Old 03-26-2014, 01:21 AM   #1
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"Diverted"

"Diverted"


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The QANTAS Airbus-380 pulled away from the terminal in Sydney at only one-third capacity. Captain Gregory Hume knew that the Suits at the Main Office would have gone ape shit to find that the flight hadn't been cancelled. The airline could have given the 180 passengers half fares -- even free fares -- on the under-booked flight leaving in just six hours and still saved money.

Hume glanced about the cockpit, at the expensive hardware and veteran flight crew members working with him and thought, A little jet fuel will be the least of their worries in a few hours.



Four hours into the flight, the Navigator rose to stretch his legs. He glanced knowingly to his pilot, who nodded inconspicuously, then pulled a syringe from his travel bag and sunk the needle into the Co-Pilot's neck. The man jerked and instinctively reached to grasp the arm wrapping around his body, securing him. But the struggle was short: seconds later, he was dead.

Quickly, Hume and his Navigator initiated their plan. They'd been practicing it for the better part of eight weeks with the help of an Airbus simulator that the Airline thought was in a Sydney warehouse awaiting parts. Others had been involved in the plan, too, but compartmentalization meant that Hume and his partner knew nothing of them.

They'd never met the maintenance man who'd installed a device in the landing gear compartment, a device that -- when the Navigator now dropped the gear -- was ejected, falling to the ocean below where it would fake the black box signals of the Airbus.

They'd never met the software technician who'd installed new programs that would kill the real black boxes, send fake signals of an explosion and decompression, and then kill the communications systems themselves.

They'd never met the air systems vendor who'd replaced one of the emergency oxygen tanks with one containing a new, less lethal form of fentanyl anesthetic. The odorless, tasteless gas began filling the passenger compartment with the flip of a switch once Hume and the Navigator had donned their personal oxygen breathing devices.

And they'd never met the many people involved in restoration of the Cold War era landing strip on an up-until-now abandoned island to the east, which they banked the jet toward once they'd finished faking the craft's demise.

"Let's take a look," Hume said, unlocking a small locker at his feet and removing the small semi-automatic pistol that was now part of every Qantas jet's mandatory equipment. "They should be out by now."

They found exactly what they'd expected: 180 passengers and 12 Flight Attendants passed out, in their seats, on the floors, in the bathrooms. One pair was even partially naked in the upper deck bathroom, incapacitated during their attempt to join the Mile High Club.

"Go get'em," Hume commanded, continuing his walk about the cabin, checking to ensure that the gas had affected everyone sufficiently.

The Navigator returned with a bag full of zip ties -- hidden in a locker by yet another unknown conspirator -- and they set about laying each of the passengers and crew members face down and securing their hands and ankles. It seemed to take forever, and yet when they'd finished, they still had two hours before they had to begin their decent.

"I'm glad we didn't need that," the Navigator said through his mask, glancing at the gun in Hume's hands as the pair returned to the cockpit. "Not too fond of blood."

"Me neither," Hume said, stopping to retrieve a bottle of water from a cart before turning back to his fellow conspirator to pump one round into his chest. The Navigator jerked, then wobbled, but didn't go down. Hume grimaced a bit, raised his aim, and put a second round through the man's forehead. The blood splatter sprayed all about, including upon Hume. As he watched the man fall to the carpeted deck, he grimaced yet again, saying with an accusing tone, "Now, see what you did?"



Hume guided the huge jet down with what was likely the most professional landing of his life, particularly considering the narrowness of the runway, the rough nature of its surface, and a wicked cross wind that at one point had the port wing trimming fronds from the nearest trees. When the Airbus came to a stop, he was looking out upon the open Pacific, just fifty yards ahead of the huge craft's nose. His heart was pounding ferociously and he was drenched in sweat.

He returned to the passenger compartment, checked for movement -- of which there was none -- and used the emergency procedure to force open the forward door just as a vehicle mounted stairway approached and made contact with the fuselage.

"Are we secure?" the man at the top of the ladder asked through his own oxygen mask. When Hume nodded, six others hurried inside and spread about the craft's interior, wasting no time in lifting the unconscious passengers and hurrying them out the door. The lead man watched for a moment, then smiled to Hume. "You did good."

"Thank you, brother," Hume said. He watched the others for a moment, then began, "My plane and money are waiting I--"

He never finished, the bullet passing through his brain ending his life even more quickly than those that had already been taken.

Marcus holstered the small pistol, looking down at the no-longer-needed conspirator, and said, "Sorry, brother."


(OOC: I am currently writing the second post that will allow other writers to join.)

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Old 03-26-2014, 11:55 AM   #2
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Old 04-07-2014, 02:05 AM   #3
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It took less almost two hours to remove all 192 of the still-breathing bodies. They were loaded into the one of three trucks that each made three trips from the air strip to an underground facility half a mile away, hidden by the thick jungle above it.

At the same time that the passengers were being transported by Alpha Crew, Bravo Crew was setting the charges that would, when triggered, disassemble the big airliner. Its wings and tail section would fall away, after which the fuselage would be cracked like an egg into three sections. Each of the sections would be dragged to the shore and off into the ocean by the powerful tug from which thick steel cables were already stretched.

Two hours after the last passenger was removed, there was no sign that the Airbus had ever been on the island.



Cooper Lee was in what was now called his office when one of his men rushed in with a concerned expression. "We have a problem."

In the Communications Room, Cooper read the print out and mumbled, "This can't be happening."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I think it is," the Comm Officer confirmed, tapping at a keyboard and bringing up some additional information on the large monitor on the wall. "I guess compartmentalization has it's drawbacks."

A tone signaled an incoming message. Cooper wagged a finger toward the Board, saying, "Patch it through."

A man they only knew as Mister Black appeared on the monitor. He wasted no time, asking, "Is it true?"

"Yes, sir," Cooper said. "The packet was intercepted, and without it, we don't know who the target is."

"There's no way of finding the man's identity?"

"Sir, we don't even know that it's a man," the Comm Officer cut in. "We weren't told who we were supposed to be bringing back to Headquarters. Only that he -- or she -- would be on this flight. It could be anyone of the passengers."

"Or even a crew member," Cooper added. He saw the scrutinizing expression on Mister Black's face and just shrugged. "Without the information packet, and with the way we were so heavily compartmentalized ... we simply have to hold everyone here until those who set this up make contact again."

"When will that happen?" Mister Black asked.

Again Cooper shrugged. "Today ... tomorrow ... next week, who knows? I certainly don't. It was my job to prep' this facility to hold a handful of people for a handful of days. Beyond that..."

He shrugged again.

Mister Black leaned forward in the image, reached out a hand ... and the screen went black.

Cooper and the Comm' Officer looked to one another with questioning glances. Cooper headed for the door.

"Where you going?" the Officer asked.

"We've got almost 200 people being held in an underground facility," he began, glancing back but not slowing, "and the only food and water available to them is on a plane that we are about to toss into the ocean."



The passengers and crew regained consciousness over an hour or two long period. They found themselves with their hands zip tied together and their feet -- also zip tied -- secured to bolts screwed into the concrete floor of the basement room. They could sit up and look about; they could even stand if they wanted, though balance would be difficult; but they weren't going anywhere.

Near each corner of the room was a door, and just inside each door was a pair of men with small urban style machine guns. The men watched them, but otherwise kept their mouths shut, ignoring questions, complaints, and threats.

Cooper entered with his right hand man, Richard "Rick" Stevens at his side. They stood just inside the room for a long moment, studying the passengers and crew.

"What are we going to do with all of them?" Rick whispered. "We were supposed to know who we're after by now ... supposed to take him and a few others for ransom, then--"

He stopped short of saying kill the rest, just in case someone had really good hearing and overheard him.

That was, of course, what the fate of the majority of those assembled was to be: execution. But now that they had no idea who their target was, Cooper and the others would have to keep all of these people alive for now.


And that was going to be a lot harder than anyone imagined...
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Old 04-07-2014, 10:29 AM   #4
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Dak-Ho Kwon (on his North Korean Passport)




Speaks fluent korean , English (Americanized), and several other languages. Walks and talks like a long time solider but is traveling on civilian passport from N Korea to Austrailia, as a tourist. Extremely fit and strong he laughs easy, but has the cold eyes of someone unafraid to kill.

He was one of the first to recover. He continued to feign unconiousness. He opened his eyes a slit to see what was going on. He knew he had been drugged from the taste in his mouth. He could tell that he was no longer on the plane, and that he was secured in some kind of bunker.

He shifted his hips and smiled, nothing mprtant had been removed from his pockets. Being one if the closest to the guards, he could barely overhear their whispered conversation. They were looking for someone, or something, and once found the rest would die.

He tried to figure out he odds of his escaping. The info he gathered on his mission was of vital importance to his country, and if not gotten to his superiors it could lead to WWIII.

The guards were too alert right now, but there were too few of them to cover so many. Not to mention guarding prisoners was boring for trained troops, and these guys weren't trained military, mostly mercenaries he guessed with a lack of honor and discipline.

Dak-Ho smiled and silenty repeated a mantra that had saved him more than once...

In times of war or uncertainty there is a special breed of warrior ready to answer our Nation's call; a common man with uncommon desire to succeed. Forged by adversity, he stands alongside America's finest special operations forces to serve his country and the American people, and to protect their way of life. I am that man.*

My Trident is a symbol of honor and heritage. Bestowed upon me by the heroes who have gone before, it embodies the trust of those whom I have sworn to protect. By wearing the Trident, I accept the responsibility of my chosen profession and way of life. It is a privilege that I must earn every day.*

My loyalty to Country and Team is beyond reproach. I humbly serve as a guardian to my fellow Americans, always ready to defend those who are unable to defend themselves. I do not advertise the nature of my work, nor seek recognition for my actions. I voluntarily accept the inherent hazards of my profession, placing the welfare and security of others before my own.*

I serve with honor on and off the battlefield. The ability to control my emotions and my actions, regardless of circumstance, sets me apart from other men. Uncompromising integrity is my standard. My character and honor are steadfast. My word is my bond.*

We expect to lead and be led. In the absence of orders I will take charge, lead my teammates, and accomplish the mission. I lead by example in all situations.*

I will never quit. I persevere and thrive on adversity. My Nation expects me to be physically harder and mentally stronger than my enemies. If knocked down, I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish the mission. I am never out of the fight.*

We demand discipline. We expect innovation. The lives of my teammates and the success of the mission depend on me — my technical skill, tactical proficiency, and attention to detail. My training is never complete.*

We train for war and fight to win. I stand ready to bring the full spectrum of combat power to bear in order to achieve my mission and the goals established by my country. The execution of my duties will be swift and violent when required, yet guided by the very principles I serve to defend.*

Brave men have fought and died building the proud tradition and feared reputation that I am bound to uphold. In the worst of conditions, the legacy of my teammates steadies my resolve and silently guides my every deed. I will not fail.

He smiles as he hears others awakening. He knows he will survive, he will escape, he will complete his mission, he will win, he is a U.S. Navy Seal Master Chief.
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Old 04-07-2014, 11:51 AM   #5
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I stared blankly at the book in front of me and sighed. This flight was my only chance to study for my microbiology final. In between a shoot for Takanaka sunglasses in Tokyo and a runway show in Sydney followed by a shoot for Vogue I somehow had to find the time to actually sit down and take the final online. Don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled my career was taking off, but finishing my degree in neuroscience was taking a backseat and it was a little frustrating. I was down to taking one class at a time and it usually took me almost 6 months to complete because of my hectic travel schedule and work. I loved shocking interviewers with my intellectual side; most people still assumed models were airheads, well not this model.

I was considered “plus size” by the industry and I was rapidly becoming the most popular plus sized model my agency had ever signed. I just thought it would be a fun way to pay my way through college but somehow it turned into this. I stared out the window for a moment and the pang of longing returned. I missed my small apartment back on campus with my awesome roommate Chelsea. We had such a great time together; dating cute guys, drinking on the weekends, hitting the gym together. I reminded myself to email her when we landed and send her pictures of the famous opera house. Before I took this job I had never even been to Canada; now a scant 2 years later I had been to well over 20 countries. I worked nonstop, I felt like I was on a never ending roller coaster ride. I still hadn’t even gotten used to seeing my face in the pages of magazines. My ever growing bank account always threw me for a loop when I checked the balance before making big purchases. This Vogue shoot would be the biggest career move yet, followed closely by the impending deal with Victoria’s Secret. If the deal worked out I was going to be the very first plus size VS Angel and walk in the next fashion show with Heidi Klum; Hiedi freaking Klum!!!! I had danced around my hotel suite and screamed with my publicist and agent when they told me on a conference call a couple of weeks ago.

I chided myself and went back to studying. I yawned and took a sip of my Pepsi, I needed to stay awake for another couple of hours to get comfortable with the material in front of me. I settled into my 1st class seat and tried to focus but it wasn’t long before I was asleep.

**

Hours later I awoke startled. This was not the inside of an airplane, and what the hell was that disgusting taste in my mouth? I swallowed a few times and tried to gauge my surroundings. It was dank and dark. My hands and feet were zip tied. What the hell was going on? A terrifying thought entered my mind....terrorists. I struggled against the ties but it was useless, the more I moved the more they cut into my wrists and ankles. I started to panic.

"This cannot be happening..."I whispered quietly.

It seemed I was one of the very few awake currently. I noticed that most of the passengers around me were the same ones I had been sitting near in the 1st class cabin. My stuff was gone, and that pissed me off.

"Hey,"I said to the guard standing nearby," what's going on here? Where are we?"

He refused to answer, or even make eye contact. That just pissed me off even more. I grit my teeth in frustration and sat there, waiting for the other people around me to wake up. Figures, just fucking figures. I wondered if they, whoever they were, planned to hold us for ransom or if we would ever get out of here alive.

I shifted uncomfortably on the concrete floor. My skinny jeans were a little dirty now, my sheer white blouse was ruined, at least I had on a black tank top under it so it wasn't see through. I sighed and observed more passengers waking up, including the guy next to me. Thank God we weren't dead....yet.

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Old 04-07-2014, 01:03 PM   #6
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Name: Randy Hawkins
Age: 40
Physical Description: 6'1" tall, 225lbs, light brown hair cut short, light blue/grey eyes, goatee
Occupation: Contract Killer

Randy hated flying even though he had probably logged as many miles in the air as the pilots that were in the cockpit. He hated being cooped up in an aluminum cylinder with a bunch of whiney rich piss ants that might someday end up being one of the files he received for his, "work".

He was due for a vacation but had taken a last minute contract that would bring him to Japan. This made it a win win situation, as he always enjoyed vacationing there, and it seemed that the women had an affinity for American men. The mark on this job was an especially vile specimen, and when he had first glanced at the file had had almost offered to handle it for free...almost.

Randy looked around the cabin, his eyes stopping on the Ferrari like curves of a particularly fetching redhead a few rows in front of him. He took a sip of his bourbon, and reclined the cushioned leather seat and wondered what she might look like on a beach...under him.

Randy pulled his eyes away from the sleeping reheadand perused the other passengers. It was something he did on these ungodly long trans-continental flight to help pass the time. He would make up stories about them, giving them lives and reasons for being on the same flight as him.

His eyes settled on a young Asian man across theaisle form where he was seated. His hair was was set in a style that would make you think he was a rocker, making his way around the world as part of the Punk scene. It was short on the side but with what he assumed was a heavy dose of product, spiked on top with a slight lean to the side. Randy giggled tohimself as he thought that he kept his hair this way not out of style, but out of necessity. With this cut he could easily tuck it under a wig, or leave it just as it is and be a hit as drag queen in every smoke filled club in Sydney.

That had to be it! He was a crossdresser, making his fortune sqwalling "It's Raining Men" to noisy alcohol-fueled crowds around the globe. This notion made him laugh out loud and he covered his mouth with his hand, feigning a cough to cover it up. After a little while, he grew bored with his game and decided to get some sleep. There were "onna no kos" waiting for for a handsome older gent like himself to come promise them the world and sweep them off of their feet.
****

When he awoke, he was lying on his side, on what seemed to be a concrete floor. His head was pounding a little and he had this god-awful taste in his mouth. It took a few seconds for his eyes to become accustomed to the dim llight of the room, but as he looked out around him, he could see that he wasn't alone. He tried using his hands to right himself, only to find that they were bound, as well as his feet.

"Plasticuffs." he cursed under his breath.

He wriggled around until he was on his stomach, and then slid back until his knees were underneath him. Pushing up with his hands, he was able to get into a kneeling position and take a better look around. The room was massive, and dark. There were sentrys, posted along the walls, each heavily armed and watching those of us waking up intently. His first thought was that he was being doublecrossed by one of his clients, but he quickly dismissed it. They wouldn't risk this kind of exposure by hijacking an entire plane. They would more likely have bombed his car or sent a beautiful young woman to poison his drink. This was somthing different, and at least for now, that seemed like good thing.

He didn't recognize anyof the people sitting around him. They must hhave just carried them in here and dumped them wherever they had a spot. The cuffs on his feet were secured to an eye bolt, mounted in the concrete floor, so while he could stand, he wouldn't be able to move far. For now, he just scooted around until he was sitting, and started thinking of what his next move was.

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Old 04-07-2014, 01:56 PM   #7
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Dak-Ho thought back to the flight, trying to pinpoint anything unusual. There was the guy across the asile, he smiled at their interaction...

Quote:
Originally Posted by gearhead73
His eyes settled on a young Asian man across theaisle form where he was seated. His hair was was set in a style that would make you think he was a rocker, making his way around the world as part of the Punk scene. It was short on the side but with what he assumed was a heavy dose of product, spiked on top with a slight lean to the side. Randy giggled tohimself as he thought that he kept his hair this way not out of style, but out of necessity. With this cut he could easily tuck it under a wig, or leave it just as it is and be a hit as drag queen in every smoke filled club in Sydney.

That had to be it! He was a crossdresser, making his fortune sqwalling "It's Raining Men" to noisy alcohol-fueled crowds around the globe. This notion made him laugh out loud and he covered his mouth with his hand, feigning a cough to cover it up.
Dak's finely honed situational awareness skills told him the guy across the aisle, the one he watched as a possible threat, was secretly laughing at his pretty boy looks and over the top hair.

'Dude if you only knew how many bitches I fucked in the last week, that smile would disappear faster than a Malaysian Airlines Jet.'

He smiled and winked at the cocky prick. 'At least my cover is still working' he thought as they got closer to Australia. Soon I can be done with this assignment, and rejoin my team. He signaled the flight attendent for another fruit juice, the one that was in his bed last night...with her friend who was working coach.

He smiled at the memory of her hot tits in his mouth, while her friend sucked his dick, and leaned back starting to relax.

He shook the reverie out of his head, and refocused on the situation at hand. Cheap zip ties, pretty easy to break, if you could ignore the pain and lacerations. Limited ability to move, but he could stand. As MRE people remained coniousness, he feigned waking up.

The rubenesque redhead that had been sitting in front of him, was only a few feet away. She was awake and looked scared. It didn't appear that they had been mistreated, while they were dirty, they hadn't been assaulted. The guy who was laughing at him was imprisoned as well. Dak could see him looking around and moving more than most. 'Bad idea hombre. Don't call attention to yourself he thought.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark room, Dak counted prisoners. 192, the same as boarded the plane, pus flight crew who had been seperated from the passengers in their own corner. They were all prisoners too. Dak whispered to the redhead in heavily accented english, "keep calm and we'll survive."
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Old 04-07-2014, 02:15 PM   #8
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My ears picked up the whispering and I turned my head and looked down at the Asian guy next to me.

"How do you know?" I whispered back.

I had seen plenty of movies and realized that most of the time in real life, there were no happy endings. As much as i wanted to believe there would be.
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Old 04-07-2014, 02:28 PM   #9
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"Because I've survived worse, much worse." First rule of survival keep your head. Second rule focus on a reason to live. My reason was getting the redhead out of here alive. Focusing on keeping her alive would help me stay alive.

Dak felt his arm wrenched to the side. He looked over his shoulder and found he was cuffed to some slovenly aussie. He was starting to wake up but the smell of stale piss and staler booze assaulted Dak's senses. I must have been more affected by the gas than I thought, missing the fact I'm licked up to another man. He mentally cursed knowing his escape pan just got harder...much much harder.
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Old 04-07-2014, 02:37 PM   #10
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(OOC: The flight was from Sydney, as stated in the opening post. Although I didn't say it in the IC, it was heading to Tokyo, where it is assumed passengers would be staying or continuing onward to all points beyond. I thought I would clarify that, seeing how we have some differing destinations in the above posts. )

Cooper Lee and Rick Stevens, his XO of sorts, watched as the bodies on the floor continued to return to life. Most of the hostages -- 180 passengers and 12 crew -- were either fully conscious or moving about with disorientation; and their reactions to the situation in which they found themselves varied from stunned silence to sobbing to obvious dismay to outright anger.

"We have to keep these people under control," Rick said softly to his boss. "We were supposed to have the target isolated already, and these people..."

He trailed off. Cooper was well aware of Rick's affinity for killing people, regardless of their innocence in the given situation. It was the reason Cooper had recruited his former Special Forces team mate: Cooper had no problem with killing either, but to simply execute nearly 200 people was something he didn't think he could forget.

How do you sleep at night after discharging 200 bullets into 200 skulls? It was a question he'd planned on asking Rick later, after this mission was over. Of course, now, with not knowing who they could or could not kill without incurring the wrath of their employer, that wasn't going to happen.

One of the armed men who'd been wading about through the crowd of hostages approached and whispered, "We have a fatality."

"Fentanyl," Rick said, referring to the anesthetic they'd used to knock out the passengers on the plane. "They said it was safer. They never said it was safe."

"What the fuck's going on?"

Cooper and Rick both looked off into the group of hostages to find a man who had struggled against the binding at his ankles to stand tall. He was wobbling slightly, unable to move his bound feet away from the eyelet in the floor for balance.

"Here we go," Rick whispered, continue with his thought about keeping the hostages under control. As the passenger continued to spout his angry questions and demands, slowly gaining a bit of a following amongst the other passengers, Rick adjusted the semi-automatic pistol on his hip and asked, "What do we do now, boss?"

Cooper listened to the man for a long moment without showing any emotional response, then leaned to the guard and asked, "Where's the dead guy?"

"Gal," the guard clarified, turning to nod his head toward a woman just a few steps away. "Bright red dress ... heels."

Cooper picked out the woman easily, glanced toward the angry passenger, then walked over to stand over the top of the deceased passenger. He looked down at her and shook his head: she was beautiful, a well shaped woman who likely had had men chasing her all of her life, wanting to slip in between those long, athletic legs. The way she was laying, her face was hidden from the other passengers near her, so for as far as they knew, she was still alive but simply hadn't woken up yet.

"Be quiet, please" Cooper said, looking up at the now-yelling man. When the man continued onward, Cooper repeated louder but without any apparent anger in his voice, "Be quiet! Please!"

The man continued to holler, now directing his words directly at Cooper with an onslaught of profanity intermixed with his demands for answers.

With a quick motion, Cooper pulled his side arm and pumped three rounds into the already-dead woman's skull, splashing blood all about her. The passengers and crew nearest her grimaced or looked away or screamed or cried or whatever was appropriate for their own personality.

After a moment, when the noise died down a bit, Cooper looked to the standing man, whose mouth had shut but whose eyes were now wide open with shock. As he holstered his weapon, Cooper said just as evenly as he had before, "Be quiet ... please ... or I will randomly select a fellow passenger and kill him or her."

There were cries and sobs all about the room, but for now, the voiced anger had ended. Cooper turned and walked to a large metal desk left over from the building's former life as part of the United State's cold war era Anti-Submarine Warfare base. He stepped onto the squeaking metal chair, then up onto the desk. He gestured for even more silence, and once he'd gotten all he thought he would, he began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Cooper Lee. But you can call me god ... because from this point onward, your lives are in my hand. If you do or say something I don't like, I will put a bullet in your head. If you try to escape, I will put a bullet in your head. If you resist in anyway, I will put a bullet in your head."

He gave them a moment to consider what was, he knew, an idle threat, then continued. "I'm sure that most of you have seen at least one hostage taking movie in your life, or read a book about such an event. I want you to forget everything you think you know about such situations and listen to me as I explain how things are going to work here."

He looked off to his left, to Rick and a half dozen men who had assembled behind him. He nodded to them, causing them to move toward the hostages, hands filled with more Plasticuffs.

"Each of you is going to have a wrist cuffed to the wrist of another hostage," Cooper went on, "a person of the gender opposite your own. As you are secured to your partner, the pair of you will be taken to a room in another part of this structure. Once you are in that room, you will remain in that room until it is time for you or your partner to be dealt with."

Cooper hesitated to watch the work begin. Two men aimed their weapons at the heads of the two selected hostages while Rick clipped away the existing Plasticuffs and secured the new ones. The pair of hostages was then pulled to their feet and ushered away toward a distant door by one of the guards, then the procedure began with a second pair of hostages.

"Once you are in that other room," Cooper began again, "you will sit quietly and be good little boys and girls."

He smirked a bit before he continued, knowing that some of the hostages already had this thought in their minds. "If you need to use the bathroom facilities, you may. Your partner will help you with the ... particulars of the act ... meaning that you will still be secured to one another and will need to work with one another."

The work continued, with the guards leaving with a pair and returning alone, leaving with a new pair and returning again alone.

"One final note that may be of interest to you," Cooper said. "If you resist ... if you try to fight me or my men ... if you try to escape ... the person to whom you are secured ... your partner ... will receive a bullet in the brain ... and you will remain secured to him or her for the duration of your stay here."

The reaction of the group interested Cooper. The thought of spending hours or days strapped to a dead person -- a person whose death you caused -- must not have been very appealing, he thought, looking at the reactions from some of those assembled.

Cooper dismounted from the desk and -- after a man replaced Rick in his duties -- joined his XO near the wall to watch the work.

"This is going to get complicated," Rick whispered. "Warnings or not, there's going to be rebellion."

"Yes," Cooper said simply.

Rick studied his boss and friend for a moment before asking expectantly, "And ... then what? We can't kill them until we know who our primary target is."

"Well..." Cooper drew a deep breath, watching the ongoing operation before answering with vagueness, "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

(OOC: After you read this, check out this post in the Discussion Thread. If you have any questions, post them there or PM me. I will not be online much today, but we're not in that much of a hurry. We still have writers signing on who need to post their introductions.)
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Old 04-07-2014, 02:53 PM   #11
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Dak looked at the redhead. "Stay alive, whatever it takes stay alive. I will get you home." A guard raises his rifle when he hears Dak walking to the redhead. Dak dodges the strike and kicks the man in the knee breaking his leg. He winks at the girl being lead away as the guards close on him bent on revenge for their injured comrade.
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Old 04-07-2014, 06:56 PM   #12
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Randy sat there watching events unfold before him. This was the time to be quiet, gather information, and start making a plan to get the fuck out of here. A few things stuck out to him right away, and all of them pointed to the fact that these men, whoever they were, had no intention of letting any of these people get out of this alive.

First of all, was the fact that none of them had their face covered. There were a little over a hundred witnesses in this large room, and there was no way they would want t take the chance that they could ever be identified. Second, the head honcho had used a name, Cooper Lee. Randy had no idea if it was real or fake, but in either case, kidnappers didn't give names, even aliases, for fear that somebody somewhere would be able to tie them to that name. Third, and probably the most damning, was that these men appeared to be American, organized, and well trained. That meant they were either mercenaries, or soldiers that had gone off the reservation. The United States had a well known policy of not negotiating with terrorists, and that didn't bode well for at least a third of the passengers on this plane. This fact was reinforced by the ease with which they dispatched the young woman lying on the floor to quiet the asshole that was yelling obscenities.

Randy watched as "God's" flunkies waded into the crowd and started separating them in pairs. With a quick flick of a knife, the guard cut his restraints, and refastened them to a middle aged woman, that had been sitting on the floor next to him sobbing. She seemed to become even more hysterical when she looked at Randy. He was at least a foot taller than her, and her petite body bore quite a contrast to his.

"Shhh. It's ok, we're ok, just try to calm down." Randy whispered to the woman, not sure if he was able to sound convincing.
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Old 04-07-2014, 09:02 PM   #13
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A shriek from one of his men caught Cooper's attention, causing his right hand to instinctually rip his side arm from the hip holster. Near one corner, a Guard collapsed to the floor as three others set upon one of the hostages: some of their hands grasped to control him while others came crashing down into the man's head, face, and chest.

"Stop!"

The men halted their assault at their XO's command. Rick hurried toward the commotion with his own gun drawn. The scene was tense when he got to it a couple of seconds later: at least three fire arms were pointing at the man's head while an equal number were waving to and fro at the other hostages nearby, just to ensure that they knew they were being watched.

Rick stood over the man, studying him for a moment. He was Korean, that as clear, but whether North or South was questionable. While the US may have had restrictions on the movement of the Northern Commies, most of the rest of the world was much more relaxed about trade and travel with the North, particularly if there was money to be made.

That of which Rick was sure was that this man was much more than some businessman or tourist. Rick had witnessed the kick to his man's knee and the tussle that followed: the Korean had handled himself with skill and, if he hadn't been outnumbered, may have gotten loose from the men who were transferring his zip ties. Of course, he would have been shot down and tossed into the jungle to be eaten by the bugs and critters, but that wasn't the point: the point was that this man was extraordinary, and extraordinary men deserved extraordinary treatment.

"Where's the doctor?" Rick asked, the question directed at the men although his eyes were still on the dark eyes of the Korean. When one of the men identified the team doctor's location, Rick continued, "Go get him. Tell him we have a gun shot victim that needs his care."

The guard that had answered Rick's question looked confused. He glanced to the guard laying on the ground, grasping his broken knee and said, "He's not shot."

"Not him," Rick said, pointing his gun and pulling the trigger. All about him reacted in their own mode of surprise as he put a bullet through the Korean's thigh. Rick holstered his weapon, backed up, and clarified, "Him."

Cooper had been slowly approaching the ruckus and was within reach of his friend when he realized what Rick was planning. He contemplating stopping him but didn't: Rick knew he couldn't kill the Korean until they had eliminated him from the primary target pool, so Cooper had no concerns that the rebellious man was leaving here dead.

"Take him to B-12," Cooper said, picking one of the smaller cell-sized rooms on the level below them. "Send the Doc to him ... and make sure he's secure this time--"

"Or the next bullet goes through one of you," Rick warned, glancing about the guards. "Go!"

The guards rolled the Korean to his back, secured both his wrists and feet with Plasticuffs, and lifted him from the ground. They headed off as Cooper looked about to the rest of the hostages, smiled politely, and said, "Okay ... shall we resume?"

The guards returned to their duties as Cooper casually made his way out of the huge room to a hall, a stairwell, and then room B-12 ... to find out who and what this man was all about. For Cooper, too, had a feeling that the slick styled good looking man was a bit too real for him.
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Old 04-07-2014, 09:33 PM   #14
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Dak grit his teeth as the bullet tore through his flesh. He knew that before leaving this island that the son of a bitch who shot him would pay.

As the guards carried him he tested his foot and leg. Everything seemed to work fine, so no lasting damage if their doc was half as good as the Korean quacks he dealt with.

Once locked in room B-12, he examined the wound. Through and through, on the Meaty flesh of his thigh. It would hurt like hell, but he was taught in BUD/S that pain is your friend, it means your alive and can fight.

He tried to stand up and found he could support his weight, if he didn't mind a searing pain running then length of his body. He knew he wound would make the guards less vigilant thinking he was incapacitated. He decided to pay u his injury until he could escape.

He lay on the floor moaning in pain trying to force tears to come from his eyes. He mentally reviewed what he knew. They shot a girl in cold blood to shut up a passenger...or did they? If they're willing to kill, why was he left alive, and a doctor called for? A scene from his favorite movie came into his head. Sean Connery shooting a dad man, so a live prisoner would give up All Capone to Kevin Costner. The girl died from the drug and they used her intimidate the rest of us. He nodded knowing that is exactly what these guys did.

They've told us names, and shown faces, so they are planning to kill us all, but they need us alive for now. They're not typical terrorists, to organized, too disciplined, but not a military force. Too many accents and dialects among the guards that cursed him.

No country would be wiling to risk this kind of exposure for any reason. Then who would. He couldn't think of any known group with both the resources, and the will to pull this off.

He heard a click from the door and he increased his wails as the door opened.
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Old 04-08-2014, 03:01 PM   #15
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The sound of the bullets made me almost jump out of my skin, that poor woman. I was glad I was far enough away I couldn't get a good look, I didn't want to look. I turned my head away and just kept my eyes on the Asian next to me while I listened to what the man, Cooper, said. I'd have to behave myself if I wanted to stay alive. Being cuffed to another person sounded like hell. As much as I wanted to find reassurance in my friend's words, I didn't have much hope.

Fuck. I felt my arm roughly grabbed. My instinct to fight back kicked in and I struggled as he pulled me to my feet before cutting the zip ties around my ankles so I could walk. Damn good thing I never wore heels to the airport.

I saw the gleam in the Asian's eyes before he kicked out at the guard.

"No don't! You heard what he said," I pleaded with him. The guards closed in around him and I was forcibly turned away and towards the door. I saw Cooper going for his side arm and shut my eyes as I was pushed through the door with a middle aged man. This was probably the guy they were going to cuff me to.

I heard the shot, and thought for sure they had killed him. I cried hot tears, I didn't even know his name for God's sake, but it just wasn't right to kill people for no reason!

I heard my name and looked up. A guard was walking towards me with a glint in his eyes.

"Yes?" I managed, but just barely.

He smirked and grabbed my tied hands.

I hadn't even done anything and I was in trouble, just perfect.
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Old 04-08-2014, 06:16 PM   #16
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Serena Michaels 27 years old, standing five one, a mere hundred pounds, she is half Japanese half Irish American, daughter of liberalist James Michaels. She is curvy at the hips with a tiny waist supporting 42DD's. Her ankle length hair is soft lavender to match her oriental kimono that hides her mixed coloring.

Serena is suppose to make the cash drop to some men at the other end of her flight. She thinks it's the people that overtook the flight. Boy, was she wrong again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Serena was being the dutiful daughter once again and eased into her specialty dress. It was beautiful and hide her most hated feature. It was a golden glow kind of color but different and trying to fit into the society that it you don't bear a resemblance to an ancestor meant you were noting to her mother's people.

She agreed to "escort" father's three billion dollars to a group that he made arrangements with in order to overcome bad governing. it was politics she knew but still she went as told.

There was a wide variety of people that were aboard today. Some going to a wedding, some a funeral, and a young couple going to see the famous
crocodile farm.

Serene rose to take her seat and was staring out the window as the other passengers loaded. Serena just drifted into a light sleep by the time they took off for Sydney.

Somewhere in the trip Serena felt as she fell from her seat, was constricted by massive vines, and was fighting to stay alive. it was a recurring nightmare she'd worked thru twice in her young life only difference was she learned to protect herself better while learning to live again.

When Serena woke she was laying on her left side unable to move her hands and feet. Great just great.... ten months of counseling down the drain.

Gathering what courage she could muster she spoke in a calm voice. "How's your father?" She listened for the response and got nothing in return so she listens for a language. Finally she repeats her question in French, Russian, Chinese, Japanese, and German. Still no answer or reply. Serena was about to give up when answers started to surface.

Serena closed off when the man started blowing off. shut up... just shut up or put him out of his misery... however it wasn't the loudmouth it was another person Serena spoke so softly as she shed no tears or screamed from the bullet flying. "Just great Asshole."

Thing kept changing as she was cuffed to the young man going to the crocodile farm. His cheerful voice gone as the events of what was happening continued. Now it was waiting as her partner began snibbling. quickly getting on her nerves til she told him "You won't have to worry about what they'll do cause I'll break your neck for them"
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Old 04-09-2014, 09:04 AM   #17
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Things seemed to be getting progressively worse as time wore on. More and more ofthe passengers were waking up and the fear and panic associated with being captured was starting to set in. The sound of yet another shot ringing out only added to the confusion and tension of the situation.

Randy got up on his knees and tried to look around to see if he could get a grasp on the situation. He could see a group of guards bend and pick up someone and start to cary them off. As the person wailed in pain and wtithed in their grasp, Randy could see that it was the drag queen he had been sitting across from on the plane. He heard Cooper tell his men to take him to B-12, and he continued to wath them as they ascended a set of stairs and then disappeared around a corner out of sight. He watched as a few other men grabbed the curvy redhead that he had noticed when he was first seated on the plane, and escorted her out of the main warehouse as well.

Randy started to wonder what they had in mind. "God" had said that they would all be ushered to rooms with the person they were now paired with, and be "dealt" with accordingly. Randy had never been a captive before, but he had served as a captor a few times while looking for information on a target's whereabouts. He didn't know who or what they were loking for, but the prospect that they were willing to hijack an entire flight full of tourists to find it didn't bode well. Common sense led him to believe that they would go to any length to find information that they wanted, and then they would most likely end up dead.

He looked to the woman that he was secured to, eyeing her carefully, trying to assess her state of mind. She had stopped sobbing and in fact was just sitting there with a blank stare into nothingness. He figured that she was in shock, and he needed to try and get her somewhat focused, if they had any chance of getting out of here.

"Hey!" he harshly whispered in her direction. He took a look around to see if there were any guards close. he didn't want to take a beat down for talking, but he needed to get her to start coming around.

"Hey...what's your name? Mine's Randy." he said studying her face for a reaction.

"Mallory." she said after a short pause. "Mallory White" she added quietly.

"Nice to meet you Mallory. Look, I need to to try and focus ok. I know it's hard and things are really scary right now, but I need you to try and pull it together for a little bit. Do you think you can do that?" Randy asked, hoping that he would be able to snap her out of it .

"I think so...I just." she started. Randy could see the tears welling up in her eyes again.

"I know...I know. Look, they are probably going to be moving us soon, ok. I just need to to try and stay calm, and do what they ask until we can figure out what they want. Ok?" he said in his best soothing tone.

He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. He had never been very good at this kind of thing because he didn't really care about anyone but himself. But he had assumed different roles throughout his career, useing his best acting skills to get close to his targets, so it wasn't completely foreign to him. He took another quick look around before turning back to Mallory.

"Just try to hang in there for a little while ok, everything is gonna be just fine." he said knowing that things would most likely be anything but.
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Old 04-14-2014, 10:51 PM   #18
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Earlier

Leislotte sighed as she sat back in the comfortable airplane seat. It seemed that she had spent more time in the air on various planes then on the ground as of late. Since she had taken the job as the head of InterSec's cyber security division her life had turned into a string of one international flight after the other. Her days were filled with meetings and her nights full of flights or second rate hotels. What free time she had was all but diminished because between appeasing clients, signing contracts, and the actual work itself finding a bit of down time was like looking for a needle in a haystack. But she did love the job, there was no doubt about that. It was a much needed change of pace after the hellish couple of years she had endured at her other job. All the flights weren't that bad either, the travel points were building up quite nicely on her credit cards and she had always loved seeing new places in the world. Sydney, which they were leaving now, had been one of the few places she hadn't traveled to before and she had seen a good deal of it accompanying her client to one business lunch after another over the past 3 days.

Now she was on her way to Tokyo for yet another meeting. She was trying to solidify a full ranged security deal with a technology firm there. She was also hoping that she would be able to find the time to visit her father. The last time she had seen her father was shortly before she had headed off to college. With her gone and her mother dead, her father had moved back to his home country to be with what family he had left. It would be good to see him again as they had always been particularly close, despite her naturally closed of nature. She was still thinking about it as she looked out of the window. The night sky was beautiful and the stars seemed brighter from this altitude. She couldn't help but let her mind wander to the fact that she would need to bleach her hair again. Her roots were showing a good amount of black now. Leislotte uttered a soft yawn as her eyes drifted shut.

Now

Lieslotte awoke in a semi-curled ball on what appeared to be a cold stone floor. She sighed, a lack of surprise registering in her still groggy brain. She shifted slightly, becoming aware of the fact that her hands were bound. "No surprise there" she thought as she uttered as soft yawn. She pushed herself upright her deep olive green eyes scanning about her. There seemed to be quite the number of people detained here, it seemed to be all the other passengers on the plane. That was strange in itself, typically no one took an entire set of plane passengers hostage. But the strangeness only seemed to continue from there as a man and a number of guards entered the room in which they were held. A wry smile curved her lips as she turned her gaze onto the man in charge who announced that he would be referred to as "God".

If she had made a practice of laughing now would have been one of the times that she would have. But not it seemed like a rather inappropriate choice of action so she settled for studying their captors. The guards all seemed well trained but they obviously weren't all from the same place or even the same profession. There was just too much of a difference between them all. As they began to move between the prisoners, plasticuffing them together. The plasticuffs would be a bit uncomfortable inn the long run. They were hard to get out of and would cause some serious cuts and bruises in the process. However the real uncomfortable part would be being cuffed to someone else.

Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse some Asian dude across the isle with over the top rocker hair decided to go commando. It seemed like he managed to break one of the guards knees. Of course all that got him was a bullet in the leg. She sighed closing her eyes.

"How unfortunate..."
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Old 04-14-2014, 11:28 PM   #19
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Copper. His mouth tasted like Copper. He worked his jaw in a circle and tried to separate his arms. Pinch and a whimper. His eyes shot open and he looked down at his hands, they were bound infront of him with plastic zip tie things. What? He groaned and rolled to his side only to hear a woman's voice "Stop stop it hurts! Stop moving!" He rolled back over and leaned up in a sit up position. His legs were hooked with a woman, she had short brown hair that stuck out at random places and her face was covered in tears.

Why was he cuffed to this lady? Who was she? He looked at her more seriously and sighed. "You're the chick sitting behind me." His voice was deep and husky laced with an accent from somewhere away from here. He pulled himself over to the side scooting slowly and she only nodded. He pulled his knees up and rested his elbow on them, his arms were covered in ink, words and script in an unknown language with tribal design lacing around and through the writing and up his neck. That much you could see from under his t-shirt but with the mind you knew it traveled along his chest and back. His knuckles were covered in a word you couldn't really read, the skin so often broken and cracked from hitting them on something here or there.

A man walked in, shooting a lady, speaking, commanding. Oh. They were hostages. Great. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. He flexed his jaw by grinding his teeth together and flexed his arms to stretch them out infront of him. "Anyone else hurt?" He looked around the room then back to the girl next to him, her leg was bleeding, he hadn't checked it out yet, but he could tell she was feeling a bit woozy. He wondered what happened to her to cause that bit of a cut.

There were such an assorted amount of people in this... what was it, a room? He looked around again and then back to the short haired girl... well this sucked.

-------

Jackson is a typical all none american working in a factory hauling steel back and forth man. He's been a welder since the day he can remember and when his parents sent him to the united states from their homeland he didn't attend public school, but homeschool from his 'aunt'. She gave him one name and that's all he knows. He's not the smartest of the human race but he's not stupid either, he's street smart. He's been fighting on the side for extra money, and this is how he got here. He was running away to get some place new and wound up here. He's about 6'4". Weighing in at about 240lbs. Most of it sheer muscle. The perks of hauling steel. Brown hair covers his head and he has a gruffy, now none shaved face.
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Old 04-15-2014, 09:45 AM   #20
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I kept my eyes down as the guard led me to a room, I noted the number and that it was on the A level of the building. He didn't say much but he seemed pretty excited about his "catch".

I stood in the doorway after he closed it behind us trying to control my breathing and not panic. What the HELL was going on here?

He stood behind me and pulled my hair back gently across my shoulder so it laid down my back. I had been growing it out for a couple of months, every time I went to a shoot they put extensions in and I hated the fake hair, if they wanted long hair I would just grow my own.

"My god you are beautiful," his rough voice was calm and I started having a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. I turned my head away from his mouth, which was painfully close to my shoulder. He wasn't very much taller than me but I doubted I could overpower him, unless I somehow managed to get his gun away from him, but i'd likely kill myself in the process.

"How did you know my name?" my voice was quiet, a little shaky.

"How could I not recognize you Ava? I have to admit I have fantasized about meeting you, though not like this," his voice moved away and I looked towards him and surveyed the room.

It looked like one of those interrogation rooms I saw on tv in the cop shows. There was a small table in the middle with a couple of chairs on either side. "My" guard was average in every way, but not unattractive. I was right about his height, he was only about 6', give or take an inch. He didn't have one of those big guns the guards in the main room had, just a pistol on his hip. His uniform fit his body well, he was athletic. My eyes traveled the room again looking for an escape, there was none.

"Come sit down," he said calmly.

I couldn't make my feet move, until we had reached the room he held my arm in his grip and now that he had let go I didn't want to move closer to him.

"Ava, please. Sit," he pulled the chair out and his brown eyes softened. It had to be an act, he was probably a trained killer and going to put a bullet in the back of my head. I bit my lip and a tear rolled down my cheek. I turned my head away.

I was roughly grabbed and I yelped in surprise and fear. He held me by each of my arms and my eyes widened in terror as I looked at his face. His lips were tight, he was probably used to people obeying his commands. I started shaking and he relaxed his grip without letting go.

"Please," I started to beg him before he cut me off.

"Just sit down Ava, I am not going to kill you alright? I just wanna talk, do you understand?"

I nodded and he let go and stood back, his eyes ate up my body the way a wolf looks at his next meal. It made me shiver. I tentatively took a seat in the chair he offered, sitting on the edge away from him as he took the seat next to me. He was sitting sideways so he could look at me and watch me cower.

"God, you're so fucking gorgeous," he whispered as he watched me.

He was very obviously a fan, no doubt one of those guys who jacked off to magazine pictures. I had gotten tons of fan mail in the past, mostly from men praising my body and most admitting to "getting off" to pictures of me. There was a lot of pressure for me to do a Playboy shoot but I hadn't been officially offered anything via my agent so I ignored the rumors. The online community was in an uproar over it, seemed every man wanted naked pictures of me or a sex tape scandal.

"What am I doing here?" I finally asked, tired of his lusting gaze and hoping to get his mind on something else.
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Old 04-17-2014, 10:43 AM   #21
gearhead73
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About ten minutes after the drag queen and the redhead were ushered off, the guards started moving into the crowd of paired passengers. I tall brute of a fellow made a bee line for Randy and Mallory, and with a grunt and slight nod of his head signaled the two to get to their feet. Randy rocket back and startedto stand but was stopped in a bent position by Mallory, who had made no effort to move. Randy took hos free hand and wrapped it around the bicep of the arm that was tethered to him and pulled gently, trying to get her to stand.

"Mallory, c'mon. We have to move." he said in a firm but calm tone.

She looked at him lankly and then at the guard before stirring and scooting her feet back under her so he could help her stand. "Move" the guard said moving his head toward a doorway in the closest wall.

Randy pulled Mallory with him and did as they were instructed. As they walked slowly, he took in everything he could about his surroundings. The composition of the building and doors, the kinds of locks the doors had, anything that could prove useful later when he attempted an escape. He looked at the ceilings for signs of surveilance cameras or motion detectors. He kept track of the were they were going and the numbers of the cells that they passed trying to gauge the size of the structure.

After a short walk down a long corridor, they were pushed into a small room with the marking A-16 above the door. The hallway ended at that room and made a sharp turn to the left toward another hall lined with identical cells. Before the door closed, Randy made a mental note that both the hallway they had walked down and the one turning from it only had cells on their left side. He guessed that this meant that the left wall only served to separate the cell area from the main room that they had woken up in. He took a look around the small roon after the guard locked the door and noticed that there was no window, so he couldn't know if the cell block was on the outside of the structure or not. This meant that escape would have to be through both the building and guards, making it much more difficult. Randy walked along the short walls of the room looking for hidden cameras or microphones and finding none, breathed a small sigh of relief. That would at least mean he could plot his escape in private.
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Old 04-17-2014, 11:42 AM   #22
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Serena's threat helped her "partner" sober up and pay attention to facts. Serena knew that a large portion of the flight would probably die before ransom demands were issued. What Serena needed to accomplish was a plan of action and align herself with survival.

"I've been a hostage before." Serena admitted. "Crying makes you a target for abuse. The more emotional you become adds to the lengths they'll go to get what they want from you."

Serena wondered about the man that fought back. Was he dead or alive? She mentally prayed for his safety and wondered if she could bargain his life to be spared when she delivered the three million. Then she reflected on her bargaining chip, three million could buy lives like several added stipulations prior to the drop.

Serena looked at the guards and started dubbing them with nicknames to help her keep people's faces straight. Using her mind to keep her peace would equal another day alive. It wouldn't be long before her father discovered Serena didn't make her connection in Sydney or make the drop to his middle man.
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