The original Red Eye storyline belongs to Wes Craven and DreamWorks, and so forth. But still, enjoy the short drabble series, and read and review. Thanks!
"Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival."
–Winston Churchill
Between Jack and Leese (Reunited): Part I
4:07a.m. At the Condo. And on edge.
Lisa stood planted at the end of her kitchen counter, a small chefs' blade clutched in her hand. It had been the closest tool of defense in reach during the moment which he had stepped towards her. The nearest telephone receiver however, was under his hand. Contacting the authorities would be somewhat of a challenge.
Jackson raised his free hand before him in a coaxing, persuading gesture, "I'm not here to harm you."
Lisa's exterior reflected aching skepticism, and her tone was rather soft, but yet very biting, "Oh, no?"
"No, I'm here to inform you," he rasped with a strict clearing of his throat. "In fact, I have a proposal for you to consider."
Lisa took one side minute to dwell on his voice. His pitch sounded coarser, (a bit scratchy), than she had remembered. It would appear as if the damage she'd inflicted to his vocal cords had healed decently enough—but there was certainly an aftertaste of the pen's puncture, which evidently, seemed permanent.
Lisa would've been proud of herself, if only he hadn't been able to escape to deliberately seek her out again.
"Of what exactly, Jack?" she dared to inquire further. "That you have one of your dogs keeping tabs on my only cousin as he's covertly parked outside her house in Boston, and if I don't do as you wish, you'll call him to attack her this time?"
"On the contrary, my...dogs are not that loyal to me any longer. They are currently my main problem."
Lisa hadn't exactly been expecting to hear that. "Are you saying…that they didn't help you get out…at all?"
So, he was currently a one-man show. Huh.
"Just because I've been locked up for the past three years, doesn't mean that my—talents—had instantaneously soared out the window, Leese."
"So, what the hell do you want with me this time?"
"I need your help."
"Ha!" she hissed, "Don't make me laugh."
Jackson had responded straightforwardly, and she wasn't buying it. Not again.
"You know at least one basic thing about me, Leese," he insisted. "I never lie...I've even said we would talk again, recall it? And here we are."
Down the Rabbit's Hole (What a Curious Land): Part II
12:09p.m. On the run, one week following. The war's begun.
This kind of lifestyle was broadcasted by Hollywood constantly. The leading character was plopped into an unpleasant situation at the most unfortunate timing, and their world turns upside down as they attempt to endure the consequences.
See, since Jack failed the Keefe assassination, his guys a.k.a dogs, were after him. He had known if he didn't escape the ward, they would have found a special way to get in with the aim of punishing him—in some fatal fashion or another.
Plus since Lisa had knowledge of their company's existence, their personal occupational objectives, and had a link to one of their top members—the dogs were specifically after her these days as well. In addition to all the above, she had killed one of their best dogs at her father's home.
And within the beautiful, mad mind of Jackson Rippner, he imagined that more strength was found in numbers. The two of them could support each other, aid one another to persist—
Jackson even offered he would do all of the dirty work. "I'll put a dog or two to sleep on the way if it's completely necessary," he had promised her. Oh gee, how very kind of him to do so.
All Lisa would have to do in return, was gather any amount of cash, (and clothes, and the food) that she could manage in order to finance and fund their "getaway trip."
The dogs wanted them dead. But, to live, Jack and Lisa knew they needed the dogs dead in their place. Yes, Lisa had agreed to it. Grudgingly she did so, but she agreed nonetheless.
At last, Lisa was now in deeper with him then she had been upon the Red Eye flight; that much was for certain. She had been totally pulled down into Jackson's world of backstreet transactions to receive the "appropriate supplies," one-minute limit phone calls to remain discreet, the constant need to use cash in place of credit while checking into motels and diners, and of course, to be familiarized with the side-necessities such as using code words and phrases before bystanders in public.
Lisa also felt as if it was up to her to figurate a cover story. To construct a web of fibs to tell Cynthia and the rest of the hotel's staff, and to her father, as to why they wouldn't hear from her for a while. But Jack had been okay with this, since according to him, she was a born deceiver. According to him, she could lie before them to her heart's content. Because he claimed that he would never view her as an honest person.
Jack... She began to marvel why he'd ever introduced himself to her by his given name in the first place. Was it a name he assembled to match his initials to her father's just to snatch his wallet? (Or was it actually because he despised lies, no matter how small and light the lies were?)
The more Lisa thought about the idea though, the more she thought how disorganized and carless a underground assassin would really have to be to give out their actual name.
He wasn't the man he seemed to be to begin with.
Was Jackson...truly Jackson?
Curiouser and curiouser.
Levels of Cruelty and Crime: Part III
1:10p.m. Within another week or so. Riding a subway.
Facing her while the contraption sped down the track, standing close together to avoid unwanted attention, Jackson's eyes had instinctively flickered down the line of her blouse's collar. Right to the spot where he had once discovered her horrid scar. "Do not compare me to him, Leese…I was still brought up and I was trained to never sink to that vile level. There's a very heavy line between my kind and his."
Lisa looked him in the eye, and by now she had grown all-too-accustomed with his ice blue stare to feel panicked when standing beneath it any longer. "Trust me, Jack, I clearly recognize that you stand on an entirely different vile level."
"But then, I am curious why you won't fight me now, Leese. Why not desperately try to contact the police like before...?"
He said this because he remembered what she told him on the plane when it had landed in Miami. She wasn't going to let anything happen to her again. And by the heated scuffle she started with him inside her father's house had only proven she was through with being a pushover.
However—from the night they both had fled her condo, up until this warm windy afternoon in London, she had behaved herself—Lisa listened to his little bits of advice on to stay low when going to the market for morning coffee essentially. And she had even allowed him to demonstrate to her how to handle various types of weaponry in case of an emergency. Lisa, all in all, had been unexpectedly accepting and tolerant of their situation, jumping place to place, and so forth.
"Because, you basically ruined my life...or the life I was trying to improve on...I still deserve to build that life for myself," she began evenly. "And I am determined and willing to do anything to get this entire thing involving you over with, so that you will be out of my life afterwards. For good this time."
Besides, she was beyond the point of no return (to turn towards any braches of authority, at least.) She wanted no fame or hero label, no reward sum. And a chain of court room trials and giving more chances for the public to pressure her into an interview on television just sounded like one horrible headache to occur. She had enough of the local Press trailing her, following the events of the Red Eye.
So...Lisa had a little fight left in her after all, he noted.
He didn't let her announcement offend him; it simply wasn't worth his valuable time to do the opposite now. Instead, he praised her for it. "That's very respectable thinking on your part, Leese."
She knew what she wanted, so she'd fight to obtain it, or die trying.
Ah, what stubbornness. She was a true redhead to say the least.
And she wanted to win just as much as he did. Lisa wasn't ready to die...not by the hands of these villains. And he still wasn't suicidal enough to just give in. That's how he was taught. He wasn't supposed to give up. Just do the job he had to, get it done, and then move on. Period.
Without knowing the state of victory, there'd be no knowing of state of prevailing.
The Italian Riviera (Cats and Dogs): Part IV
5:45p.m. A careful stroll near sunset.
Lisa always had fantasized of traveling worldwide, especially to the olden and romantic region of Italy alike the "average American woman" did. But she did not always anticipate that she would be roaming the streets of the fiercely charming seaside village, Italian Riviera—while undercover—with Jack the Ripper Reincarnated, of all people.
Backs pressed to the gravel wall, Jackson and Lisa inched their way through the narrow alleys until they reached the next corner. Lisa glanced behind. It was clear. She had gained the habit of watching Jackson's back when he had to keep his eyes forward for the sake of things.
Lisa mused as they crept farther down the neighboring streets like a pair of stray cats. And it was a pun that fitted them nicely.
Dogs were stronger, and typically possessed more pack members. Dogs relied on the asset of their pack to take out their prey. Dogs were always after a cat (or two.)
And the problem was, Jack had mentioned, they were dealing with a pretty large pack that obviously no longer answered to their initial master's (his) voice.
Meaning that, its current rouge members could very well be on the hunt anywhere. Or everywhere.
It was a malicious cycle. It was a circling chase of each other's tails.
Although, they made it this far. Dogs may outnumber them, but cats became more flexible with thier little amount, and with their surroundings.
As of now: Cats were yet at 2. Dogs were down by 4.
Psychology Studies: Part V
7:23p.m. Just fled Italy. Back on a random road for now.
It was funny. At times, it was moderately frightening.
Jackson and Lisa hadn't really known each other that well. Not really. The first time they'd met in person (well, the first time Lisa had met Jack)...the majority of the plane ride had been taken up by their battle of wits and willpower. But as common people, they didn't know each other.
Sure, they each figured out a secret here and there, although Jackson and Lisa were clueless when it came to the other's pasts, their childhood, or their previous schooling...
However, it was almost comical when Lisa, or Jack in contrast, paid closer attention to it.
After sharing motel rooms, café tables, and occasionally van or car for the last month or so...spending more time together in general...subtle behaviors began to grow more vibrant than before. Lisa eventually realized Jackson preferred Blues music over other genres. Because, every time they were forced to steal a vehicle, that was what he tuned into if the connection was decent.
Jackson started to notice whenever he chose to address her as Lisa, she responded with Jackson. Whenever he called her Leese, she tended to mock him with Jack. If he caught himself ordering her around—like a parent to a child—she became more moody. Difficult. If he steadily requested her to do something beneficial for the circumstance—like partners on a task—she would still huff, but she obliged.
Guaranteed Jackson wasn't the quite easiest person to read. He was in any case, "trained" to put up a front, right? He altered his attitude depending on the person he interacted with. Though Lisa picked up on a few characteristics Jackson held—besides the irritating impatience, the minor arrogance, and the sporadic viciousness. Perchance was that one reason he was so aggravated on the plane...? He had hated that her grandmother had died, and that she left on such short notice. (He had been apparently on schedule before that happened.) He was forced to follow her into a very closed-in environment that had made him think outside of his routine, outside of the box. His temper had been practically childlike. But she was fairly amazed how cautious he could be while on the run. Or just in general. While sitting at a corner table in a restaurant, or at the very end of a dim-lighted bar, his eyes would never stay in one place for too long. She would peek at him every now and then. Jackson focused on everyone and every last detail. His chilling eyes darted to the main entrance to the vacant side doors, then to the few widows upon the walls. He was continuously trying to study the inner soul, or formulating a strategy.
If Lisa stood from her chair, he would look at up her. If she would claim she was only going to the restroom, Jackson would say, "Okay, I trust you," and went back to reading.
Whenever he had to part from their rental room for a time hence whatever reasons, he called out to her that he would be back. And Lisa would nod, showing that she believed him.
Jackson never had really done anything about it, since he didn't know what he wanted to do about it precisely. Lisa had this habit of waking in the middle of the night in the bed parallel to his. He heard her every move—in his line of work, it caused one to become a really light, sensitive sleeper—though he always pretended to slumber on instead. He would listen to her tired body lightly shuffle across the room, towards the grocery bag. And then he would hear the crackling of a granola bar wrapper being peeled off. (Jackson assumed she really missed her scrambled eggs.)
Isle of Saints and Scholars: Part VI
2:17p.m. Thought of another save haven at the last minute.
Unlike their travels through Italy, Lisa realized Jackson hadn't been following any sort of map down the rich green highways in Ireland, nor had he ever insisted on blending in with the tourist crowds. He knew where he had been going all along.
Jackson shifted his gaze to the driver's side mirror, "We'll see if we can make it back to America within the month or so...I think I got the point across by now."
"Right." Lisa mumbled in response. Pause. "Hey, Jack?"
"Yeah," he said curtly, merely to indicate he was up to listening.
Lisa was unsure if she even wanted to ask, let alone hear the facts—in case it somehow involved his career. Although after everything she had underwent with Jackson, with the Red Eye back then, and now dodging fellow assassins and hit-men alongside him and such, she reckoned she could probably handle whatever terrible thing thrown her way.
Thus, Lisa took a chance and enquired, "How do you know your way around these parts so well?"
This time around, he hesitated. She could tell by the way his hands slightly tightened over the steering wheel's arch.
Eventually in spite of his new uncertainties, he parted his mouth. "I was born here. I remember some of it."
And all of this was transforming into the most twisted of concepts.
Jackson and Lisa were starting to know each other.
I just love this film for the deep psychological play between the characters. And I thought it would merely interesting if Jackson was born where the actor Cillian had been, just since he'd portrayed the character is all.
I watched it for the first time with the director's commentary the other night, since I became curious of what I'd hear. And it highlighted more on the interaction and relationship between Jack and Lisa, which gives more for the viewer to analyze and be creative with...It was funny when they said that Rachel was never really supposed to get splashed with that iced mocha. Her surprised reaction in that scene is real!
