"OH MY GOD! IT'S PERFECT!"
"Heh, it's pretty nice."
"It's a jet."
Malincha stood in front of the small private jet, which was a polished jet-black color. Her mouth hung open in awe, and almost immediately after laying eyes onto it, she ran towards it and embraced it in an awkward hug. "This is going to be perfect for my blog!"
"You, idiot, if you've been blogging this whole time that'll just make it easier for them to find us." Shen looked over the private jet, obviously unimpressed, though to be fair he was hardly impressed by anything. Malincha pulled back from the plane and turned to Shen.
"Calm down, it's private! I'm not going to make it public until this crap is over and I rent a nice house out in California. Maybe I'll make it a book..." She tapped her chin in thought.
"Shen, you don't seem very impressed, have you ridden a private jet before?" Banjo asked, and Shen turned his gaze over to Banjo.
"No. I'm actually...more on the disappointed side." Shen answered, and Banjo gasped, taking a few steps forward before turning around so that his back was turned to the jet, and spread his hands.
"C'mon, it's a private jet, what the hell do you mean you're not impressed?" He waved his hands frantically to push forward his point, and Shen stared blankly, as per usual.
"But you're rich. Logically, a jet of this size isn't all that impressive for what you make." Shen walked past Banjo and over to the flight crew, all tall figures wearing uniforms that were dark blue and back. The pilot stepped forward, smiling at the group.
"Nice to meet you all! You're Banjo Adeoye, Shen Kou, and Malincha, right?" The pilot asked, and the three nodded. "I'll be your pilot for this flight, my name's Miguel. Now y-"
"Hold up." One of the flight attendants, a middle-aged lady who was the tallest of the group stepped forward, squinting. "Uh..wasn't there supposed to be four of you? Unless you're fourth member is invisible or something."
"You must mean Pan! The thing is the little feller is terrified of flights!" Banjo grinned at the flight attendant, who nodded her head.
A small smile crept across Malincha's face. "Yeah, when we suggested the idea of taking a flight across South America, he pissed his pants. And he rolled around in the puddle of piss-" She broke into hysterical giggles, and Banjo shook his head, chuckling.
"I see...well then, I suppose we can take care of that later, come on in!" Miguel pressed a button on the remote in his gloved hand, and the entrance, and a small flight of stairs leading to the entrance unfolded.
"Ooo.." Malincha pulled out her phone as she walked over to the jet and placed her hand onto the tall flight attendant's shoulder. "Do you mind?" She gestured to her phone, and the flight attendant laughed, waving her hand.
"Go ahead, take all the pictures you want! I know that this is a once in a lifetime experience, so go crazy." The flight attendant responded, and Malincha smiled, before pointing her phone at the jet and taking a flurry of pictures.
Shen, meanwhile, was incredibly close to the jet, inspecting the paint job with his hand, which seemed incredibly...recent. It smelled of paint, fresh paint, which meant that it had been painted over fairly recently. "Interesting..."
Banjo walked past the two, and headed up the flight of stairs, taking a look around the private jet. It was rather dark inside, yet as he stepped inside, a few lights turned on, and he walked over to the chair at the back, sliding into it and getting himself comfortable. He stretched, yawned, and then put his hands behind his head.
Shen and Malincha headed in shortly after, and Shen immediately headed over to the restroom, trying to open it, and found that it was locked. Turning to the nearest flight attendant, he pointed to the door. "Why is this locked?"
"Ah, the bathroom is out of order, sorry." The flight attendant put her hands together and ducked slightly, sighing. "I'm sorry, I know it's inconvenient."
"Well, I guess that new paint job was worth it, hm?" Shen replied, and walked past the flight attendant who was left standing there, an incredibly confused expression plastered across her face as he tried to figure out if Shen's comment was an insult or not (Shen's blank, malice free tone made it hard to tell).
Shen settled into a seat, taking a sip from his water, and Malincha took pictures of the airplane food, featuring plantain chips and mandocas. As the three settled in their seats, preparing themselves for the flight to come, after several minutes, the jet took off.
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As the jet soared through the air, Malincha peered through the window, watching the clouds dance in the bright blue sky. Shen was flipping through a mysterious book, with an owl carrying an apple in its mouth on the cover, and Banjo was fast asleep, snoring quietly.
As the three sat, completely wrapped up in whatever they were doing, the very back door, leading to the bathroom opened up, and silently, several menacing individual wearing suits streamed out. They all had X-shaped scars on the right sides of their foreheads, and all carried handguns.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
In a matter of seconds, they had strolled up to all three of the passengers, and pointed their guns, firmly pressing them against the heads of the three.
"Give up now, we have you cornered." The leader was the last to stroll out of the rest room, smiling faintly, before tracing his scar with his thumb. "It's over, Banjo." He pressed his gun against Banjo's head, who opened his eyes, staring forward without any sort of fear.
Malincha's eyes were narrowed, and Shen seemed completely calm as per usual, although there was a bit of worry in his tone as we spoke. "...Do we surrender?"
"Yes, we surrender." Banjo slowly raised his hands nonchalantly and Malincha, and then Shen followed suit. The leader grinned, and then turned over to the pilot.
"Ay, we got them all captured now! Fly us back to the contractor, and we'll drop these idiots off." The man chuckled, now shoving Banjo's head repeatedly with the barrel of gun. "What a complete-"
"Hold it." Banjo said to the pilot, who was just about to change the destination of the jet. The leader glared down at Banjo and fingered the trigger.
"What the hell are you talking about? You think you can do something?" He continued to shove Banjo's head mockingly. "What do you think you can do in this situation, tough guy. Once we tie you up are you going to chew yourself free from your chains like rats?" His men stifled chuckles.
"No." Banjo smiled up at the man. "I'm not going to do anything. Nor Shen. Nor Malincha. You see, you can only turn this flight around until you have all four of us captured."
"...Wha-" The leader was interrupted before he could say anymore, and one of the glass windows of the jet was suddenly shattered, fragments of glass flying around the speeding jet, as wind rushed in, blowing the hair and clothes of the people inside intensely. Pan shot in through the window panel, and the quickly adapting mercenaries started to fire at Pan, firing bullet after bullet at the boy, who shot through the jet, avoiding the bullets with grace and ease.
As he sped through the jet, he jumped above a man firing at him, and whilst landing behind him, grabbed the man by the back of his shirt, and slammed the man's body against the window, breaking it open, before jumping out the window once again, and climbing on to the top of the plane.
The mercenaries stood there in shock, trying to figure out what had just transpired in the recent few seconds. Shen shook his head, slightly smiling, and Malincha giggled. The mercenaries turned towards their leader, who seemed equally shocked, his long black hair blowing wildly in the wind. He turned towards one of the broken windows and narrowed his eyes.
"Keep them alive, we can't kill them. I'll find that kid and beat the crap out of him, until he really does piss himself and roll in it. Got that?" The man tightened his fist, and the mercenaries nodded their head. The man then leaped through the broken window, swinging himself onto the top of the jet, and found himself face to face with Pan.
Pan sat on top of the beaten body of the man he had dragged out of the window, swinging his legs as he smiled cockily at the man. "I didn't think you had the balls to climb up here. Good, dragging you out here would be a pain."
The man whipped out his handgun, obviously not wanting to indulge in chat with Pan, and shot at him several times, and Pan held out his palms, spreading his fingers, and then closing his fingers together, trapping every single bullet the man had fired in between his fingers.
"This'll be too easy if I try though. Wait, hey, you know how to play football, right?" Pan grinned at the man, who wiped the drop of sweat rolling down his forehead, becoming increasingly nervous.
"It's kind of fun. The rule is you can't use your hands, only your legs. Our bodies will be the goals, meaning every bullet that hits your body is one point for me!" Pan now tossed the bullets up into the air, and leaped, sweeping his leg forward towards the bullets with enough force to send them ripping through the wind, towards the Man, who barely managed to swerve to the side, avoiding them.
The man charged Pan, and swiftly pulled out a combat knife, before thrusting it towards Pan several times, and Pan in response, swiftly avoided each thrust, still deciding not to use his hands. "Hey, you're cheating~" Pan mocked the man. "No hands allowed, remember?" Pan lifted his leg up, and swiftly preformed a barrage of kicks, sending the man, who guarded with his knife, flying down, and almost off, the jet.
"You cocky brat!" The man, after regaining his balance shot forward again, and out of pure anger, sliced the blade at Pan several times, alternating between slashes and thrusts, leaving Pan no time for any sort of counterattack, until-
The blade was thrusted towards Pan's heart, and the knife sunk into his chest neatly. The man was left panting, completely exhausted, yet triumphant, as he stared at Pan in the eyes, who looked absolutely shocked.
"You wanna play football?" He pulled the knife out of Pan's chest and then stabbed it into his stomach, then reverse kicked the boy in the stomach, sending him skidding down the jet. "GOAL!" He chuckled, before taking a few steps towards Pan's still body.
As he proceeded to get closer and closer to the body...it started to glitch, and fade, before slowly becoming transparent. All that was left in its place was a cracked mirror, and the man took a step back, completely bewildered. "What the fuck is going on?"
The man, panting heavily, took a few steps towards the mirror and then bent down, picking the mirror up, and inspecting the crack running through it. In his reflection, he could see Pan, behind him, holding a locket in his hand, and swinging it playfully.
"Is this yours, mister?" Pan asked in an innocent voice, and the man attempted to lunge forward, but fell flat on his face, completely exhausted.
"I guess, considering the work you do, you like a little something to remind you of home?" He opened up the locket, and inside was a picture of the man's family. "But that weakness is going to be your downfall." He pulled the picture out of the locket, and then tossed the locket onto the man's head.
"Catalina. Olivia. Nulpi. Silvaine. Benjamin. Santino. Valentino. Do the names ring a bell?" He grinned down at the man, who lifted his head weakly, and all he could muster was a nasty glare.
Pan reached for the man's mouth and opened it and closed it to make it seem like the man was talking as he imitated the man's deep voice. "Yes, Uncle Pan! These are my family members, please don't kill them! I'll do anything!" Pan grinned sinisterly down at the man, who looked completely hopeless.
"Anything, you say?" Pan said in a completely normal tone. "Order your men to stand down and tell the pilot to keep flying us towards our destination. Do that, and I'll let em live. Easy, hm?" Pan patted the man's head roughly, before picking him up by his hair, and glaring at him in the eyes. "Do it."
The man looked at Pan in the eyes and shuddered, and in that moment, Pan's red pupils seemed more like a pool of blood, submerging his entire soul. "...Stand down. Proceed to Argentina as if nothing happened. Don't...argue." The man muttered into his earpiece.
"Good. Very good." Pan stood up, and started to walk off...but stopped just before climbing back into the broken window. Laughing, he turned, and glanced at the man out of the corner of his eyes. Pan walked towards the man, and in Pan's eyes, the man could see a reflection of his future, his body, spiralling down at terrifying speeds towards the hard ground below.