AUTHOR'S NOTE: PRETTY PLEASE READ THIS!
So this isn't a Sonny with a Chance story, but I based a lot of the characters on the show, at least the first season. Hope you like it but please no flames, I worked hard on this. Constructive critisim always welcome. I have plenty of more to this story, review if you want more!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sonny with a Chance. I only own this story and its characters. Waverly Anderson is all mine. ;D
A thick crowd of people had gathered for this day. The day. It had been over 50 years since the last airplane had been flown. From the air, it would have looked odd, maybe even strange that so many people had driven to Musenberg. It looked more like a thick, congested heap of dirt than a group of people. The town itself was basically deserted; no one visited, not even family. No one played outside anymore, there was too much dirt in the air to do anything but gag. No one really went out anymore except for the town mechanics.
They were the real reason the town hadn't vanished off the face of the earth. They were the reason, along with the pilots, but that's a different part of the story. They were their savoir. When they said that nobody would ever get in a plane again after that day, they didn't listen. They went to work almost immediately, testing, practicing, flying for the first time in decades.
And for the first time in half a century, people were going to be able to see that. See everything they had done, all their hard work, all those heart wrenching, gallons of sweat, hours and hours had made. But did anyone care about those behind the scenes workers? No.
That was the sad fact of it all. No one cared about how they were made or who spent weeks and months just planning it, no. All they cared about was the people driving them. The pilots, which brings us to the other reason why Musenberg hadn't flat out died, the pilots were good at bringing attention. More than necessary most of the time but it gave Musenberg, for the first time in years, attention. People wanted to know what was happening in the small dirt town in the country. The mechanics, humble as they are, lived with it. They just wanted their town to live on, that's all.
The stadium, which had once been a racing track, was completely filled. There were more people in the stands than the entire town. Anxiety swelled in most of the folk, they had never seen so many people. It was a world defying moment, there were people from Risentan, the town east of them which their funny accents and long white dresses, boys always wanted a girl from Risentan. They were cute, petite, and most importantly, dim witted.
Then there were some Tejan boys. Those were the tall, bulky ones. Most spoke like they were either hawking something or just plain angry, or a mixture of the two. It was best to stand a few feet away when conversing.
There were so many people of some many different cultures; it was hard to even notice the people from the actual town. Not that they were very noticeable, they were, compared to everyone else's attire and forms of speaking, plain. But when you got them speaking or debating, you would see something so special and so prized about them, their determination. And that's what had got them here today.
That and Mabel Jenson and Waverly Anderson, but we'll get to that later.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" A voice boomed into microphone, filled with excitement that seemed to bounce off the walls, coming from all sides of the huge arena. It was responded by the cheering shrieks of the people. The announcer went on to talk about what an honor it was to have so many people come out and how it had touched our town. Most complete lies but you could see from the satisfied smirks on some Risentan girl's face, they were content, why ruin that?
Even in the dusty air and windy weather, three single figures stood out. They weren't dressed colorfully, or beautifully. The wore strictly black business suits and stood off to the sides, as if associating with the other people would deem them as savages. They're faces were emotionless, like a gray rock and a tone clearly screamed, "Do not speak to us." It was a polite, firm message.
By now, the arena had silenced enough to hear the announcer speaking rather off topic of his son and how proud he was to be a part of this enormous event and many children were already yawning. That was, until the rumbling vibration of propellers shook them awake. Someone probably knew where this was headed and took it to themselves to send out the planes. It was a smart decision.
The crowd burst into applause and many children tugged at their parents to ask what those motorized machines were. It was not an unusual question; they hadn't grown up with the invention.
"And to test theses brilliant machines we have five of our best pilots here today." There was a small, terrifying moment of utter silence until the crowd burst into a simultaneous thundering clapping. No one had planned on this, not even the men in black, who seemed to show the vague resemblance to surprise before violently scribbling something down on what looked like paper. No one had seen an airplane in nearly 50 years, flying one was an entirely different story.
But, like the man had said, four strapping men had emerged from the mechanic bunker and walked proudly towards the stadium. The crowd seemed to notice the number and even the Risentan's girls, who couldn't count twelve chickens, painted confusion on their delicate faces. There was a scuffling of words at the microphone before the announcer spoke again.
"We seem to be having a slight mechanical problem," He said the word "mechanical" as if it was only the mechanics fault, "So in the mean time-" But he was cut off at the roaring noise coming from the inside of the bunker.
Whispers burst, and talk was exchanged of an exploded engine, it was amazing what people could come up with in only four seconds. A moment passed and it seemed as if the announcer was about to speak again when an airplane exploded out of the bunker and scaled down the runway, traveling at an incredibly speed, mechanics from the bunker screaming and yelling for it to stop. People literally jumped out of their seats and watched it speed off, some gasping, others caught in fascination. The plane was small, a pilot's plane, and was the color of cherries in the spring, a succulent, bright red. It had to be going at least 70 miles per hour and had gained tremendous speed and was still accelerating fast.
The runway was only so long and would end in a matter of minutes. It still hadn't lifted. You could hear the crowd inhale as it began climbing, haunted memories of the last flight wandered in their minds but they ignored the signs. Exhaling bitterly and terror filling them as it hit the ground once again, they watched in silence. The runway was gone now and if it still had not lifted, it would hit the house on the other side of the fence if it did not stop or veer off now. The moment had passed and it was on a direct collision course.
It was approaching at a deadly speed and a three year old boy played in the yard as it accelerated. He dropped his ball on the ground as he saw the piercing red figure approaching, only a hundred feet away. A shriek was uttered by his mother who stood at the door with lemonade, which now fell to the ground, shattering. The boy looked from his mother to the plane once again in complete innocence and confusion and just as it was going to hit the white picket fence in front of it, the plane lifted and brushed the tree overhead, making leaves rain down on the boy, who laughed either way. The mother, who had a look of complete terror, briefly looked up to catch the gaze of the pilot, who was grinning after all that, grinning.
He wasn't like most pilots; he was younger, sixteen to be exact. He also looked nothing like the average Musenbergan. He had sandy blonde hair, more of the color of the sun than anything else. His eyes were also the color of a clear blue sky, which most Musenberg's never saw quite enough of. He would have fit in better with some Triheran's, who were known for their golden hair color than with a Musenbergan. But that undeniable quality, that feverish determination was more than enough to show where he belonged. The plane had shifted completely vertical and he was going straight up, the pressure of the atmosphere pushing down on him but he had been in too many simulators and air practices to even bother doing anything about it.
He was lost in the energy of the moment. He yelled in joy. He wore his pilot uniform with pride and the dark colors made his fair hair stand out even more than it already did. His face was always in some kind of confident crooked smile that made girls scream for him. Most being a relative term. This was Waverly Anderson.
"Flight 49, respond please. Over." A silence. "Flight 49 up, respond to dispatch now. Over." Back at the arena, the people had broken out in a monumental applause at the plane going up but headquarters was going insane. They hadn't planned for such an event. They didn't even know who was in the plane.
Rolling her dark eyes in irritation and annoyance, Mabel rushed down the stairs towards the runway. She had been watching from the top of the stadium, standing in the shadows, trying her best not to attract attention but she could tell that headquarters would be going crazy trying to find out who it was. She already knew though. Her eyes focused on her feet, which were moving faster and swifter than the air that brushed her, she didn't notice the crowd of boys watching her in awe. She wore a light brown plaid dress that fell to her knees and wore her dark wavy chocolate hair down, which obviously was a problem with this wind because it hit her face and danced in the wind.
Her dress flapped in the harsh weather, even with her black coat over it, which looked more deranged than it felt. She felt comfortable, that's all that mattered. She rushed by the boys, who were still gawking at her, without another glance. They sighed in discontent, obviously wishing she would have seen them. She didn't even know anyone was watching her. She paced towards the radio dispatcher in the center of the track before she was stopped by a tall, bulky man in black. She noticed he looked nothing like the other men; his gaze was strictly professional, not coldly business.
"Sorry miss you can't go in there. Confidential." He told her in a deep, gruff voice as he crossed his big dark arms across his chest. Mabel scoffed irritably, her dark eyes flashing dangerously.
"Confidential? I know more about that plane's engine than you know your own wife. Let me in." She spat, her eyes flashing venomously. She could see his eyes grey eyes shoot open in what she guessed was shock. She was used to this, she didn't understand why all men thought she this delicate, fragile girl, she was just as strong as the boys and if not, stronger. She could take it just as much as she could give. Make no mistake by the dress; she only got dressed up because she had been looking forward to this day for months, no other reason.
She was saved by her uncle, Paul, rushing over towards her, reassuring the guard that she was part of the group.
"Mabel! Boys, she's here." A quick group of exhales erupted from the table with the dispatcher. She would have laughed if she hadn't been staring so intently at the guard. Mabel was still scowling; her uncle quickly took her shoulders and dragged her towards the radio, Mabel still had not stopped glaring. The guard gave a cold shudder. There was quick wolf whistle directed towards Mabel that shook her back to reality.
"Nice dress Mabel! Very attractive. Very sexy." They teased and the boys immediately started clapping eagerly, shouting vulgar words and pointing towards their laps while the men off to the sides watched in amusement. Mabel groaned in disgust.
"Shut it or I'll shove it up your-"
"Now Mabel now is no time for a biology lesson." A deep voice echoed and she looked briefly surprised at her father's appearance before nodding bitterly. He looked like he always did mechanic's grease all over his calloused hands with his regular blue overalls that were smudged in dirt and grime. His dark hair that matched his daughter's was greasy and messy, like always.
She nodded disgruntled and grabbed the transmitter and instinctively began speaking. She waited for no one.
"Flight 49, answer back. Over." Her voice was firm but there was something in there that just screamed, "If you don't answer, I will blast you out of the sky." Up in the air, Waverly was a little thrown off by her voice. But he quickly recovered and answered with a coy, "Hello?"
Mabel was ready to claw his eyes out.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?" She screamed into the transmitter, causing the boys around her to jump but not Waverly, who had already moved away the device from his ear, knowing fully well how bad he was about to get screamed at.
"Flying. Duh." She scowled at the paper in front of her, imagining it was Waverly falling from the sky and burning up and made a hard fist in her hand. She knew it was Waverly, who else would fly a pilot plane directly into the sky in front of a huge crowd and nearly die without anyone knowing?
"Waverly I swear to God that if-"
"If I what? If I die? Would you be sad for me?" He teased, obviously playing with her and she gritted her teeth. He laughed at her obvious fury.
"Waverly if you so much as get one dent in that plane, I will personally-" But again, she was interrupted by the infuriating, deep voice of Waverly Anderson.
"Oh, personally. We're really getting into it now. Do you just want to propose now and get it over with?" He could practically see the raw fury gathering in the back of her throat and suddenly, the sky seemed like the only safe place in the world. But before she could answer, the plane zipped through the stadium and the crowds looked as if they were going to pass out in excitement. Her dress rippled and her chocolate hair danced in the wind once again. She knew the boys would have teased her if it weren't for the pure hatred in her eyes.
"WAVERLY!" She barked into the transmitter, some surprise in her voice but he had already hung up. "Damn it!" She cussed loudly, her dress now returning to its normal position, though her hair was still flying. She jerked her head in different directions, searching for where that red devil of a plane had gone. She swore if she ever got him back on the ground, she would herself melt down that plane.
"What did he say?" Michael asked, one of the other mechanics, obviously the only one with the courage to ask the seething girl any sort of question.
"Is he not coming down?" Another voiced curiosity in his voice more than anything. Probably wanting to know what she was going to do.
"Oh, like HELL is not coming down." And with that, she stomped out of the small tent and jogged towards the crowd again, seething with anger.
"And that my boys, is why you don't mess with girls. Especially ones like Mabel." Uncle Paul said and in the distance you could hear Mabel's distressed shouts of "MOVE!" The boys nodded in complete agreement.