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Due to my writer's block on Runaways, I decided to start another story. Don't worry, I'll finish Runaways once the block's gone. Until then...
Chapter 1- The Sky is Coming Down
Officer Richard Guitierrez was staring out the window of the plane at the night sky, trying to stay awake. He was on what one of the other officers on the plane, Charles Davenport, called "babysitting duty", looking after the three 'passengers' in the back of the plane. There was an unusually tall vixen dressed in a black cloak and jeans, who was wanted for murder; some raccoon guy, a thief; and an eighteen-year-old ferret girl, who had been selling stolen cars.
Guitierrez was twenty-six, a wolf, and one of the best officers in his detachment. When he had gotten the job a few years ago, he hadn't known about the fact that he'd have to be on 10-hour shifts, and having to be stuck in a plane with fat slobs like Davenport. The long hours had made him extremely tired and atypically irritable.
He looked back at the three handcuffed criminals in the back of the plane. The raccoon guy was sleeping; the ferret was looking out the window, trying not to fall asleep; and the vixen was staring right at him.
"What the hell do you want?" he asked, annoyed.
"You're on three hour shifts, correct?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"You've been out here for the last three and a half hours."
"Oh." Guitierrez wondered why she knew this. He got up, and went into the second compartment, where there were two bunk beds built into the walls. Davenport was sprawled on the bottom bunk of the right one, and the officer that had arrested the raccoon was on the top bunk on the left. As far away from Charley as possible.
He went over to Charley and tapped his shoulder. "Hey Charley. Your turn."
He groaned. "Already?"
"Yes."
"Fuck." Charley heaved himself off the bunk. Guitierrez moved to the side to let the overweight wolf by.
Davenport nodded at the vixen officer sleeping on the top bunk. "She looks friggin' hot, don't she? Nice ass."
"Charley..."
"What? I'm right." With that he left, slamming the door.
As Guitierrez climbed up to his bunk above where Charley had been sleeping, he heard the vixen mutter, "Fat idiot."
He looked over his shoulder at her. "Got that right."
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As soon as Guitierrez had left the back of the plane, Katie Levine turned away from the window and started searching the locker under the seat he had been sitting on.
The vixen behind her remained seated. "What are you doing?" she asked. Emotionless.
"Looking for my stuff. MP3 player." Katie mumbled back.
"Do you see anything in there like a weapon? A cane? Or scythe?"
Katie ducked her head inside the locker. "There's a cane."
"Pass it here."
Katie slid the cane across the floor to the cloaked vixen. She slipped it under her robe.
Katie had found her knapsack, and had gotten her MP3 out of the side pocket. She closed the locker, went back to where she had been sitting by the window, and heard someone behind the door to the compartment, swearing.
The door swung open, clanging against the wall, and Davenport stumbled in. Apparently, he wasn't completely awake.
He sat down on the seat where Guitierrez had been, and hit a button on the small intercom pad on the wall next to him.
One of the pilots' voices came out of it. "Yeah?"
Charley grumbled, "Where the hell are we?"
"Right over the Gulf of Mexico. We'll be another, um, four hours until we land."
Charley turned the intercom off. Katie heard him mutter, "Another four hours? Fuck."
She just ignored him, and turned up the volume on her MP3.
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On an island below the plane's flight path, a gunner was waiting in the small outpost tower he'd been living in for the last two weeks, waiting for an order.
He wasn't disappointed.
He picked up the ringing cell phone, flipped it open. "Yes?"
The gravelly voice on the other end said simply, "Get rid of 'em."
The gunner, named Jon Bolden, nodded, said, "Sure." He flipped the phone shut, aimed the AA turret at the plane.
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Guitierrez had nearly fallen asleep when he heard a strange popping, rattling sound from outside the plane. He blinked, shook his head, trying to wake himself up. Then there was a loud boom from the engine on the right wing, and all he saw was black.
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Bolden watched as the plane's right wing exploded, the aircraft spiraling straight down. He heard the sound of crunching, twisting metal, breaking glass, then the night was silent.
His cell phone went off. "Yes?"
The gravelly voice said, "Good job Bolden. You've got a pay raise coming." The line went dead.
Bolden grinned, went back to watching the skies.
And that's the first chapter.