You don’t explain a callsign. You just answer when it’s called.
One square of leather. One star. Four characters and a slash burned so deep the shadow has its own shadow.
No “Got Your Six” spelled out for tourists. No extra stitching for clout. Just the mark you flash when the frequency goes quiet and the only thing left is who still shows up.
The guys on the bird already know what it means. The ones on the ground will figure it out when they see it coming through the smoke.
Wear it backwards when you’re running late. Wear it forwards when you’re running point. Either way, the shield stays in the fight.
