"North Pacific Ocean Flight 119, boarding in one hour..."

The announcement blared through the airport PDA system with a static overtone. An unwelcome reminder to those running late, or trapped in lineups, or otherwise inconvenienced to catching the upcoming flight.

Collin Merriweather wasn't too worried. He'd booked his tickets in advanced and had first class reservations on top of that. His manager had insisted on more theatrical accommodations, however, Collin had always been a frugal soul. First class was already a bit rich for his blood, any more and he'd start to get the urge to punch himself in the face the next time he looked into a mirror.

He walked through the spacious building at a bisque pace, more than eager to get this trip over and done with. Too many sounds, too many people, he felt like he was a hair trigger away from his fight of flight instincts kicking in. One loud object smashing to the ground, some careless stranger brushing against his body, the longer he was here the worse it would get, and the more likely something somehow would set him off.

Just breathe, he told himself. Breathing is the key. Stay calm, stay focused, and stay breathing.

By the time he got in line for the security checkpoint he felt more wound up than a wind-up toy soldier. Being subject to the inane caustic complaints of the other people in line felt like acid being poured into his skull. Whining and moaning about the most harmless of inconveniences. Acting as if some mild interruption by the security personnel around them to take a few concerned questions, or having to wait an extra minute or two for an old man barely supported by a cane to struggle through his turn being checked, was the literal end of the world.

He started rapping his knuckles against his suitcase, focused only on breathing. He zoned out of the world, only shuffling forwards when he felt movement in front of him. Drowning out everything else, he concentrated on himself, only himself. The most subtle movements of his body, his breathing, the sounds of his knuckles against plastic, the feeling of the floor sliding underneath his shoes with every new shuffle forwards, his heart beating as it pumped vitality through every faucet of his being. He was calmed. He was focused. He was content.

And then, like a great wave crashing into a beach after the water receded back, his phone rang, and he felt all those stresses rushing back to him.

Well, at least I didn't flip out this time, he thought as he answered the call.

"Hey, Merry! How's it been!"

Collin heard the heavy, booming voice on the other end clearly enough, despite the shoddy microphone quality of his device. It was the old weathered tones of a lifelong substance abuser aged to decrepitness, filtered through an irksome electrical static'y tang. Bothersome to be sure, yet, Collin Merriweather was more bothered by who the voice belonged to than anything else.

"Hello Uncle," he answered, pitching his voice as calmly as he could. "I have been well."

"Ey, that's great Merry!" he hear the man on the other end answer, "glad to hear ya going up in the world!"

No thanks to you, he thought, taking in a deep, soothing breath. "Why are you calling me?"

"What, an old man can't check in with his favorite slugger?" He heard him reply, "I'm happy for ya. Really. Not many folks from our neck of the woods get to go on TV!"

What's his angle, Collin considered, pausing long enough for the man on the other end to clear his throat in exaggerated manner.

"Err, your connection's good, ain't it? Got no idea how good them cell towers in the airports are these days."

"Airports don't use cell towers anymore." Collin replied, unsure if they ever did. "I appreciate the call. I'm fine. And I'm also in a lineup."

"Ah, I see, afraid of missing yer turn eh? You always were one overcautious little scamp. Hey, I know you don't got too many folks to talk to, so don't be afraid to give me a call back ya hear. You know you can count on your dear old uncle if ya need to."

Ah, I see, he wants to do me a 'favor'. Typical.

"Look. Honestly, I'm just happy you answered fer' once. I worry about you, ya hear. You ain't been acting so hot ever since you started doing them big gigs."

"My business isn't your concern."

"Right, right, I know. Just remember, I'm proud of ya, and if he were still here so would-"

Collin hung up.

This is what I get for not checking caller ID.

"Freeze!" He heard the guards yell as somebody crashed to the floor. For once he was glad for being in a foul mood. If he'd still been jumpy rather than mad, he'd probably have had a panic attack at the thought of somebody pulling a gun anywhere remotely near him.

The lineup quieted, their attention captivated by the scene that Collin too turned his attention towards. A young man with long dark hair in what looked like a designer trench coat. He steadily raised his gloved hands as a pair of security personnel approached him with all due caution.

"Mind telling us what that that knife was doing in your bag?" One of the guards asked.

"An honest mistake. I assure you." The young man replied in a calm voice, more chill than Collin could have managed. "Now that I look at it, it seems I brought the wrong carry-on bag with me. That one I use for hunting trips."

"Yeah, sure," the other guard said. "Any reason we should believe you?"

The man let out a sly little laugh.

"Well, aside from the fact that, if I were planning to do something dastardly with that knife, I'd have hidden it somewhere not immediately obvious during inspection... I also happen to have a fairly exquisite Instagram page."

The two guards looked to each other, before an annoyed woman's voice spoke out from amidst the gathered throngs of onlookers.

"Excuse me! Over here!"

Both guards looked at her as she scrambled to pull out her smartphone, scrolling through it hurriedly, faint whispers of curses barely audible as she tried to pull something up on her device.

"I'm sorry for my idiot fiancée. Look, if you'll just see here..."

It must've taken a good ten minutes before the two guards were satisfied that, just as he'd said, the man had somehow taken the wrong bag with him.

"Alright," one of the pair said. "Next time, be a bit more mindful when rushing to catch a plane. You're lucky just to be put on a watch list for this y'know!"

"I'm sure I am," he said, giving a big wide smile as he saw them confiscate his knife. "Feel free to take it home, I have ten just like that one."

Collin heard a few chuckles around him from that, not that he understood what was so funny about the situation. Without another second spent on further embarrassment the woman grabbed her fiancée's handbag and left in a hurry, the man following behind her, shrugging off the incident with a low yet hearty laugh.

Well, that was far too interesting for my taste. Collin thought as, finally, he made his way to the checking station, throwing his many belongings into the usual plastic tub and walking through the x-ray machine.

As he gathered his items back up, putting his clothes back on, he saw one of the security guards give him a funny look.

"Hey, have I seen you before?" The security officer asked, and Collin nodded.

"Probably. I've been on TV a lot."

"Oh really? What were you on TV for?"

"Professional boxing matches" Collin responded matter of fact, reaching to his wallet and pulling out a paper business card. "I'll ask you not make a scene."

Collin gave the card to the security guard, his eyes going wide as they got a good look at his name and face.

"Holy shit," he said, barely restraining his excitement.

"I get that a lot. Its part of why I try not to stick out when travelling. A hat, scarf and face mask do wonders for anonymity."

Collin paused, taking a moment to grab various clothing items from the tub and put them back on, going as quickly as he could without drawing yet more undesired attention.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"You want me to sign that?"

"It'd be an honor," the guard said as Collin pulled out a pen and whipped it across the business card with a well-practiced flourish.

"Thanks. Can't wait to show my kids this. Hey, just so you know, I'll be tuning in next Saturday. "

"I hope you enjoy the show..." Collin finished, before walking off as quickly as he could without looking like he was trying to escape.

Fans... if they weren't such a handful every time I met one, I'd probably love them.

Still, despite the thought, he did appreciate them all in an abstract sense. He was never the personable sort, he just didn't like those sorts of hyper wide eyed interactions. Yet, he owed so much to folks like that. So he resolved to put in an extra minute or two of practice in that man's honor when he finally landed in Japan.

Finally a fair distance away, he heard that electronically amplified voice boom over the speaker system again.

"North Pacific Ocean Flight 119, boarding in 50 minutes..."

Huh, I'm ten minutes ahead of schedule. Neat. Collin mused cheerfully as he felt his stomach rumbling. Wasting money on overpriced airport fare always stung, but a nice Mediterranean salad never hurt anyone. So, brusquely, he walked over to the least populated corner of the closest decent looking restaurant and ordered himself some good greens and a glass of orange juice to wash it down with.

Waiting... waiting... waiting... this feels so surreal...

Restlessness rattled through him, the professional fighter tapping his fingers against the wooden table he was sat by in his agitation, tuning into its rhythm.

So many fights, so much hardship, and I'm just one flight away from my dream. So why don't I feel better about it?

Collin paid his bill and quickly left, eyes darting to-and-fro for anything to preoccupy his mind.

Dad would be proud. If he knew, he'd have to be proud.

Collin took a seat by the terminal for his flight. Counting down the minutes till it would arrive. Stewing in his thoughts as second-by-second the time to departure grew closer.

Even if he knew everything, even if he saw what I had to do to get here, he'd still be proud...

He wasn't nearly as sure as he'd have liked to be on that last part. It was a practical relief when he heard two overbearing chatty folk sit next to him, pleasantly distracting him from his existential depression with some good old fashioned grating babble.

"I swear, I double checked the bags before we left. What more do you want from me Florence?" Said the man who just sat down next to him in an overbearingly self-assured manner.

Wait a second...

Turning to look at them, he found it incredulous that the same two from the security checkpoint both happened to be taking the same plane as him, and happened to also sit own next to him. If it weren't for the fact that stranger coincidences had happened in his life, he'd have found it more than a little odd. As is, he just sighed as probability pulled a fast one, and steeled himself for his least favorite activity; interacting verbally with another human being.

"You caused quite a scene back there, didn't you?"

The young man in the designer trench coat turned to look at Collin, his fiancée following along with him. His face bore an amused expression as it got a good look of Collin's own, like this additional interruption was a small victory.

The girl, on the other hand, just looked like her blood was about to boil over at having been interrupted. Or perhaps a her fiancée's troublemaking humors having been entertained.

"It happens to the best of us. Something I'm sure you are well aware of, if your choice of getup is any indication. You dress like someone who doesn't want to be recognized, am I right?"

Collin furrowed his brow as he felt the man's gaze peel away at him. His eyes felt like the glare of a raptor circling its prey, looking for every little scrap of knowledge it could glean before it dived in for the kill.

"You have a talent for perceptiveness."

"You have a talent for self-control," the man responded. Collin felt like that comment had him pinned, it seemed phrased to get under his skin, something that wasn't going to happen. Yet, by not registering it as a taunt, he just confirmed the man's assessment of him.

This guy has some keen instincts... Collin observed, looking over to the woman for a way out of the current conversation. "Your beloved has a sharp wit, ma'am."

The tension in her face diffused at that, an embarrassingly hearty fit of uncontrollable laughter washing over the young lady. By the time it had run it's course, tears were streaming down her face, and her demeanor, while still somewhat prickly, felt noticeably warmer to Colling Merriweather.

"Thanks for the laugh, but I wouldn't use the 'L' word between us. We only started seeing each other recently," she clarified, stretching out an arm towards Collin.

"Florence Imran Bennu."

"Collin Merriweather," he responded in kind, shaking her hand.

"You seem a fine woman, I hope you make your husband-to-be happy."

"I just hope he makes me happy... Sigh, honestly, Jonah isn't that bad, he just has a habit of causing scenes when it suits him."

"Guilty as charged. Of course, there's only so much a bored man can do to keep himself entertained. Especially when the entertainment nowadays is so lackluster. I'm sure a man of your profession would agree, Mr. Merriweather?"

Damn. He knowns.

"I suppose if people enjoyed the same sort of stuff people liked a century or so ago, I'd find more luck with my career," he said, hoping to de-escalate. "Of course, time's change. Who wants to see a pay-per-view boxing match when any teen can stream the newest VR fighter LetsPlay onto YouTube for free?"

"Hey, don't act like you're no big deal," he said in an incorrigible manner. Collin couldn't even tell if he was faking it to be a jerk or if he'd become genuinely intrigued.

"You've broken the bones of men with single swift blows. You've spat blood on the floor only to get back up and win it all. You've fought and thrilled yourself in ways most men can barely dream of. In all honesty, I envy you. It must be so glorious to fight to live, and live to fight."

Collin and Florence both didn't have much to say to that. Looking at his face, Collin saw only awe tinged with adoration, with some alien fascination mixed in for good measure. The fact that he couldn't really read this guy sent a shiver down his spine.

"Jonah, you seem like a pretty scary guy..." Collin said flatly, getting a giddy laugh out of the man next to him.

"Coming from a scary guy like you, that's quite the compliment. Thanks! Here I was thinking visiting Everest would be the highlight of my life."

"Everest?" Collin asked, and Florence answered.

"He insisted on it. Not exactly a romantic spot but I have my own interests in the place. And his dad managed to get last minute tickets for peanuts, probably called in a favor with one of his big shot lawyer buddies. Well, in any case, we'll be taking a follow up flight straight to Tibet right after we land. Once that's done, well, it's the top of the world for us!"

"I wish you a pleasant trip."

"I'll take the well wishes and give you a big old thanks for them. Honestly, with the hours I work in the lab this vacation was long overdue."

"Well, that's what happens when you don't treat yourself." Jonah chided her as he got up from his seat. "Your soul gets weighed down by mundanity, and the taste of life starts to grow bland on your tongue. If you don't switch things up, add a punch of excitement, the world turns to a tasteless grey sludge."

"You make it sound awful Jonah. It isn't quite that bad y'know?" Florence protested as he walked away from the two.

"You're right, dear. It's far worse. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I need to freshen up," he said as he started walking in the direction of the washrooms.

So the two sat back, chatting with one another, whittling away the time till the flight minute by minute...