envelope against his chest with enough force to make him stumble. Monsoon doesn't wait for him to recover before she is turning to walk down the aisle of the makeshift classroom, paying no attention to the stares, the eyes burning holes into the back of her head. Instead she focuses on the momentary feeling of lightness that washes over her as she leaves the hanger.

It isn't until Monsoon rounds the corner that the tears begin pricking at her eyes. She takes off running as soon as the first one hits her cheek, the only thing she can hear over the rushing of blood in her ears is the thunking of her heavy boots on the pavement.

The Daggers stand looking at Maverick. He's holding the envelope to his chest, unsure of the emotions wracking though his body. Then, with a quick hand, he's crudely tearing at the envelope. The contents pour out over the floor of the hanger, looking just like that night at Admiral Simpson's house. Maverick tries to push that thought from his mind as his eyes focus in on the papers covering the floor.

Birthday Cards. Children's birthday cards.

The same ones he wrote to her for her first ten birthdays. He can't even get himself to bend down to pick one up, his neck aching from the way he stares down at them. He notices the little circles of wrinkled paper from long dried tears and his heart fucking breaks. 

The image of Monsoon at four, at seven, that he can see clearly in his mind, but there's a gap missing. Still, Maverick imagines her sitting and rereading the cards at seventeen, at twenty-two, crying over them and the father she could barely remember. Tears prick at Mavericks eyes and he lets them, making no attempt to wipe them away. 

It doesn't take long for the Daggers to figure out that the pile of cards is noticeably small, no more than nine or ten cards on the ground, though no one is near brave enough to say anything.

Moments like this remind Maverick he's still just a mere man. No matter how many records he breaks, aircrafts he tests, or brushes with death he encounters, Maverick is nothing more than a man with a skill set. He has flaws. He makes mistakes. 

That fact is almost too much for him to take. 

The memory of Goose flashes through his mind, the moments leading up to the failed ejection birth the feeling of ocean water weighing down his flight suit, soaking into the padding of his helmet as the water washes over them. So much blood where there should be none. And then Maverick is thinking about cleaning the scraped knees of his daughter, the blood bubbling up through the road rash. The tears, then, were hers as she begged, "Daddy, not the ouch-y cleaner, I don't like it,". But Maverick cleaned her wounds with the alcohol anyway, only to end up holding her against his chest in the same way he would hold Goose in less than a year. 

Maverick's mind is a patchwork quilt of shit memories; stuck reliving them all, fragment by fragment. 

"Class dismissed," Maverick manages, his eyes still glued to the floor. The sounds of fourteen pairs of boots, first loud then quieter as they go, leave the hanger, leaving him standing there, looking at the past he threw away illustrated simply in faded and forgotten birthday cards.

The hands of the clock circle once before Maverick moves. He walks right over the pile, his boots leaving angry, dark tread marks across the colorful paper. He doesn't look back once, not at the pile of cards, not at the hanger, not at the base. 

He drives straight for the Hard Deck. It's the only thing he can think to do, and after all, maybe Penny has some sort of advice. She's the only person he actually knows with a kid- a daughter.

Maverick only makes it half way before he has to pull over. Quickly, he throws himself off his bike, his knees hitting the dirt as he empties the contents of his stomach. As a pilot, he should have a stronger stomach than this, but a choice he made almost eighteen years ago is coming back to haunt him. 

He can still see Monsoon's eyes in the forefront of his mind. They haven't changed a bit from when she was a kid, Maverick realizes, as he's sat back on his haunches trying not to puke again. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the feeling of his swirling stomach. 

Maybe he should have stuck around, or at least circled back when he wasn't on deployment. After all, Maria left messages on his machine for almost two years after he up and left. It started with her begging to call which slowly turned into begging him to at least send a fucking birthday card. So he did. 

Then, she stopped calling, and he stopped writing. Monsoon grew up. 

It would be so easy to blame Maria. When she stopped calling, he stopped remembering. Between deployments and missions, flight tests and ceremonies, Maverick could pretend that it all got lost in the shuffle. But then, he remembers Maria and the way she always seemed to flawlessly manage her Naval carrier with raising their daughter, how she could juggle it all without his help when he was deployed and it was all okay. At least that's what he told himself. 

So, he thought if she could do it alone already, no harm could come from putting in for extra duty. That turned into extra deployments, more time away from home. He knew it was all a lie, but he had to tell himself something to justify it. 

It did get easier after a while, as his daughter slowly slipped to the back of his mind. It wasn't until one day, six years after he left that the realization hit him. Maverick hadn't thought of his daughter in months. He should have felt more guilty; he drank himself sick at the thought.

Two years later Maverick didn't even realize he missed her eighteenth birthday. 

Or her twenty-first. 

Over the years he convinced himself he did the right thing. That part of his past became a distant memory that he told himself he didn't miss. Maverick would be lying to himself if he still believed that to be true in this moment, sat on the side of the road after having been faced with the consequences of his long forgotten actions. 

Maverick kept one constant reminder playing on repeat in his mind all those years, You can't be a bad father if you aren't there to be one at all. 

And for the first time since he walked out, Maverick thinks he may have been wrong. 

He sits on the side of the road until the sun sets, stewing in his misery. When he manages to pull himself back up onto his bike, he heads for home, knowing that if Penny knew the whole story he would be on the outs with her, too. And so, he drives slowly, back to an empty house, wishing for the first time in years that it wouldn't be empty when he got there. 

---

When Monsoon finally reached Cyclone's office, eight blocks from the hanger, she almost collapsed in the entryway of the building. But, she pushed through the crowd, ignoring the calls of his assistant who insisted that Cyclone could not be interrupted while he was in a meeting. Monsoon couldn't find it in herself to care. 

When she pushes the door to his office open, she is met with three pairs of eyes. Iceman, Warlock, and Cyclone's eyes meet her frame. She is breathing heavy from the mix of running and sobbing, though it's unclear as to which is causing the redness in her cheeks. 

"Excuse me, recruit, but you can't-" Warlock starts, closing the file sitting in his lap. There is an edge to his tone, not taking too kindly to being interrupted. 

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Cyclone is cutting off Warlock without a second thought. The moment he moves out from behind his desk, Monsoon is throwing herself into his arms, her barely contained tears now overflowing. Without a second thought, Cyclone is folding her into his arms, doing his best to hold her shaking form. 

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her," Cyclone's assistant huffs, running a hand through his hair. Cyclone waves the younger man off, the door closing behind him with a click. Then, Cyclone is wrapping his daughter tighter in his arms, one hand coming up to rub between her shoulders while the other is wrapped securely around her waist. 

"I'm sorry, gentleman, but the meeting will have to be continued another time," Cyclone speaks, his tone clear, unwavering. Warlock shakes his head but gets up to leave anyway. Iceman follows after him, nodding a sort of good luck to his fellow Admiral before closing the door behind him. 

"Tell me what's wrong, kid," Cyclone is pulling back, his hands squeezing at her shoulders. Monsoon is rubbing at her cheeks, smearing her tears over the expanse of her face. It's the same ugly cry she had when they first met, and the connection make's Cyclone's heart twist. 

"I-" She starts, sentence interrupted by a hiccupping gasp, "Everything is falling apart," 

Monsoon tries to wipe at her face again with her hands, but Cyclone plunges a hand into his pocket only to offer her a green pocket hanky a second later. She takes it with unsteady fingers, her heart still thrumming a mile a minute. 

"Hangman and Rooster got in a fight in class. Jake said a shitty thing about my uncle Nicky, Goose, you know?" 

"Bradley shoved Jake, which isn't exactly a surprise, but then he told everyone that my family situation is all kinds of fucked up, which it is, but it's nobody else's business. God, Pops, I know now that I made a mistake when I started seeing Rooster while we were on deployment together, but God, that was five years ago! It's in the past!"

Cyclone nods at her, listening intently while trying to keep calm. So much new information is being thrown at him with each sentence that leaves her lips and it makes him angry. 

"Worst of all, though," Monsoon wipes at her nose with the hanky, "Maverick knows,"

"He knows?" 

"I told him," She confirms with a whimper and a nod, not daring to meet Cyclone's eyes. If she managed to meet them, she would have been met with nothing but rage boiling behind his irises, red hot flames behind the dark brown of his eyes. 

"I had to, everything was already coming out anyway," She laments. 

"What did he have to say for himself?" The question is asked through grit teeth as he pulls her body tighter against his, a move meant to feel protective but does nothing to quell the flames burning Cyclone from the inside out. All Monsoon can do is shake her head "no" as she sobs against the denseness of his chest. 

"I'm gonna kill him" is all Cyclone can think as he rests his chin against her hair. His jaw ticks as the flaming feeling overtakes his body. If he could, he would strip Maverick of every single one of his achievements, his medals, his rank. He would cut the older man down so far that he was nothing more than a civilian with a dishonorable discharge. 

But he can't.

So instead, he holds his daughter as she cries. He lets her tears soak the tan fabric of his uniform top, the buttons scraping against her skin. He rubs her back and whispers into her hair, promises that everything will be okay. 

---

Somewhere in the Pacific. The Uranium Mission. Three weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad. 

Moments after the Uranium mission is completed, the team piled on the aircraft carrier, all grateful to be alive. Monsoon and Hangman got sent up to shoot down the enemy aircraft, saving Maverick and Rooster. The whole thing left nothing but swirls of confusion and gratitude in Monsoon's heart. 

On one hand, she is so thankful that everyone made it back home. There will be no funerals, no folded flags and no Taps to be played. Instead there will be celebrations, beer and cheering and one too many speeches for a job well done. The whole thing should be liberating as their impending doom has been starved off for the time being, however there is still a feeling of anxiety sitting heaving in her chest.  

Now, Monsoon is stuck watching the pair climb out of the museum piece that they managed to land on the carrier. The wind is whipping past them as she watches the team embrace the two men. Her strangled feelings clog her chest as she makes her way into the fray, first approaching Bradley. 

"Glad to have you back on the ground," Monsoon shouts over the crowd.

"It's good to be back, even if it's not quite the ground," Bradley attempts to joke, "But seriously, we owe everything to you and Hangman," 

"Nobody left behind," Monsoon holds her hand out to Bradley, a gesture of good will. 

"Nobody left behind," Rooster echoes, taking her hand in his own. 

As they shake hands, a sort of understanding forms between them. They share a look, one that reads no hard feelings and Bradley almost tears up. Then, they are pulling back from each other, sharing one last smile. 

Monsoon watches Bradley disappear into the crowd, his tall frame quickly swallowed up by the sea of uniforms. She catches him shake hands with Hangman a moment later, the scene bringing a small smile to her lips. 

Then, Maverick catches her eye, standing a few yards away. There are tears shining in his eyes, but he makes no effort to move forward. They share eye contact for a moment as people move between them. Monsoon offers him a half smile, her brows lifted just slightly. Before Maverick can return it, she nods at him. He nods back, then it's his turn to watch her disappear into the crowd.

It's not quite an understanding, but maybe it's a truce.

At the risk of breaking her own heart, Monsoon chances a look over her shoulder. She watches as Maverick pulls Bradley into a hug, or maybe it's the other way around, it's hard to tell with the swarming of bodies. Either way, the pair wear bright smiles as they embrace and Monsoon doesn't even try to fight off the tears that make their way to her eyes. They aren't tears of anger, no, they are tears of gratitude. Grateful that they all get to live another day, grateful that Maverick and Bradley are giving each other a second chance, and grateful that there isn't a looming cloud hanging over her head anymore. 

She no longer has to wonder about her father, because now she knows he's exactly where he is supposed to be, and both of their lives are better for it. Instead, she has Cyclone, the best father she could have ever asked for, and that is more than enough. 

Cyclone breaks through the crowd, pulling his daughter into his arms, more than thankful for her safe return. He shouts at her, over the crowd, about how well she did and how happy he is that she made it back. The pair hold each other tight for another few moments, neither ready to let go. 

Maverick takes one more look at Monsoon, who's now folded into Cyclone's arms. It's an unfamiliar sight but not an unwelcomed one, for Maverick. One thing's for sure, she is exactly like her Pops- disciplined and talented in the cockpit of a jet. Even more, though, beyond being a good aviator, she is a good person and that's something that Maverick can't regret. 

---

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. One year after the completion of the Uranium Mission and the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A year later, Cyclone and Monsoon find themselves sitting in The Flight Line Bar, her hand thrust out in front of her, ring glittering under the amber lights. 

"You're going to give me away at my wedding, right?" There is a sort of apprehension to her voice as she sips on her beer. 

"It would be my honor, kid," Cyclone slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her sideways into him. He holds her there for a second before letting her sit back upright, a large smile on her lips. 

"Y/N Seresin has a good ring to it," Cyclone adds, bringing his beer up to his lips. 

"About that," Monsoon starts, causing the Admiral to set his beer down, "Jake and I had a conversation, and we thought that having two Aviators in the same squad with the same last name would get confusing, so it's going to be Y/N Simpson, if that's okay with you,"

The Admiral's eyes flood with tears before he can say a single word. They quickly spill down his cheeks and all he can do is look at his daughter, tears of her own overtaking her eyes. 

"I take that as a "yes"?" Monsoon chuckles, wiping her eyes with a shitty bar napkin. 

"Of course it's a yes, kid," Cyclone grabs her hand, holding it on top of the bar. 

The pair sit, hand in hand , tears still wet on their faces and all Cyclone can think about is how fucking lucky he got, how blessed his life is. He finally has a daughter who is happy and in love, a daughter that he will get to walk down the aisle on the most important day of her life. 

When he chances a glance over to her, Cyclone can see the frizz of her hair highlighted by the neon sign buzzing behind her, her cheeks bright red. For a moment, he can see June in the roundness of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Cyclone thinks back to all those years ago, when he and Monsoon first met sitting in this same bar, but he doesn't entertain the memory very long, after all, he has so much to look forward to. So instead, he squeezed her hand. 

"I love you, kid," Beau tells her earnestly, smiling though a few stray tears. 

"I love you too, Pops," Monsoon returns, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Now and always," 

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[learnenglishnewmotivation]

Here are 50 common abbreviations for competitive exams in Bangladesh:

BCS - Bangladesh Civil Service

PSC - Primary School Certificate

JSC - Junior School Certificate

SSC - Secondary School Certificate

HSC - Higher Secondary Certificate

NTRCA - Non-Government Teachers' Registration and Certification Authority

DU - Dhaka University

JU - Jahangirnagar University

BUET - Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology

CU - Chittagong University

RU - Rajshahi University

KU - Khulna University

MBBS - Bachelor of Medicine and Bachelor of Surgery

BDS - Bachelor of Dental Surgery

LLB - Bachelor of Laws

MBA - Master of Business Administration

BBA - Bachelor of Business Administration

BSc - Bachelor of Science

MSc - Master of Science

BA - Bachelor of Arts

MA - Master of Arts

MCQ - Multiple Choice Questions

VIVA - Viva Voce (oral exam)

IQ - Intelligence Quotient

GK - General Knowledge

IBA - Institute of Business Administration

IELTS - International English Language Testing System

TOEFL - Test of English as a Foreign Language

GRE - Graduate Record Examination

GMAT - Graduate Management Admission Test

BNCC - Bangladesh National Curriculum and Textbook Board

NCTB - National Curriculum and Textbook Board

DPE - Directorate of Primary Education

MPO - Monthly Pay Order

GPA - Grade Point Average

BMDC - Bangladesh Medical and Dental Council

BCPS - Bangladesh College of Physicians and Surgeons

AFMC - Armed Forces Medical College

AFMI - Armed Forces Medical Institute

HSTU - Hajee Mohammad Danesh Science and Technology University

CUET - Chittagong University of Engineering and Technology

KUET - Khulna University of Engineering and Technology

RUET - Rajshahi University of Engineering and Technology

CUJ - Comilla University of Journalism and Mass Communication

JNU - Jagannath University

RUET - Rajshahi University of Engineering and Technology

RUHS - Rajshahi University of Health Sciences

DMC - Dhaka Medical College

MMC - Mymensingh Medical College

JMC - Jashore Medical College

[civilianztvm]

Unveiling Career Paths for Assistant Engineers: Navigating Opportunities

Are you aspiring to become an assistant engineer and wondering about the plethora of career paths available? You're not alone. The world of assistant engineering offers a diverse array of opportunities waiting to be explored. Whether you're a recent graduate or contemplating a career shift, understanding these pathways is crucial for carving out a fulfilling professional journey.

1. Public Sector Undertakings (PSUs):

Assistant engineers play a pivotal role in public sector undertakings, contributing to infrastructure development projects across sectors such as transportation, energy, and telecommunications. These organizations offer stable employment, competitive salaries, and opportunities for career progression. To excel in PSU recruitment exams, consider enrolling in specialized coaching programs tailored for assistant engineers, such as online PSC civil engineering coaching. These programs provide comprehensive study materials, mock tests, and expert guidance to enhance your chances of success.

2. Consulting Firms:

Consulting firms serve as hubs for assistant engineers seeking diverse project experiences and professional growth. From urban planning and environmental engineering to structural design and project management, consultants tackle a wide range of challenges. To thrive in this competitive landscape, hone your technical skills, stay updated on industry trends, and cultivate strong problem-solving abilities. Networking with professionals in the field and pursuing certifications can also bolster your credibility and expand your career opportunities.

3. Research and Development (R&D):

For assistant engineers with a passion for innovation and technology, R&D roles offer an exciting avenue to explore. In industries like manufacturing, automotive, and aerospace, R&D teams drive advancements in product design, materials science, and process optimization. To excel in R&D positions, cultivate a curious mindset, stay abreast of emerging technologies, and pursue advanced degrees or specialized training programs. Collaborating with academic institutions or industry consortia can also provide valuable research opportunities.

4. Entrepreneurship and Startups:

Entrepreneurial-minded assistant engineers can leverage their technical expertise to launch ventures or join early-stage startups. Whether developing groundbreaking inventions or offering niche engineering services, startups thrive on creativity, agility, and risk-taking. To succeed in the startup ecosystem, cultivate a strong entrepreneurial mindset, build a robust network of mentors and investors, and continuously refine your business acumen. Embrace challenges as learning opportunities and remain adaptable in the face of uncertainty.

5. Government and Regulatory Agencies:

Government agencies and regulatory bodies employ assistant engineers to enforce building codes, safety standards, and environmental regulations. Roles in agencies like the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) or the Department of Transportation (DOT) involve ensuring compliance with laws and regulations, conducting inspections, and overseeing infrastructure projects. To pursue careers in government agencies, familiarize yourself with relevant laws and regulations, cultivate strong communication and negotiation skills, and consider pursuing additional certifications or specialized training in regulatory affairs.

Conclusion:

Aspiring assistant engineers are presented with a myriad of career opportunities across diverse sectors and industries. Whether you aspire to work in public sector undertakings, consulting firms, research and development, entrepreneurship, or government agencies, each pathway offers unique challenges and rewards. By staying abreast of industry trends, honing your technical skills, and leveraging specialized coaching programs like online PSC civil engineering coaching, you can embark on a fulfilling career journey filled with growth and success. Remember, the key lies in embracing opportunities, continuously learning, and seizing the chance to make a meaningful impact in the world of engineering.

[govtjobsonly]

Goa PSC Recruitment: 18 Vacancies for Various Positions - Apply Now Goa PSC Recruitment's latest announcement for 18 various vacancies, including Assistant Professor and others on deputation. Eligibility requires BE/B.Tech, master’s degree, or post-graduation. The application window opens on March 22, 2024, and closes on April 22, 2024. Find detailed information below.

[hardynwa]

Police arrest fake corps member in NYSC camp

The Nasarawa State Police Command has confirmed the arrest of a fake National Youth Service Corp member, Ogeh Bethel Chibuife at the Magaji Dan Yumusa Orientation Camp, Keffi. A statement issued on Thursday by the Police Public Relations Officer of the state, DSP Ramhan Nansel said the arrest followed a complaint lodged at the Keffi Divisional Headquarters by a Staff of NYSC. According to the statement, the suspect was discovered after a head count was conducted on all Corps members undergoing a week’s orientation exercise at the camp. The PPRO stated that the suspect, who was discovered to be a student of Ebonyi State University, Faculty of Management Science and Department of Public Administration gained unlawful entrance into the camp. “She confessed that she was supposed to have graduated in 2022 but had a lot of spillover courses, and in a bid to cover up the lies she’d made to her parents, she went to the market and purchased NYSC uniforms/other items meant for Corps members and sneaked into the Camp to take pictures and send to her parents before nemesis caught up with her. “The Commissioner of Police, Nasarawa State Command, CP Umar Shehu Nadada psc, mni hereby calls on all those nursing ambitions to toe the path of these fake corps members to have a rethink as the long arm of the law will catch up with them”, the statement added. Read the full article

[aaunseo]

Traditional Medicine Courses

Ayurveda is the oldest form of healthcare intervention which has incredible powers of healing even for the most complicated diseases of today’s world. This has put the study of Ayurveda in high demand among young individuals who are dreaming of a successful career in the medical field. Based in India's capital city Delhi, Ayursure provides Ayurveda training in Delhi and is the epitome of Ayurvedic knowledge as well as healing perfection. Not only does Ayursure offer top-notch Ayurvedic courses in Delhi, but it also serves as the best coaching center for Ayurvedic knowledge and promotes a learning atmosphere for students who wish to pursue careers as trained medical practitioners, researchers, or entrepreneurs in the field of Ayurveda. With a primary focus on standard education in Ayurvedic medicine, Ayursure prepares students for medical exams and gives them unparalleled dedication to knowledge and passion to practice Ayurveda which is the ultimate science of healing for the human body.

Ayursure has been built on two primary pillars - experienced staff and high-quality Ayurvedic knowledge with the aim of providing outstanding education while guaranteeing a pleasant educational atmosphere to learn the ancient knowledge of traditional Medicine courses and practice the learnt knowledge for a successful career. Being involved in this field of ancient medical science for more than a decade, Ayursure has created numerous success stories, with its esteemed graduates being identified as champions in the Ayurvedic healthcare industry.

Why Ayursure is the best place to learn knowledge of Ayurveda:

The attributes required to form a successful leader is the emphasis at Ayursure in which academic excellence stands as a secondary goal but instilling responsibility to society and nation is the primary goal for every student. Individual ample attention and mentoring motivate the students to realize their true potential, thereby challenging any odds and surpassing every obstacle.

Ayursure does not work every day merely imparting knowledge; it inculcates high professional ethical values in its students to enable them to achieve excellence in clinical practice, academics, research and pharmaceuticals nutraceuticals as well as achieving the perfect balance between a healthy body and mind. The vision and mission of the institution are based on an ambition to be established as a trusted brand synonymous with true Ayurveda, which will act as the centre for students; doctors; researchers: pharmaceutical companies and all stakeholders engaged in the health sector which promotes natural heading.

Courses available at Ayursure:

Ayursure is a company that provides a wide variety of Ayurveda courses in Delhi geared towards training aspiring practitioners of Ayurveda. Right from the complete six-month online live classes for MD/PSC Entrance exams to subject-specific customised courses; Ayursure offers diverse and flexible choices as per every student’s availability of time and preferences towards learning it all about ayurvedic knowledge. For the interested ones who want to get more into it, there is also 10-month classroom sessions for MD Entrance exams where they cover all aspects of preparation with professionally competent ayurvedic teachers. Moreover, BAMS professional year-wise courses provide a systematized way of understanding the basics and building a solid foundation for learning. No matter which option a student chooses between online or classroom learning, they can enjoy and rely on the expertise and commitment to quality that Ayursure represents.

The objectives of Ayursure are clear and focused:

1.           Excellence in Entrance Examinations: Ayursure believes in fulfilling the dreams of students by helping them to score well and bring about prosperity through the successes performed during competitive medical entrance examinations.

2.           In-depth Knowledge of Ayurveda Texts: With a curriculum aimed at probing into the rich ancient Indian Ayurveda scriptures, it remains assured that scholars are acquainted with all aspects and knowledge of healing science.

3.           Consistency and Regular Performance: By providing individual care and continuous checks through assessments, the Ayursure system helps students remain consistent over time while doing well in class.

4.           Stress-Free Study Environment: Aware of the critical role mental balance plays in success at learning, Ayursure creates a stress-free study environment capable of yielding promising results.

5.           Integral Development of Students: Apart from achieving remarkable academic achievements, Ayursure also concentrates on the total development of children and grows them into renowned scholars in Ayurveda, or become natural healing researchers involved within Ayurveda.

Conclusion:

In summary, Ayursure is the personification of perfection in education on Ayurveda located at the heart of India in New Delhi. More than a mere coaching center, Ayursure also helps create an environment where future Ayurvedic practitioners benefit from the joy of being acknowledged and become professional healers who thrive with high options to reach out for the betterment of patients' health through Ayurveda. Ayursure focuses on specialised traditional medicine courses and trains students to take medical exams with a high level of professionalism and dedication to knowledge. Since its conception, Ayursure has grown to over 10 years in the business of Ayurvedic education and this decade of experience aligns with many stories of success by providing brilliant graduates who contributed greatly across diverse medical sectors nationwide. By providing individual attention and the commitment to training students how to take responsibility, Ayursure which is the best institute for Ayurveda training in Delhi teaches individuals what they need in order for them to succeed across clinical practice as well as academics, also with regard to research involving pharmaceuticals. Ayursure is designed to provide a variety of Ayurveda courses in Delhi, including both online live classes and on-campus sessions for every student to achieve the right quality education that suits their interests. Aiming from getting good results in entrance exams to attaining a profound understanding of Ayurveda scriptures, the experienced and knowledgeable staff’s objectives are clear and focused on a persistent performance level with a stress-free learning atmosphere. If you also see yourself as a top medical professional in the field of Ayurveda, Ayursure is the perfect destination to turn this dream into a real one.

[sabhijobs]

Kerala PSC Jobs Notification 2023: Apply Online for 150 Assistant Manager Vacancies

[crimechannels]

By • Olalekan Fagbade Insecurity; Former IG of Police cautions parents adresses Nigerians A former Inspector General of Police, Mr Solomon Arase, has advised parents to carry out thorough background checks before entrusting their children to anyone. He made the call on Thursday in Lagos during a book launch with the title, “We are priceless”, authored by a crime security reporter, Juliana Francis. Arase, currently the Chairman of the Police Service Commission(PSC), said it was essential to prioritise the safety and well-being of the young ones. According to him, profiling individuals who express interest in taking care of children is a responsible approach. “Parents should not simply hand over their children to anyone who volunteers to take them to the city or elsewhere. “It is important to assess the character, reputation, and intentions of individuals before making such decisions,” he said. Arase, also the Chairman of the Occasion, advised parents on the importance of ongoing monitoring. He noted that once parents had entrusted their children to someone, it was imperative to maintain regular contact and keep a tab on their activities. The PSC boss said that obtaining the phone numbers and contact information of the individuals responsible for the children’s well-being remain crucial for effective communication and oversight. “Keep a tab on your kids as they go along. Get the phone number of who they are going to stay with and know what they are doing, it is a holistic approach,” he added. Arase suggested that training law enforcement officers was essential in countering these crimes. This, he said, coud be achieved by educating law enforcement personnel about the signs and the checklist of indicators associated with human trafficking and other crimes against children. Mr Godwin Morka, a retired director, National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons (NAPTIP), called for collective responsibility in combating the crime. Morka said that cmbating human trafficking requires a united effort from individuals, communities, organisations, and government agencies. “There is need for concerted effort by all to stop human trafficking. “It is doing great damage to Nigerian youths, particularly the female gender. “The book launched by Francis is one way to the directive, others should join in any capacity in fighting the menace,” he said. The author, Francis, who shared a personal experience of how she was raped at a young age, pleaded with parents to exercise caution and not blindly trust individuals who offer to sponsor their children’s travel expenses. According to her, the experience inspired her to become passionate about covering the activities of National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons (NAPTIP) and helping girls who have been victims of trafficking. Francis said that she was rape at a tender age, but could not tell anybody but after graduating from university she started covering NAPTIP. “I saw girls being trafficked and raped and that was how what happened to me make me passionately have interest to start covering NAPTIP and the girls. “I saw a 10-year-old girl kept in a hotel, being violated and raped by whitemen and her madam was collecting money (dollars) from the mem,” she said. Francis, CEO of Youthlsens Initiative Development, a non-governmental organisation, said, “We need to start to educate our girls so that when someone tell them he want to take them to abroad they should know nothing is wrong.” She urged parents to be careful and not just release their children to anybody who volunteered to take them abroad and foot the traveling bills. The Publisher of securitynews alert.com called on everyone to unite to fight the crime. “Everyone should become a campaigner, I want my book to have an effect, is a family book, even though the target may be secondary school students. “Everybody should be more enlighten about issue that has to do with human trafficking,” she said. (NAN) (www

#advisesparents #Pscchairman

[stpaulscoaching]

Oman prometric pass mark

Welcome to St. Paul's Coaching Centre, where we prioritize the sharing of experiences as a crucial element in achieving success. With extensive knowledge gained from working with the Ministry of Health in Dubai and Oman for numerous years, we are well-equipped to assist medical professionals in qualifying for licensing exams and obtaining Dataflow clearance efficiently, all within a limited timeframe. Our ultimate goal is to ensure that individuals secure proper placements in their relevant fields. Whether you prefer online or offline learning, we offer courses that can be tailored to your convenience. Our comprehensive curriculum covers the essential topics required for licensure exams and Dataflow clearance, including the Health Authority Abu Dhabi (HAAD), Ministry of Health (MOH), Dubai Health Authority (DHA), and various Prometric exams in Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, and Kuwait. Additionally, we provide training in Basic Life Support (BLS) and Advanced Cardiovascular Life Support (ACLS) as per the American Heart Association (AHA) guidelines. At St. Paul's Coaching Centre, we understand the importance of a structured and focused approach to exam preparation. Our courses are designed to optimize your learning experience, ensuring you acquire the necessary knowledge and skills efficiently. We employ experienced instructors who have firsthand experience with the licensing exams and are well-versed in the intricacies of the healthcare systems in Dubai and Oman. Through our courses, you will gain a deep understanding of the exam format, content, and scoring criteria. We provide comprehensive study materials, including textbooks, practice exams, and online resources, to enhance your preparation. Our instructors are readily available to clarify any doubts or questions you may have, guiding you through the entire learning process. We recognize that time is of the essence, especially for busy medical professionals. Therefore, our courses are designed to be flexible, allowing you to learn at your own pace and convenience. Our online platform provides easy access to course materials, lectures, and interactive sessions. If you prefer an offline mode of learning, our physical coaching centre offers a supportive and conducive environment for focused studying. Apart from exam preparation, we emphasize the importance of practical skills development. Our BLS and ACLS courses, conducted according to AHA guidelines, equip healthcare professionals with essential life-saving techniques. These certifications not only enhance your professional profile but also provide the confidence and competence needed to handle emergency situations effectively. At St. Paul's Coaching Centre, we are committed to your success. Our experienced team is dedicated to providing personalized attention and support throughout your learning journey. We take pride in our track record of helping countless medical professionals achieve their career goals and secure placements in their desired fields. Whether you are a fresh graduate or an experienced practitioner, our courses can help you overcome the challenges of licensing exams and Dataflow clearance. Join us at St. Paul's Coaching Centre and unlock your full potential for a successful medical career.

Oman prometric pass mark

Government psc coaching centre

[medblogexams]

Title: Cracking the Maze: Your Ultimate Guide to Government Exam Preparation

Introduction:

Preparing for government exams can often feel like navigating through a complex maze of syllabi, question patterns, and extensive competition. However, with the right strategy and a comprehensive test series, you can equip yourself with the necessary tools to crack these exams successfully. In this article, we will delve into the importance of test series for government exams and provide valuable insights to help you achieve your goals. Let's unravel the secrets to cracking the maze of government exams!

1. Why Test Series Matter for Government Exams

Government exams are known for their rigorous selection process, and a well-designed test series plays a pivotal role in your preparation. It not only assesses your knowledge and understanding of various subjects but also helps you gauge your strengths and weaknesses. By practicing with a test series, you can identify the areas that require improvement, manage time efficiently, and build confidence to face the actual exam.

2. Key Benefits of a Comprehensive Test Series

(i) Real Exam-like Experience: A good test series simulates the actual exam environment, enabling you to adapt to the exam format, time constraints, and pressure.

(ii) Subject-wise Evaluation: Test series often provide subject-wise analysis, highlighting your performance in each subject. This helps you identify your strong and weak areas, enabling targeted preparation.

(iii) Performance Tracking: Regularly attempting test series allows you to track your progress over time, measure improvement, and make necessary adjustments to your study plan.

(iv) Time Management Skills: Test series foster time management skills, allowing you to allocate appropriate time to each section, increasing your efficiency during the exam.

(v) Confidence Building: Consistent practice with a comprehensive test series builds confidence, reduces exam anxiety, and enhances your overall performance.

3. Popular Government Exams and Relevant Keywords

When preparing for government exams, it's crucial to understand the specific exams that fall under this category. Here are some popular government exams and relevant keywords associated with them:

(i) UPSC Civil Services Examination: Keywords: UPSC exam, IAS exam, UPSC preparation, civil services test series.

(ii) SSC Combined Graduate Level Examination: Keywords: SSC CGL exam, SSC CGL preparation, CGL test series, SSC exam practice.

(iii) Banking Exams (IBPS, SBI): Keywords: Banking exam preparation, IBPS test series, SBI PO exam, banking practice tests.

(iv) Railway Exams (RRB): Keywords: RRB exam, railway exam preparation, RRB test series, railway recruitment exam.

(v) State Public Service Commission Exams: Keywords: State PSC exam, PCS test series, state civil services preparation, PSC exam practice.

4. Choosing the Right Test Series

To maximize your chances of success, selecting the right test series is crucial. Consider the following factors:

(i) Quality and Accuracy: Look for well-reputed test series that provide accurate and up-to-date content aligned with the exam syllabus.

(ii) Varied Question Bank: A comprehensive test series should offer a diverse range of questions, including previous years' papers and mock tests, to provide a holistic preparation experience.

(iii) Performance Analysis: Ensure the test series offers detailed performance analysis, including subject-wise insights, question-wise accuracy, and solutions.

(iv) Expert Guidance: Opt for test series backed by subject matter experts who can provide valuable feedback and guidance for improvement.

Conclusion:

Cracking government exams may seem like a challenging maze, but with a comprehensive test series and a well-structured preparation plan, you can navigate through it successfully. Remember to choose the right test series, analyze your performance, and adapt your study plan accordingly. With dedication, perseverance, and the right resources, you can unlock the doors to a rewarding career in the government sector.

[kidneyfoundationohio]

Thriving After Transplant

Boyd was diagnosed with primary sclerosing cholangitis (PSC) – a liver disease - at 20 years old. He was caught completely off guard, having no idea where the illness came from. He felt scared and humbled; his entire lifestyle had to change. He found out a year after being diagnosed that he would need a liver transplant.

For the next five years, he tried to stay as busy he could to keep his mind off of how sick he was. Finally, in November of 2002 – the Cleveland Clinic called and said they had a liver from a deceased donor. After a few months, he felt back to normal. Having put off going to school while waiting for a transplant, he enrolled in classes part-time at Tri-C, while working full-time, and ultimately graduated from Ursuline in 2017.

Everything seemed on track until abnormal blood work came back from one of his monthly visits. After receiving a kidney biopsy, Boyd was diagnosed with End-Stage Renal Disease (ESRD). While the medications he was taking were working to keep his liver healthy, they were toxic on his kidneys.

Feeling in denial at this point, it wasn’t until he finally noticed how much weight he’d lost – nearly 25lbs – that it hit him. Boyd ended up going to the hospital in the summer of 2021 and immediately began 24-hour dialysis in the emergency room. The doctor had to do a double take at his BUN levels (almost 200) and wasn’t sure how he was even still alive.

In Boyd’s words, “I never want to feel like I felt then again.” His eyes were opened when he started dialysis and began feeling better. He could see clearly now and felt blessed and grateful to be alive. He was fortunate to be surrounded by a great support system – his wife and daughter, his friends, the care team at the hospital, and his employer.

It was never a question in Boyd’s mind to get on the transplant waitlist. Why? “Do you want to be tied to this [dialysis] the rest of your life? I sure don’t.”

After two and a half years on the waitlist, Boyd received a kidney transplant on May 2, 2022! He is grateful to be back at work, and no longer tied to dialysis. He feels healthier, stronger, and happy to continue living life with his wife and daughter.

Boyd said it’s been interesting to watch healthcare change over the past 25 years – since his liver transplant – how far technology and innovation have come in transplant. He thought more people would be informed on the benefits, but there’s still people who are apprehensive, that’s why he continues to share his story.

Hear more from Boyd, and other transplant recipients, in Roadmap for Kidney Transplantation: Part Three.

[civilianztvm]

Unlocking Success: The Advantages of Enrolling in an Online Assistant Engineer Coaching Class

In today's competitive job market, aspiring assistant engineers are constantly seeking ways to enhance their skills and increase their chances of success. One valuable resource that many are turning to is online assistant engineer coaching classes. These virtual platforms offer a range of benefits that can significantly aid individuals in their journey towards becoming successful assistant engineers. In this blog post, we'll explore the numerous advantages of enrolling in such programs and why they're worth considering for anyone serious about their career in civil engineering.

1. Flexibility and Convenience

Online assistant engineer coaching classes offer unparalleled flexibility, allowing students to access course materials and lectures at their own convenience. Whether you're a full-time student, a working professional, or juggling other responsibilities, the flexibility of online learning enables you to study at times that best suit your schedule. This flexibility eliminates the need to commute to a physical classroom, saving both time and money in the process.

2. Comprehensive Curriculum

Top-tier online PSC civil engineering coaching classes provide a comprehensive curriculum designed to cover all aspects of the assistant engineer exam. From core concepts to advanced topics, these courses are meticulously crafted to ensure that students receive a well-rounded education that prepares them for success. Additionally, students have access to a wide range of study materials, including video lectures, practice exams, and interactive quizzes, allowing for a thorough understanding of the subject matter.

3. Expert Instruction

One of the key advantages of online assistant engineer coaching classes is access to expert instruction from experienced civil engineers and educators. These instructors bring a wealth of knowledge and real-world experience to the virtual classroom, providing invaluable insights and guidance to students. Whether you're struggling with a difficult concept or seeking career advice, having access to knowledgeable instructors can greatly enhance your learning experience and help you overcome any obstacles you may encounter.

4. Interactive Learning Environment

Many online coaching classes utilize interactive learning tools and technologies to engage students and promote active learning. From virtual labs to discussion forums, these platforms foster collaboration and interaction among peers, creating a dynamic learning environment that mimics the experience of a traditional classroom setting. Additionally, students have the opportunity to receive personalized feedback from instructors, enabling them to track their progress and identify areas for improvement.

5. Cost-Effectiveness

Compared to traditional classroom-based coaching programs, online assistant engineer coaching classes offer significant cost savings. Without the need for physical facilities or overhead expenses, online coaching providers can offer their services at a fraction of the cost, making high-quality education accessible to a wider audience. Additionally, online students save money on commuting, accommodation, and other associated expenses, further increasing the overall affordability of these programs.

Conclusion

Enrolling in an online assistant engineer coaching class offers a multitude of benefits that can greatly enhance your chances of success in the field of civil engineering. From flexibility and convenience to expert instruction and cost-effectiveness, these programs provide a comprehensive and accessible pathway to achieving your career goals. Whether you're a recent graduate or a seasoned professional looking to advance your skills, investing in online coaching can be a wise decision that pays dividends in the long run. So why wait? Take the first step towards unlocking your full potential today!

[pankaj9510]

Sarkari Exams

Sarkari exams refer to government exams conducted in India for various government job vacancies. These exams are conducted by different government bodies and organizations at the central, state, and local levels. Some popular Sarkari exams in India include:

Union Public Service Commission (UPSC) Exams: UPSC conducts exams like the Civil Services Examination (for IAS, IPS, IFS, etc.), Combined Defense Services Examination (CDS), National Defense Academy Examination (NDA), etc.

Staff Selection Commission (SSC) Exams: SSC conducts exams like Combined Graduate Level Examination (CGL), Combined Higher Secondary Level Examination (CHSL), Junior Engineer Examination (JE), etc.

Railway Recruitment Board (RRB) Exams: RRB conducts exams for various posts in the Indian Railways like Railway Recruitment Board Non-Technical Popular Categories (RRB NTPC), Railway Recruitment Board Group D, etc.

Banking Exams: Banking exams are conducted by various banks and institutions like the State Bank of India (SBI), Institute of Banking Personnel Selection (IBPS), and Reserve Bank of India (RBI) for positions like Probationary Officer (PO), Clerk, Specialist Officer (SO), etc.

State Public Service Commission (PSC) Exams: Each state in India has its own Public Service Commission that conducts exams for state government job vacancies. Examples include the Maharashtra Public Service Commission (MPSC), Uttar Pradesh Public Service Commission (UPPSC), etc.

Defense Exams: Exams like the Indian Army, Indian Navy, and Indian Air Force recruitments are conducted for various posts.

These are just a few examples, and there are many other Sarkari exams conducted for different government job sectors such as education, healthcare, engineering, etc. The eligibility criteria, exam pattern, syllabus, and selection process may vary for each exam. It's important to refer to the official websites or notifications of the respective government organizations for the latest and accurate information regarding Sarkari exams.

[hardynwa]

Police arrest fake corps member in NYSC camp

The Nasarawa State Police Command has confirmed the arrest of a fake National Youth Service Corp member, Ogeh Bethel Chibuife at the Magaji Dan Yumusa Orientation Camp, Keffi. A statement issued on Thursday by the Police Public Relations Officer of the state, DSP Ramhan Nansel said the arrest followed a complaint lodged at the Keffi Divisional Headquarters by a Staff of NYSC. According to the statement, the suspect was discovered after a head count was conducted on all Corps members undergoing a week’s orientation exercise at the camp. The PPRO stated that the suspect, who was discovered to be a student of Ebonyi State University, Faculty of Management Science and Department of Public Administration gained unlawful entrance into the camp. “She confessed that she was supposed to have graduated in 2022 but had a lot of spillover courses, and in a bid to cover up the lies she’d made to her parents, she went to the market and purchased NYSC uniforms/other items meant for Corps members and sneaked into the Camp to take pictures and send to her parents before nemesis caught up with her. “The Commissioner of Police, Nasarawa State Command, CP Umar Shehu Nadada psc, mni hereby calls on all those nursing ambitions to toe the path of these fake corps members to have a rethink as the long arm of the law will catch up with them”, the statement added. Read the full article