The passengers sleep on the rest of the passage even when landing to refuel, all except for a teddy bear who kept watch over his girl and record the student’s movement and actions. A neat file was being created for his girl to study and watch later. Thusly so, it would become far easier for his girl to identify who were the truly dangerous players among the students and react accordingly.

However, mid-flight, #017 suddenly wakes up and heads to the bathroom. Mr. Wilkins warily remains in his seat waiting expectantly for the events that will shortly transpire in the lavatory. The perpetrator, a man had waited until mid-flight, before acting. Despite, the lavatories always being checked before takeoff, this time around someone had purposefully forgotten too.

The gunmen peek through the crack in the doorway, before slowly emerging at seeing the coast was clear. With half of his body out of the lavatory, suddenly a painful force slams the door shut. Muffling a scream, he hears a loud crack coming from his chest area. As a direct consequence, his hand loosens its grip on his firearm and it falls with a loud clatter onto the tiny bathroom floor.

The gunman lets out a hiss of pain and stumbles backward clutching his ribs. The gunman rapidly blinks to clear his vision, all the while reaching for his handgun on the floor. The door soundlessly swings open and before the gunman can react, the sole of a combat boot slams into his hand effortlessly crushing his fingers against the floor.

  The gunman makes a muffled scream in the back of his throat as he falls back against the bathroom wall. The owner of the combat boot slithers into the lavatory and firmly locks the door behind them. Sweat drips down his face as the gunman clutches his broken hand to his chest and studies the figure standing scare inches apart from him.

“Who the hell are you?” The gunman whispered. Reaching for the switchblade at his waist.

The gray-haired female student doesn’t react and instead grabs a handful of hand towels. The gunman opens mouth to speak when a wad of hand towels is stuffed into his mouth. Unable to breathe, he struggles to free himself but finds himself with his back against the sink. The female student slides onto the sink counter in a sitting position and snakes her hands around that of the gunman’s neck.

The gunman slams his body backward, but the firm neck hold only tightens around his neck. The gunman finally spits out the wad of towels in his mouth as his vision becomes full of fuzzy dots. He struggles to move, but with each struggle, he is unable to breathe as his struggles only grow weaker and weaker.

The gunman bitterly curses his acceptance of this mission. And with those final thoughts in mind, the gunman’s body becomes limp. #017 slowly eases the body down onto the toilet seat, before rummaging through the unconscious gunman’s body. She finds bullets for the handgun, various knives, and a burner phone.

#017 tosses the bullets into the trash bin, before pondering on how to get rid of the body. Breaking the body into joints would be the easiest, but first, she had to bleed out the body. #017 removes the man’s outer coat and clothing, before adjusting the mask onto her face. The coat neatly covers her entire body as does the mask.

With care, #017 removes the undershirt, socks, leaving the unconscious muscled man in his boxer only. She removes the shoelaces from the boots, before placing the boots into the trash bin. She then carefully lays the socks on the ground and other used clothing on the floor.

Much like holding a pig’s head, #017 maneuvers the gunman’s body forward and slits his throat over the sink. She lets the blood drain out of the neck, before maneuvering the body in an upward position and leaning the body itself against the sink. It wouldn’t be the best way to drain a body of blood, but it would get the job done.

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 #017 patiently waits for the body to slowly drain itself. To pass the time, #017 dials the single number on the burner phone. After several calls, a male voice picks up. “This is Adolf, what do you need?”

 #017 memorizes the number and the male voice as the man known as Adolf says, “What do you want?” At a lack of response, the Adolf hisses, “Is this another stick-up? We already agreed on the payment terms and forwarded half of the payment. We will not be negotiating for more!” #017 hangs up the phone and flushes it down the toilet.          

The blood flow ceases to flow down to a trickle of drips. #017 firmly wraps her hand around the neck of the corpse and twists the neck several times as loud cracks are heard. She continues to do so until the spine fully tears away from the neck. Satisfied, #017 use one of the gunman’s knives to cut into the flesh starting from the throat of the neck to the jawline of the back of the skull. The muscle and ligaments easily tear away at the tears and through the break in the spinal cord.

The head cleanly tears away from the corpse to the great satisfaction of #17. Grabbing a corner of the hand paper, #017 expertly pulls and neatly wraps the head in drying paper. Satisfied, she pushes the head deep into the paper waste can and covers the gunman’s decapitated head.

  #017 methodically at this point covers the floor in paper towels and begins the grueling process of breaking the body down with the tools at hand. First, she proceeds to break the ribs with a few well-placed stomps to the chest and then continues onto the joints of the body. Finished, #017 ties the lower body down and cuts open the corpse and removes all internal organs and disposes of them down the toilet.

 Having disposed of the internal organ, #017 begins to remove the already broken bones and crushes them further under her foot, before tossing the smaller broken bones into the toilet. #017 turns her attention to the broken joints of the arms and cuts right under the armpit and tearing through easily through the flesh and ligaments at the break in the bones at the joint shoulder.

With the arm now removed, #017 breaks the hands into smaller pieces at the joint breaks. The elbow, and then at the wrist. The hand is easy to chop further apart with a simple stomp and chopping at the finger breaks. The most complicated parts still left are the upper arms and lower arms. However, that was easily fixed by separating the flesh from the bone. The flesh was cut into smaller pieces and the bones were broken even further.

A firm knock at the door interrupts #017. “Are you alright hon, you’ve been in the bathroom an awfully long time?” The muffled voice of a concerned flight attendant said through the door.

 “I just ate something bad, I’ll come out when I feel better,” #017 replied.

 “Okay. But just shout if you need anything,” the flight attendant reluctantly said, before moving way.

 #017 returns to her work and continues to work on the legs via the same way as the arms. Finished, #017 lets out a tired sigh and stretches her body. #017 then returns to the most difficult part yet, the halving of the Carcass. The upper torso had already been broken down the upper and now it was merely a matter of removing flesh and repeating the same tedious process again. However, the pelvis and lower area are a bit more difficult to break and more force would be needed to do.

 #017 sighs in annoyance, still unable to finish. She should be sleeping on the flight instead of working. And yet here she was, was the idle thought in her mind.

Without further hesitation, #017 proceeds to thoroughly dance across the corpse. The lower body takes a bit more time to break but wasn’t too bad. With the process finished, the other steps were once more repeated.

With relief, #017 proceeds to clean up the lavatory as best as she can, all the while knowing she wouldn’t be as thorough as she would have liked given the lack of proper tools. Finished, she wipes the soles of her boots clean and removes the blood splattered coat and mask. #017 firmly pushes them to the bottom of the trash bin, before thoroughly locking the bathroom door behind her.

#017 returns to her seat as if nothing had happened and buckles her seatbelt. The students are still sound asleep and none had noticed her return or much less missed her. “That was messy,” Mr. Wilkins grumbled.

 “Yes, but it was the best I could do given the circumstances,” #017 muttered as she closed her eyes to sleep.

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Wilkins said reassuringly. With a bit of care, Mr. Wilkins sent out a few nanobots from his body to thoroughly creep under the door and clean after his girl. It wasn’t too difficult, but sadly, even he couldn’t do much about the gunman’s head. Satisfied, his nanobots return to his body as his girl sleeps soundly. And with a great deal of satisfaction, Mr. Wilkins returns to his previous actions of watching over his girl and studying the sleeping passengers on board.