Sarah Court held on to her cameraman as the helicopter made another sharp turn. She really hated these things. But this Hancock Hostage situation was the biggest story there was right now, and the best coverage, her boss assured her, was in the air.
The copter wheeled around the Water Tower in order to get a look without getting shot down. It had been strict police orders. But Sarah wasn't going to let a bunch of blue-collars ruin her chance at the news desk. Determined, she ordered the driver to double back by the Tower to get closer to the action.
And then something hit them.
Jack struggled to keep his grip on the helicopter landing gear. His shoulder had nearly popped out upon grabbing it, and the blades chopping the air above was deafening. If only his mother could see him now...
His sudden weight caused the chopper to tilt alarmingly. It wasn't a sturdy military grade. It was a simple, almost flimsy news copter, built primarily for speed rather than protection and stability. He spotted a terrified woman's face in the window above him. She turned and yelled something at the pilot, who veered sharply away from the tower, towards the Hancock.
Perfect.
Sarah could not beilive it. They hadn't been hit by loose siding or some manic's missile. They'd been attacked by a person. In midair.
If you could call him that. From the looks of it, the attacker didn't look a day over seventeen. Crazy teens. At least in her day, they most they'd done was raid liquor cabinets and smoke pot. Nowadays, crazy kids tried to do what the special effects did.
She yelled at the pilot to find a place to land, but he misheard her, deafened as he was by the blades and panic. He wasn't trained to try to find a landing spot while there was someone hanging where the landing gear was supposed to be. And the sudden weight had caused the helicopter to shift perilously close to the Water Tower. Instinctively, he veered left, bringing the the helicopter higher as he did so.
Jack groaned as his stomach lurched violently. The shifting and turning was making him sick. He arms were starting to ache. Just a bit longer.
The helicopter veered alarmingly again. The pilot, now safely away from the Water Tower, was starting to turn the craft in sudden sharp turns and twists. He wasn't really going anywhere, so what was he trying to-
Jack's overly paranoid automaticlly provided him with an answer which seemed terribly and sickingly plausible. The pilot wanted him off. Now.
It wasn't that the pilot was really trying to kill the boy. Much. But he was only human. And the sad truth was when humans began to panic, they try to block out anything that stresses them out. And in this case, the kid hanging from his copter was severely stressing him out. And since he was still there, a very dark part of his mind was trying to get rid of him.
Sarah gripped his arm. "You'll kill him!"
The pilot took a deep breath, banished his fears, shook himself out of his shadowy funk, and responded, "I'll try to find a place to land."
Jack's arm's were screaming bloody murder. Just...a bit...longer.
There!
The Hancock loomed up ahead, windows shining brightly. The helicopter came up near the building and started to ascend. Obviously, it wanted to land on the roof and probably kick him of. But that was okay. The taxi ride was over.
With a heave, Jack swung forward and tucked himself into a ball, awaiting impact.
CRASH!
Jack smashed into a window on the forth floor, sending glass shards shooting forward into the inside.
Sarah couldn't believe what she'd just seen and went through. She sat in silence for a moment, staring at the hole the strange teen had gone through. Was he just a crazy? Or was he a boy on a mission?
"Harold? Fire up your camara."
Jack groaned slightly, and picked himself up from the wall he fallen into. He froze suddenly, remembering where he was. He listened with strained ears for any approaching movement. He heard nothing.
As he picked himself up, he realized the wall was actually a man. Next to him lay a rocket launcher. It seems the car blaster from before had moved from his former position. And he'd unwittingly provided an excellent pillow for Jack's impact.
Jack streched, wincing as he shifted his aching muscles and stinging leg. There was little time to lick his wounds. There were lives at stake.
