Disclaimer: The following chapter, and very likely the ones that come after, may or may not contain offensive elements in regards to race, gender, religion, or any other unspecified topics. Please keep in mind that this story is purely for fun and entertainment. Feel free to stop reading and disapprovingly dismiss this fanfic from your life if you find anything triggering, because otherwise I will not change anything in the story.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats and buckle up your seat belts. We will be experiencing a wave of turbulence shortly. Thank you for your cooperation, and have a nice flight."
Despite the flight attendant's professionally amicable announcement, however monotone it sounded, someone got up and went to use the bathroom anyways. Anas closed his laptop and sighed. Typical Americans. They couldn't even wait five minutes for the turbulence to end.
Consider yourself lucky. He stood up a little so that he could see the faces of his comrades. Mohammad, seated two rows ahead of him, nodded back. Sadiq and Shamir too stated their readiness. Ameen, the awkward youth he is, fumbled for the bag lent from the Organization, but otherwise he was green to go. It was a good thing that the Asian woman next to him was asleep.
"All right," he whispered, "the time has come, brothers."
Ameen slid the bag, a duffel bag, to be precise, over to Mohammad's aisle. He caught it with a steady hand and reached his large, hairy hand in for its contents. Inside, he was able to find a fully armed Kalashnikov, more widely known to the Americans here as an AK-47, and passed it to Sadiq. Money well spent, Anas thought. That little bag cost them a fortune, but the fact that it was actually an unlimited void made for storage made going through the airport security much easier than anyone of their profession could ever ask for.
Mohammad equipped himself with another of the rifle and passed Shamir an American M16, foraged from the corpse of a soldier back home. Ameen, having recently just joined the cause, received a Heckler & Koch HK45. Though they have a third Kalashnikov ready to be used, and the fact that it's generally operable by just anyone, Ameen is too much of a greenhorn to handle its recoils. A pistol for now would do, but Anas doubt that he would get the chance to shoot any Americans.
He didn't need a gun for himself.
Mohammad, the most passionate brother in arms of the group, had the honor of initiating the first step of their battle.
"All right you American capitalists! This is a takeover!"
When the entire economy class responded to their hijack with nothing but a few yawns, quiet murmurs, and several looks of disapproval, Anas got up and scanned around, his thick eyebrows raised. Many of the passengers were asleep, yes, but that doesn't mean this should be their reception. They are terrorists, for Allah's sake. Aren't they feared among Americans?
"Mohammad, brother," he suggested, "try shouting louder."
He did, and only then two or three more passengers were aroused, looking up at them with blank expressions. One of them even went back to sleep after surveying their faces.
"Hey, you guys shooting a movie?" A voice said, seated in front of Mohammad. "I thought America's pretty sensitive about this type of stuff?"
Oh no.
To his relief, Mohammad did not explode in vehement anger. They found the source of the voice to be just a kid, an Asian teenager, who sat next to what appeared to be his mother by the window.
"You think you're pretty funny, huh?" Mohammad said, his accent permeating through his English, and his Kalashinikov pointed at him. "Tell you what, how about you be the first to witness our resolve? Allah shall be the judge."
A little too fast for victims, and a teenager at that, but it couldn't be helped. Anas just hoped Mohammad's hatred for the West, however justified, wouldn't cloud his judgment later.
"Oh, I'm an extra now? Edit this line out later, if you can. Okay." The kid coughed. "'Seriously? An airplane hijack? Could you get any more stereotypical than that? You're not helping the outlook on your faith, anyhow. All you are getting from this is to reinforce your labels.' Yeah, so not my best acting, but that's as natural as I could go. Nice AK, by the way. Whoever designed the prop needs some credit."
He was shown that it was not a prop when Mohammad fired a quick and controlled burst to the ceiling. Anas muttered a curse in Arabic, but thankfully it did not disrupt the plane, at first glance. Only the minor shaking of the turbulence kept them occupied. By then people awoke from the shot, and, finally, praise Allah, they gasped.
"You, attendant" Anas pointed at the one unwittingly passing by. "Turn on all the lights. I want them to witness their judgment."
She, at gunpoint, moved to a small room down the aisle and a few seconds later the dim economy class was alight with bright fluorescent lights.
And then, it was at this moment, Anas knew he screwed up.
"C-Chinese?" Ameen looked around, wide-eyed. "Why are they all Chinese?"
"Hey, don't just assume we're all Chinese." the kid from earlier spoke. "There's Hong Kongers, Koreans, Vietnamese, Thailanders, Malaysians, and Singaporeans on this plane. Not every Asian person you see is Chinese."
"Anas?" Mohammad shot a look of desperation at him. "Brother?"
This is impossible. Just how did this happen?
"Where are the Americans?" he demanded. "Are there any Americans on this plane?"
Only three or four hands were raised, after the longest minute of their lives.
"This is Hong Kong Airlines, dumbass," the kid said. "Watch which plane you step into next time."
"Hong Kong..." Ameen gulped.
"Airlines." Sadiq followed in his thick and heavy English.
So much for Allah's judgment.
"So...judging by your looks, I'm assuming this isn't a movie shoot?"
"You! You shut up!" Mohammad pulled the trigger. Anas shuts his eyes. They might have been able to get away if there was no bloodshed, but, well, Mohammad was the most devoted, all right. Now that their plans were flushed down the toilet the moment they stepped on this plane, the best course of action right now is to improvise. They'd still have to find the captain to deviate the destination, though.
He was only halfway walking towards the flight attendant to politely ask her for bringing him to the pilot room when he realized he didn't hear the gory splatter of the kid's brain. Anas turned around and saw what happened.
From Mohammad, Sadiq, Shamir, and Ameen, and might as well everyone else in the plane's point of view, the 7.62x39mm round appeared to be hovering midair, only several centimeters away from entering the Asian kid's forehead.
From Anas' point of view, there was a black, gauntleted hand, holding the bullet between its thumb and index finger.
"T-This kid..." Mohammad backed away. At least he knew what was going on here. "Anas..."
"I know." He slicked back his hair and sighed heavily. Just he thought the day couldn't get any worse, they managed to provoke a Stand user. "Let me take care of this one, brother."
The kid narrowed his eyes as Anas approached him. The black, plated hand dropped the bullet, causing an adequate clink on the floor.
"So this is a real hijack."
"It was, but now it's ruined. Do you know how long we have planned this?"
"Hey, what's going on out there?" The guy who went to use the bathroom pounded on the door. Shamir had blocked it with several piles of suitcases.
"Ten years. For ten years we waited for this chance. For ten years we endured while our family and friends were bombed by American drones. Ten years." He took a deep breath. "Do you think we are going to stop just because of one mishap? Mohammad shot you. You were supposed to die. I am simply here to make sure you stay that way."
He exhaled. A sandy colored vapor flowed out of his nostrils, gathering into a swirling vortex on the airplane aisle. It grew bigger and bigger, spinning and spinning until a brawny, djinn of gold spun into shape, hovering over the gathered whirlwind as its upper torso. A crimson turban it wore, its pupil-less eyes hid beneath the shade it offered.
"I figured there would be Stand users in our way, but I did not expect my first encounter here to be in the form of a millennial brat." Anas stepped back. "Rip him apart, Darude."
"Allah!"
The golden djinn stretched back its arm and delivered a rushing corkscrew. With the several hundreds of people breathing and exhaling in the economy class they were in, Darude was able to gain a tremendous boost in power, being able to tear flesh with just a blow of its winds. A punch in this kid would be overkill.
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek
...but he isn't just any kid, so it seemed.
"Tch."
A humanoid figure, clad in black plate, effortlessly blocked Darude's attack with its arm, the razor sharp winds still scratching its metallic surface. Its helmeted head crowned two ear-shaped figures off at the sides, and a thin slit was reserved for the eyes, if it had any beneath its expressionless helm. A knight from the Middle Ages, here out of all places.
Anas leered at it. "Not bad, you're the first to stop a Darude this strong."
The kid glared at him. Darude in response narrowed its eyes towards the knight's sealed visor.
"Allah!" It pulled back its arm and jabbed several times with its whirling fists. The knight sluggishly moved in response, taking the hits.
"I see," Anas observed, letting his djinn to feel around the threat it posed. "So your Stand is one of those short range types with heavy emphasis on power." Taking advantage of the momentum, Darude, with graceful agility, leaned forward and sent a well-aimed punch behind the knight's shoulder, seeking to crush its user. It managed to deflect it at the last second.
"And not so much speed, by the looks of it." Darude's arm disappeared into a gaseous state and reformed back to its body, assuming a fighting stance. "Well then, that armor must be its selling point. It could withstand a blow from a Darude produced by some two hundred people. Not bad. Not bad, I must say."
The golden djinn spun several times in place, its winds howling.
"Allah." It growled.
"But how many hits can it take, before it shatters to pieces?"
"ALLALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALLALALALALALALALALALALALA!"
Faster than the wind, the djinn unleashed an immeasurable barrage of jabs, its fists as the embodiment of a desert's tempest. Like a sandstorm bent on drowning its victims, the golden djinn sought to destroy the Middle Ages knight with its unrivaled fury and unparalleled rage.
As his Stand had no choice but to take the hits, the kid's face displayed signs of pain. Cracks steadily formed as the knight endured each of Darude's attacks, forced to defend with its arms crossed its chest.
"Not even the fastest machine gun could outpace Darude," Anas gloated as he stood back and watched, "It thrives on the carbon dioxide living things emit, becoming stronger each time they breathe. You think you could stand a chance when there's this many people on the plane? It's only going to grow bigger and bigger when I arrive at the Times Square with my brothers—"
His monologue was rudely interrupted when the knight suddenly ducked in time and lurched forward for a solid punch.
"Deus!"
Anas quickly recalled back Darude to defend him, and while its physical form is suitably sturdy, it felt the strike. The blow was enough to cause some of its winds smashed out from its back.
"Times Square, is it?" The kid smirked rather obnoxiously. "Thanks for telling me your plan."
Anas grimaced, but he quickly recomposed himself and scoffed back, dismissing the his lucky hit. It's nothing. He still has the momentum.
"That's because you wouldn't live to speak of it." He commanded the djinn to rush forward for a counterattack. With furious speed it delivered a cracking blow to the knight's abdomen. A small crater was carved in, and blood dripped from the kid's mouth. Before it could fight back, Darude gifted it an uppercut to its plated face and bestowed several heavy jabs across its body, making fissures on its body wherever it went.
"Not so smug now, are you, China boy?" Anas, embracing the thrill of the fight, watched the beatdown with satisfaction. "Mohammad," he called, "get to the flight captain and proceed with the original plan. We will make this plane fly to New York."
When he turned back around, however, the kid seemed different from before. He wasn't sure what, but something's off about him.
"You, what did you just call me?"
Darude stopped its relentless assault. "China boy? What, like that is not the truth. All of you Asians look the same."
He stood up. "Take that back."
"Or what? Your Stand is pathetic. All it has is a thick skull, just like you and your ching chong China men."
"Hey, Anas, that's going a bit too far..." Ameen sheepishly commented from afar.
"You shut up. Go with Mohammad. I'll handle this kid." He faced the Stand user. "Oh, what you gonna do? You gonna kung fu kick my ass? Don't make me laugh. Go back to your own country, we don't need any more of your kind infesting other places."
It may be just his imagination, but the knight, with a dark glistening beneath the small crack in its visor, seemed to be staring at him with a certain fierceness he can't just place.
"Deus!" It struck without any warning.
"Allah!" Darude was able to deflect it just in time. But barely.
"...What?"
Did he see that right? How was it able to strike so fast, almost to the point of being unseen, blurred by motion?
"Deus!" It went again, evidently faster this time.
"Allah!" Darude caught its fist with both of its hands.
"DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS—"
"ALLALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA—"
No, something is wrong. Something is definitely wrong here. Why is it so fast? How is it so fast? That Stand is punching almost as fast as Darude...no, just as fast.
"Deus!"
The knight found an opening between the djinn's counters and punched just above its shoulder, aiming smash Anas in the face. By doing that, it also left an opening of its own.
"Allah!" With the knight out of the range, the kid is defenseless, and Darude took the opportunity to strike, seeking to drill a hole into his stomach with its swirling fists.
Time seemed to have slow down as the Stands went past each other, and for a brief moment, Anas saw that the knight's arm was getting grazed by Darude's own arm. A subtle blue ripple rebounded across its plated arm each time it was scratched by the razor-sharp winds, and the blue markings on its arm glowed faintly in response.
I see...
He felt the solid gauntleted hand disfiguring his nose as the knight landed its fist first. Darude, lashed by the sudden loss of its user's concentration, missed its attack by inches. The dark knight faced its user, its hulking figure towering over his measly 5'9 height.
"DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS DEUS! DEUS VULT!"
He was sent flying in intense pain, face beaten beyond recognition. Just so as he landed on the lap of an of a confused and screaming Asian woman, Anas closed his eyes and prayed fervently to Allah that this was all just a terrible, terrible dream.
"I'm from Hong Kong, damn it." The kid sputtered as he wiped the blood off his mouth, watching Darude dissipate and its sandy colored form dispersed into the air conditioning vents.
"Oh, we're here already?" His mother lazily stretched and yawned as the Boeing skidded to a halt on the runway. He will never get used to the way his ears pop during landings, will he?
"Yeah, we're here."
"Hey Joshua, your mother just had a weird dream." She spoke to him in Cantonese. "Guess what happened?"
He sighed. "What?"
"I don't quite remember, but there were gunshots and men screaming. It was really strange."
"Some dream it was. You sure it wasn't a nightmare?"
"Maybe it was. I'm probably just too tired." His mother leaned up. "What's with all the commotion? Did something happen while I was asleep?"
Joshua sank to his seat and glanced at the unconscious Arabic men who lay senseless on the row of seats next to him.
"Just a turbulence."