February 12
Eleven hours later, the sun was rising from the east over the thick fog of the Bay Area. The plane needed to refuel in San Francisco for next leg to Los Angeles. This redeye flight fits well: it left at night, now arriving in dusk. It's 5:24 and Alex just came back from the restroom and went back to her seat and spoke to Kurouac, "We're about to descend soon. " She saw him shutting his eyes, ignoring her. She grabbed a clipboard and whacked behind his head. "Wake up, fucker!"
Jack woke up and blabbered," What the fu- oh. Sorry about that." He then grabbed the clipboard from her and started scribbling down the altitude and the usual flight crap. "What to do? Hold up."
Jack then pressed the speaker button to SFO Tower, "This is Captain Jack Kurouac and Alex Serra speaking. Flight 2 is now approaching the landing strip in approximately 10 minutes. Do we have a clearing?"
" Unfortunately, no you do not as we are currently experiencing fog interference. However, there is an airport across the San Francisco Bay. It's called Hayward Executive Airport or HWD."
"I don't know about it. We have little fuel left, but we'll give this a shot."
"That sounds good and, by the way, what type of aircraft you're piloting on?"
" This is an AC-130 Hercules. We're flying for ARGUS."
Looking over the cockpit, he replied, "SFO, we will land at Hayward Airport, if possible. Kurouac out."
"Thank you. SFO out too."
The light dimmed and he took a sigh breath. Alex nudged his elbow at him, "Hayward? Really?"
She angrily called Waller about this situation, "We are currently over the San Francisco Bay Area. However, we have to divert the plane towards Hayward Executive Airport, due to extreme fog."
Waller replied, "Is that so?" she contemplated for a while, "alright, we'll meet you there at eight o clock. Thank you for the tip."
He put his phone away. He looked around the cockpit and asked Alex, "Since we're in the Bay Area, any plans tonight?"
She was quiet.
" Fine. What do want you do?"
Again, she was quiet.
He tried go suave in her, " Ok. Let's talk about-"
" Shut up," she said firmly, "Shut the fuck up! I don't want to hear your stupid talk!"
Upon realization, he knows his sweet talk wouldn't work. He ignores her warning and starts to talk about his work.
" Honestly, this is the best job I ever had. I like it because I do it out of love. I don't know what the hell they want, but as long they give me the cash, I'll be happy to do this. Weird," he then quickly smiled and said, " but cool. What about you? Do you do it out of love like me?"
" Love?" she signed, "It's all bullshit. It's nothing but lies. I've learnt it the hard way." Her gruffness gave him some contemplating thoughts about her. Who was she?
" Do you wanna go back?"
She was confused, "What? No."
" Ok. Well, I'll be going to the bathroom. Take over my spot. Thanks."
"Sure." She replied with thought. She set the plane to autopilot and brought out her pack of cigarettes and scratched up lighter. She grabbed one and lit her cigarette. Her smoke bellowed in the cockpit, reminiscing that odd question and his sudden desire for her. Albeit that Jack asked her out so many times, this time it felt different than her usual piss-off attitude.
His question stunned her. Alex Serra looks like a dangerous warrior but in fact, inside she is the polar opposite. This Pandora's box struck her so much; all her life, before anyone knew about her past, she started off as a nobody. She never opened up her backstory. Growing up between 17th Street and Orizaba Avenue in Long Beach, her world was already a nightmare. Everybody, even her parents, called her a stupid, dyke, and other harmful words. She was predestined to be a loner; shunned by her society, she took a bad route. She started to take drugs and tried to kill herself, but couldn't do it because of God. She thought that God had abandoned her, but then someone took up her hand. Theresa Valderrama, the faintest Mestizo of Long Beach, took up this loner's hand. She thought Theresa was god, she though she was forsaken ready to give up, but T saved her. She savored Theresa like ice cream in the sun taking it all to the last drop. No one could not understand their true love in this glorious relationship. Alex never did what every girl did before, but thanks to her, she can finally be free at last. It was all fun and games, until one Saturday afternoon.
They were walking home on Ximeno Avenue from Los Coyotes Diagonal, holding hands and kissing behind a liquor store like there's no tomorrow. Suddenly, she vividly remembered that a black Ford Pinto suddenly braked on the street and a gun was pointed at the duo. Before she was about to get shot, Theresa jumped in. A stomach wound wouldn't last any time. As the car went away, Alex cried, "No, no, no, no, no! Why god, why!"
Alex cried crazily and denied that this tragedy is happening. Theresa then gripped her hand to Alex's soft hands, "Don't cry, my love. Ain't life is a bitch, huh?"
Alex's unwavering smile tried to warm her heart up, but it was already futile. Coughing blood, Theresa then told her to call an ambulance. She did what she said and called 911. After that order, Theresa also asked this to her, "Thanks for being my friend and my lover. Also, c-can you do something?"
She quickly replied, "Yes! I'll do whatever you want."
"Do you wanna go back to our first day?"
Her eyes started to water. She said yes and Alex tried to speak about their fateful meeting with her; she stuttered about how she saved her and other good memories. Unfortunately, this wasn't enough to keep her happy. Theresa's eyes started to whiten and her heart started to slow down. Within seconds, she's almost there to death.
Her eyes then turned white. She has died in cold blood. When the cops came thirty-one seconds later, all they saw was a dead girl and a sobbing girl. It's a torn up piece of love that cannot be sewed. She then ran away to her house from the seventh layer of hell crying and then she packed her stuff into a thick army backpack and ran away from this nightmare. She was only seventeen.
For a twenty-one year old, she thought life was cruel and unfair and decided to look at the world as the new hell. She would trick men by her seductive looks and gutted them in some dimmed out motel room every week. Yet she was still unsatisfied of her guilt until one day she met Amanda Waller on Argyle St. under the Interstate 101. Waller saw Alex as a perfect model: lonely, sad, and mad. Waller then instantly hired her to do the dirty work. She was taken, fed and trained for this work. This job molded her into something more brutal. No longer was she called a dyke, a cunt, or a loser, now she's tough and strong willed, a cold-blood "child" soldier.
From the Long Beach to Buenos Aires to Vladivostok to London, killing and slaughtering were her only two things that kept her sanity. Those who ripped or betrayed her, she sliced, gutted, burned, or shot them, you name it; her beauty in slaughter came in four letters: love. Her shell was broken and she blossomed in her new skin. Alex will never forget the day she lost her innocence. All she wanted was love, but Waller herself gave the bloodiest love gift: she turned her into a super soldier in DC, with no memories of the past. Waller's lap dog is a fierce warrior with no qualms for any consequences, which is why Waller liked her: she was in despair.