Chapter 1
Getting shot at was not on pop star Red Falcon's checklist. Then again, anything can happen when you are famous...
"Flight 807 from Versailles to New York will be taking off soon." a soothing woman's voice spoke out of the loudspeaker. Red hurried to the gate where he signed in at the counter and got ready to walk to the plane.
While Red was adjusting his pack, he felt a prickle on the back of his neck. Red shot up. He knew what that feeling meant. He was being watched.
Red looked around the crowd behind him. Anyone could be watching him. After all, he was a worldwide famous pop star. But this feeling felt like a new one, like someone was stalking him who did not have the greatest intentions.
Red shook his head. You're being overcautious. No one bad is near. Red smiled, pleased with that thought. No one would try to harm Red Falcon. Red thought as he stepped onto the gateway leading to the plane.
How very wrong he was.
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In fact, two men in black coats were watching Red as he stepped onto the plane. The first one went by the name Punch. The second one called himself Hurdle.
"Why do we have to work for those stupid Ekats?" Punch groaned. Both men were fully Tomas, through and through.
"Because, you dolt," Hurdle began. "we're on the run. Remember? Ekats? Torture? Ski lodge?"
"I know why, but did they have to make the red guy be in charge?" Punch complained. Punch, in Hurdle's opinion, was the most annoying and stupid person on the planet. Hurdle glared at Punch.
"I don't like it either, but have you seen that guy's katanas?" Hurdle retorted. Honestly, Punch was strong and all. He could bust down a wall with his bare head. You would just have to show him the wall...and his head.
"I have, but-" Punch started, but was cut off by a hand raise by Hurdle. Hurdle had spotted something, and if it was what he thought it was, the asset would need to come in.
He pulled up his binoculars and saw a muscular man in a blue camo shirt and ripped brown jeans. He was lean and tall, and most definitely dangerous. Hurdle and Punch scowled at the same time. They still had had scars from their last encounter with him.
"Bring in the asset." Hurdle said unnecessarily.
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Red sat back in the first-class seat on flight 807. He was getting nice and comfy...
Red wasn't sure when he had drifted of to sleep, but when he woke, he could see the tops of the buildings in Paris. He smiled, and was about to relax again when a bone-shuddering crash sounded on one of the wings. Nearly everyone fell out of their seats.
A second jolt came later, almost like someone was taking a battering ram and smashing it against the windows. Silence for a second. Red almost started thinking it was his imagination when a loud BOOM! echoed, and the plane's wing side flew open.
Standing in the group that walked in later were two burly men who had obviously been in the gym for way too long. There were two other slimmer, but still as deadly-looking, people following, each holding a Desert Eagle. But in the middle of all four men was a man covered in a red suit. He had to katanas strapped on his back. From the evil glare in his eyes, Red could tell that that man was the leader.
"Where is Red Falcon?!" boomed the voice of one of the burly men, turning to face a middle-aged man who was returning to his family in Detroit.
"Where is he?" the man spoke again, even more threatening now. The middle-aged man shivered with fear and backed away from the man's stinky breath.
Please don't tell. Please don't tell. Red thought desperately. The middle-aged man whispered something into the burly man's ear and then pointed to Red's seat.