Justin stepped out behind Megan carrying both sets of luggage; she reached up and brushed at her light brown hair. She walked quickly, and didn't look back. Her arms were tightly bound around herself and she couldn't tell what she was feeling—there was so much that she had heard about certain elements of this mission. She gave an inward shudder at the thought. She looked around to see if any of the others had beat them there by some off chance. Her whole being was filled with waiting as she stood there with one leg bent just to the side a bit.
Justin caught up to her, and took her by the shoulder. "Slow down a bit," he coaxed her calmly. "You might have an aneurysm." He said to her.
She looked back at him flashing her eyes, "Sorry, I'm just—" there was a pause; whatever she had wanted to say wasn't going to come.
"Are you looking for the others?" Justin asked.
"Yeah."
Trent had pretty much broken their ranks down to keep them from being found out. He sent Kerrie, PJ and Tiffany on another flight. Then Boze, Alexis Kerrie and Danaisa on another. Scott, Mitchell and Marie were suppose to be on their way too, but it was unsure when or how.
All of this for what Trent had said would be a final showdown—he said that most of the Vampires had taken up refuge underneath New York. Now they were all on their way to stopping this before it grew to something larger.
Megan looked at Justin with her heavenly blue eyes; he just smiled over at her. She turned away, she had been quite the entire flight, only asking a few questions and talking back shortly.
"Are you a little nervous?" Justin asked her.
Megan looked back at him, "Yeah I think so, I just don't know what to expect and everyone else seems to be hiding something from us." Megan said. She paused there was a break in her voice, "And who was that Trent guy?" She asked.
Justin looked at her, "We don't really know—he just appears from time to time—but this is the first time in a year."
Megan stopped and nodded, "Kinda of like that Deepthroat guy?" Megan said.
"Yeah, almost the same." Justin said. "But he was a lot more reassuring, he just seemed so cool and calm, he could make you trust him with that glint in his eye." There was a short pause and Justin was staring at her for a while. "Hey, try to keep your mind off the work, it makes time before the job a lot easier."
She nodded her head and her ponytail flopped around, "I'll try to keep that in mind." Megan said softly.
Justin hefted the bags up a little more, "You ready to go?" He asked politely.
"Um, I want a Pretzel, and maybe a drink." Megan said. She looked at Justin, "But I can wait—let's just get out of here."
"No, you can get one—I think that it would be pretty cool for us to slow down some." Justin said. "It might loosen you up some." Justin said.
She crossed her arms, "A couple of drinks couldn't loosen me up some—I've got a lot on my mind, more than just this whole mission thing." Megan spoke eagerly.
They moved closer to the Pretzel stand, "Hey, don't worry about it, whatever there is down there, you and I can get through it." Justin said.
"Can I?" Asked Megan.
Justin nodded, "Yeah, you're pretty strong for your size." He spoke as he was about to arrive at the Pretzel stand.
Megan gasped with mock anger, "What's that suppose to mean?" She asked sliding her hands down to rest on her hips.
"You tell me!" Justin responded.
She bopped him on the head with her small purse, "I think I just did."
Justin looked at the guy behind the stand and smiled, "One Pretzel please." He put a five on the counter and receives the pretzel. Then he handed it to Megan who was still laughing. As they walked off together Justin started tickling her just to the side of her stomach and she shrieked out loud laughter.
"Hey cut it out." He left the bags there to the side of the stand and went to chase her. But before either one of them could get a good start, someone latched onto her shoulder and Justin froze in mid stride.
"Trent." Justin said.
Megan seemed rattled by the surprise, but the way the man who held her looked was not what she expected of Trent. His eyes were blood shot and he looked well over his stress limits. He let her go slowly and then walked over to Justin. "Keep your voice down!" Hissed Trent violently.
"Man, what they Hell's happened to you—you smell like you've been drinking." Justin said.
"I have a little, but we'll talk about the rest in the car." Trent said.
Justin looked across to where the luggage had been, "But our stuff is—"
"I had some of my men get it, it's in the Limo, where we can talk." Trent said.
As Megan watched him pass she could see through the blood shot eyes, the glint Justin had mentioned was there. "Come," Trent said. When he said that she and Justin didn't hesitate to follow.
The last thirty minutes of the flight, PJ and Tiffany sat there laughing at something that had been said right before they left St. Louis on their transfer flight. PJ swept a long tendril of hair off from the side of her face and twirled it between his index and middle fingers. He smiled and she smiled back at him, the green in her eyes shimmered brilliantly. Tiffany had spent the last few months growing her hair out; it was in big thick curls that spiraled down so tight that each curl almost formed a cylinder.
PJ couldn't stop playing with her hair, he would bounce the curls in his hand and run his fingers down the length of each one; pulling them back to their straightened length. Then he would quickly release them and let them bounce back up to where they had been. Tiffany smiled; the feel of his hands was more than enough to brighten her day.
Slowly his hand moved down from her hair and onto her back, then he slide his hands up under the hair and onto her shoulder, his hand tightening down onto it.
"I love this new hair—it suits you well." PJ said smiling.
An unwelcome blush crept in on Tiffany's face, "Well I don't know what to say about that, I really can't get used to the whole long dark brown curls thing." And then added. " But, I'm glad you like it," Tiffany smiled.
Their faces moved closer together, "I would like anything you do to your hair." Said PJ.
"I wish you wouldn't say stuff like that, I mean if it looks really dreadful, I hope you do tell me if something's wrong." Tiffany said.
He gave her a little peck on the cheek. "No complaints yet, and this can only get better." Said PJ softly.
"Very optimistic—" Tiffany said with a short smile as she stared him in the eyes. Her eyes glimmered with that passionate green color.
PJ leaned over and kissed her, their lips touched as light as a whisper of air in a spring breeze. They pulled back and then Tiffany said, "I need to go to the bathroom, but umm, hold that thought." She got up and moved to the back of the plane.
PJ looked down at the seat in front of him, he sighed heavily, two more weeks till you're married to her. He thought, his heart skipped a beat every time he thought of it. If he kept it up he might go into cardiac arrest.
He put his emotions at ease; there was nothing left for him to do but to wait until Tiffany returned. The wedding was causing him to get over stressed about other things. But he knew that she could be in there for a while. He eased his head back to the springy head rest.
For some reason PJ's eyes fell on the curtains that separated first class from coach. A woman in a long coat stepped through them; he wondered if she was on her way to the bathroom. She approached him slowly, reminding him of someone else he knew—with the same smile and expression that made them so trustworthy.
When she reached PJ she stopped, "Lieutenant Walker?" She asked.
PJ looked up at her; there was surprise spread across his features. "Yes?" PJ answered.
Slowly she sat down, her face had some slight hint of expression on it, "I'm with a Secret Organization called the Enlightened—we are what you would call, anti-Patriot in nature." She said.
"How do you know about this?" PJ asked suddenly wondering if this was some kind of Patriot ploy to test his strengths.
"I know a lot about a lot of things, but the thing I must tell you needs to be said fast—" she went down into her coat pocket and produced a small television like device, it had a fat antenna that looked like that of some older GPS models. "This is a long distance CODEC—it can use burst communication to communicate over short distances, or it can use satellite communication to reach certain points on the Earth."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Asked PJ.
A sly smile spread across her face, making her more frightening than Trent could ever have been. "You see, there's a group of our operatives waiting outside the house of your family and of the family of Commander Turner. One wrong move and they will systematically execute everyone inside—not to mention we've placed some nano-machines in Commander Turner's drink, at the push of a button she could be killed and it would look like a natural cause." Said the woman.
PJ breath heavily, "What if I just killed you when we were off this plane." Said PJ quietly.
"If I fail to report every hour, then they will know to take the lives of all those near you." Said the woman, "So the choice is yours."
There was a short pause so that he could think, he sighed, "Alright, what is it you want me to pull off." PJ said.
"Simply put, first I want you to sneak into the control room of the complex and retrieve some files that the Vampire Council has stored there, all of them are on the Patriots and what they know about all of the Patriots' personal information, as much as is known." She said.
Slowly PJ folded his arms, "That doesn't sound so bad."
"There's more, secondly I need you to pull a hit for me—I want you to assassinate Trent." She said.
PJ froze as he heard those words. "I don't know it I can—"
"Then let your family, future wife, and her family die while he lives…at least be logical, if he dies they all live." She said.
There was already general remorse in his brown eyes, this felt so wrong to him. "I have to do it—I have to protect them." PJ said.
The woman drew a weapon from her side, a long black Desert Eagle. "This will be what you use to kill him with, I want the shot made clean, and you to where gloves with it—leave the gun at the site of the killing. The vin number on it is untraceable." She said.
PJ nodded solemnly, "I'll do as told—for Tiffany's sake."
"Good, now I want you to have this done within twenty four hours of landing or they all die anyway." She said as she stood up, I should be going now." She said backing out of the seat and heading back towards the front of the plane. Although he was sure she was there, it was although no one had even seen her there.
PJ turned back forward and lowered his gaze, there was nothing he could do now, the Enlightened had rendered him powerless. He wondered what anyone else would do in this case; he wondered if there was anyone that could help him now.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Tiffany, her red t-shirt was the first thing he saw, the trim on the shirt was white. The tight jeans were the next thing he saw before she dropped down into her seat right next to him. "Hey baby." Tiffany said as she slid over next to him.
PJ was silent, he just watched her out of the corner of his eye, then after what seemed like forever he said, "Hey." Back to her, his tone was uncontrollably bland.
"What's the matter PJ?" Asked Tiffany—after dating for ten years they had somewhat of an idea about when the other was mad.
PJ looked away from her, out the window, they were getting closer to the airport now; things on the ground were becoming more and more visible as they lowered in altitude. "No there's nothing the matter."
"Yes there is, I can tell." She said slowly.
PJ leaned over on the window, "Well, if you really think that it's anything besides me being tired then you can sit there while I go to sleep." PJ said.
"No." Tiffany said, "if you want to be like that I'll sit elsewhere." Quickly as she could she rose up from the seat and walked to some other spot in the plane. PJ just hung his head.
Beatrix swept her hair back away from her eye as she watched Penny run off to the restroom from where she stood with Dena. She folded her arms and let one of her legs stick out a little ahead of her; she looked over at Dena who was adjusting her F.B.I. nametag. Crowds of people moved around the two of them as they stood there watching their bags in the center of the hall. The line of boarding passengers wasn't that long, but there was not very much are on the side of the hall for them to work in.
She watched the passengers as they moved from place to place and her mind began to slip off into deep thought. She noticed Dena still fondling her nametag out of the corner of her eye. An inward sigh marked the passage of time and then Beatrix couldn't wait longer, "Why are you bothering that?" She spat.
"What?" Dena shot back as she kept running her fingers over the nametag.
Beatrix came back closer to her, "What's the matter with you name tag?" She said.
Dena looked down, "Nothing, it's just something there to play with." Dena confessed.
"Oh," Beatrix whispered. There was a long awkward pause; that seemed to be very well played out. Beatrix killed the pause by blaring out her words over the top of the crowds of people, it was the kind of thing you said like you were talking to yourself, but in this case she wanted everyone to hear it. "It's amazing." Beatrix posted.
Confusion spread across Dena's delicate features. "What is?" She asked.
"I just think of how such a beautiful little girl could grow out of something as terrible as a rape." Beatrix pondered. "God works in mysterious ways."
"Yeah." Dena agreed. "When she comes out of the restroom we need to hurry up and get a boarding pass."
Beatrix could head all of those words, but chose to ignore them, "Do you think that she'll grow up to be normal?" She wondered. Dena never answered, and Beatrix just sucked the tip of her index finger. "She'll be something wonderful—I know it." Beatrix added.
"Ya' know what? You worry too much, Bea." Dena declared. "I can think of a million things that you would be better off worrying about besides that." She said.
"It's a mother thing—so much changes when you're a mom, and you have more to think about everyday." Beatrix said. "To tell the truth I never really felt like a mom until my mother turned possession of my daughter over to me—even when I used to spend more of the day with Penny." Beatrix confessed.
Dena shushed her cautiously as she noticed Penny returning, she was pulling slowly at her long dark hair, stroking it seductively as it lay over her shoulder. "Be quiet now, don't let her hear you!" She hissed.
Penny reached them and they were both silent, she stepped back into the line behind her backpack and stopped; not bothering to say a word. She backed to the side of the line some, just fidgeting as she stood there. Her mother did the same thing, but in the opposite direction.
At the pinnacle of her movement Beatrix bumped the side of a man next to her, it was hard bump, but the man did not move—he stood firm like a rock. "Oh my, I'm sorry." Beatrix apologized.
The man turned to her with a smile, "It's no problem." Then he looked at Dena, she gasped as she recognized him—the instantaneous realization that she knew this man as Trent. It had been forever since she contacted him. Trent spoke to Dena, "Well, just the person I was looking for, good morning to you Miss Perrier."
Dena nodded, "Trent? Why are you here?" She asked. Beatrix and Penny watched wondering all along—waiting or the explanation to come out in the conversation.
"I am in need of you assistance one last time, to clean up a very bad mess here in town." Trent said.
Dena sighed, "More zombies?" She hissed.
Penny and Beatrix perked up, "Wait, what are the two of you talking about?" Asked Penny.
"It's a long story, let me just say it this way—I have had some of my—Associates remove your bags from the plane and carry them out to my limo." Trent declared.
There was nothing that Dena could say; she couldn't even get angry. "What about the people down in Houston?" She asked.
"They are in the limo," said Trent waiting for you—not only that, but I took the liberty of having the money you all spent for this trip transferred back to your bank accounts—with a little extra something-something."
