(A/N): This is purely meant as a work of comic humor and fanfiction. It is not intended to offend or impugne the writing skills of any of my fellow writers. It is simply my take on how I would like to voice my own God-given right to an opinion.

Commandments: Thou shalt not review me with an unfounded flame. Thou shalt not take this fic seriously. Thou shalt laugh, or thou shalt just not read it. I'm going to continue it with or without you anyway.

Session One: Ready For Take-Off

"Good evening, ladies…and one gentleman. Welcome to Fresh Air flight 1019, red eye out of Houston to Miami. Please take your seats and buckle in; your captain will address you shortly."

Endless chatter rose up again from the virtually all-female group that was seated in the coach section of the plane. They all seemed to be discussing the same topic, deviating only from their favorite romantic pairing to comment about the single male occupant of the flight.

"You think someone tried to do a slash OC?" one, a brunette, commented.

"I don't know. He's kind of cute, though. Wonder why he's here," her fellow passenger returned, flipping back her own brown hair and craning her neck to get a good look at him.

The boy, in his late teens as it were, was raven-haired, green-eyed and scowling. He also was covered in almost-healed long, clean scars, including a long, thick one just under his right jaw-line. It looked as if someone had once tried to slit his throat. The girl who was lucky enough to sit next to him was trying to make conversation, but he was remaining gruff and reserved. Finally she gave up and turned to the woman who sat across the aisle in the center section.

"So what are the chances we'd all get these awesome tickets? I mean, I'm saving mine. The coincidence is just amazing!" she raved.

"I'm getting my ticket laminated," the other girl boasted.

"I'm getting mine framed!" a third chimed in.

A couple near the front were whispering. They were trying to sneak peeks into the First Class section to see if anyone was lucky enough to have been bumped up there.

"I can see someone. There's definitely someone in one of the seats," one muttered.

"Yeah. The stewardess is talking to them. Can you see if it's a man or a woman?"

"No, I can't see anything."

The plane began to taxi for the runway. Everyone buckled up and readied for takeoff. Soon they were in the air and cruising at 35,000 feet. Chatter resumed when the ascent stopped.

Suddenly the captain came over the loudspeaker and everyone hushed up. "GOOD EVENING, LADIES AND SINGLE GENTLEMAN. I AM YOUR CAPTAIN AND WILL BE THE IRREFUTABLE VOICE OF REASON ON THIS FLIGHT. SHOULD THINGS GET OUT OF HAND, WE DO HAVE A LARGE STOCK OF PARACHUTES AND ANY SHENANIGANS WILL BE DEALT WITH BY A SWIFT BACKPACKING AND A KICK OUT THE AIRLOCK. THAT SAID, I'LL LET YOUR CO-PILOT COME OUT AND GIVE YOU THE REAL INTRODUCTIONS."

While the passengers puzzled this statement, a woman in pilot's garb appeared out of the cockpit and stood behind a small podium that had been placed in the empty space in the front of the cabin. She smiled warmly and waved to get everyone's attention.

"Well, hello everyone. It's good to see you're all here; it would have been a shame if someone had missed the flight. I promise it will be very enlightening.

"My name is Co-Pilot Beebop, or Miss Maya if you want to be less formal. I'll be serving as the mediator on today's instructional flight."

A hand shot up in the back. Slightly irked that she was already being interrupted, Miss Maya nodded to it. "Yes?"

The owner of the offending hand sat up as best she could. "Yeah, why can't we unbuckle ourselves?"

Miss Maya smirked. "It's for our passengers' protection."

"What? How do you expect us to go to the bathroom?"

"Not your protection. The other passengers'. We wouldn't want anyone getting hurt, so we need you to remain in your seats."

"Who else is on the plane?"

"If you'd let me start my speech, you'd find out, wouldn't you?" Miss Maya snapped, and the girl shut up.

"You're not on this flight to learn anything new or to get an opportunity to meet with people you most likely want to meet. Excuse me, let me rephrase that: person you most likely want to meet. You are on this flight simply to be told the simple facts of certain matters by those involved. How you deal with it is your own cross to bear.

"With that, I'll open the stand to questions-…" She saw about fifty hands in the air. "…-That do not concern who else is on this plane just yet."

Ninety percent of the hands went down. About four remained up. She gestured to one.

The woman cocked her head. "Why do we all look the same?"

"Well," Miss Maya shrugged. "It's your own fault for not coming up with anything else to look like. If you want to impersonate Lisa Reisert, who am I to stop you? You're welcome to look like your creators if you wish."

This was met with some approval, and some confusion. The next girl to ask a question was less delicate. "Who's the dude?"

Miss Maya looked to the boy with a knowing smile, and he glanced back with a look of pure loathing.

"Him? He's my son…in a manner of speaking. And he's not too happy with me, as well he shouldn't be. It is my fault for putting him through an awful lot. Any other questions?"

There were none.

"Alright then. Now I'm going to bring out our guest of honor, and there will be no screaming, shrieking, crying, cheering, mooning, flashing, sighing, or attempts to woo at all, or the session will end immediately. Understood?"

There was utter silence as the girls nodded softly.

"Alright." Miss Maya walked over to the velvet curtain that separated the first class cabin from coach. As she pulled it aside, a figure walked through. As promised, there was no screaming, shrieking, crying, cheering, mooning, flashing, sighing, or attempts to woo, but there was an audible gasp and sigh of pure fangirly delight.

Jackson Rippner took the stand.

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