Disclaimer – I do not own any of Team Ninja's Characters or anything else related to Dead or Alive.
Christie looks over disgustedly at the constant stream of half chewed peanuts within a river of stale 7-Up that spills onto her black jacket from the Russian's half opened mouth. Even if she could forgive the wetness, his wood-sawing snores and the constant smacking of his lips deserve numerous slaps. She must continue to tell herself that the plane will land soon and that selflessly assisting half-wits will eventually serve as her redemption.
But that wailing baby is another problem altogether. Christie suppresses a growl as she turns in her seat, poking her head into the thin aisle and looks behind her, at the much too young mother holding a crying baby that doesn't match the skin complexion of the man sitting next to her, but that's another issue.
"Change it, feed it, shut it up somehow!" Christie orders with her most menacing scowl and young woman's eyes bulge as she looks away from the screen in the front, which plays 'Barbershop 3, State of the Barber's Union'. She peels the headphones away from her pierced ears and flips her blonde, silver, and pink streaked hair.
"Do you want something, grandma?" She asks through gum chews and Christie reaches to her waist, but curses internally when she realizes that the annoying bastard of a rent-a-cop confiscated her favorite gun when she decided to coerce the flight attendant to board her row first. She hasn't killed anyone in months, but those two are going to look like accidents, this hussy will be third.
Christie blinks twice and loses the scowl in an attempt to be more agreeable,
"Would it be possible for you to quiet your child?" The young woman ignores Christie and places the headphones back on and Christie leaps to her feet and brings her fist into the air, but stops. Redemption, redemption, redemption. She repeats the word over and over in her head as she discreetly reaches into the oblivious woman's lap, and procures the crying infant.
Holding the baby away from her already ruined jacket, Christie studies every ounce of her section of the plane to stash the baby, and decides on a nearby overhead compartment. She replaces the weight in the idiot woman's lap with a small black leather carrying case. Through victory, Christie sits back down and crosses her arms with a smug grin, but her relaxed state doesn't last long.
She slowly turns her head to the left where a larger than average woman sits in the middle row, her chicken filled face barely inches away from Christie's ear as she stares dreamily at the sleeping Bayman. Christie wipes grease from her freshly washed cheek and raises an eyebrow,
"What do you want?" She asks slowly, enunciating every word for emphasis and the woman swallows a large chunk of white meat and places her trough of a chicken bucket on the floor beside her hooves,
"Is he a friend of yours?" She points a stubby finger towards Bayman and Christie almost ponders the question, but the woman doesn't give her time to answer, "What's his name?"
"Ivan 'The Retarded', why?"
"Can I…sit next to him?" Christie turns her head to look at the dribbling mass sitting in the seat next to her and shrugs her shoulders, wondering why people have eyes if they refuse to use them. Christie doesn't answer, she simply stands up and waves the woman over, who practically leaps across the aisle to land beside the Russian.
Christie cringes as she looks down at the puddle of chicken grease and giblets in the woman's seat, and immediately regrets her choice. The giggling, glass wearing boy staring at her is simply the poison on top of the burned turbot.
"Close your face." Christie commands the pimply teenager with a tightened fist, but he only giggles and fixes his clip-on tie,
"I like your legs."
Christie covers her face with both hands and wipes them downwards, then turns her focus to the emergency exit on the western side of the plane. She would need rope to secure herself as not to be sucked out as well, if the movies are true any way. She taps her finger on her chin for a long moment, wondering if the plan would be successful or not, but decides against it.
"I'll tell you what, go to the water closet and sit down with your eyes closed. I'll come in shortly, but if you open your eyes, you won't get a…kiss." Christie explains and then sighs, knowing it'll never work to get rid of the runt, but he leaps from his seat, and like Wally West, speeds down the aisle and the 'occupied' sign bleeps on in less than three seconds. Christie snickers, but her diabolical, although sadly non-fatal plan is not yet concluded.
"You there." Christie points across the plane to a muscular tan skinned man with a goatee and two earrings, wearing a purple shirt that reads 'Gamecube Pwnz.'
"Me?" He asks in a quite feminine voice, gesturing lavishly with his well manicured hand which would put Helena's prissy self to shame.
"Yes. Judging by your shirt, you like boys. There's one waiting in the lavatory for you." The man's eyes widen in excitement and he claps his hands in delight and rushes towards the bathroom.
"Geez, I never thought match-making would be so strenuous." Christie wipes a drop of sweat from her forehead as Bayman's voice rings out in disgust,
"Match making? Woman, you promote WROOONNNGG love!" Christie spins to see Bayman rushing towards her, the large woman from before sprawled unconscious on the floor with a massive lump on top of her head.
"What did you do?" Christie asks, somewhat sympathetic for the downed pastoral creature.
"That beast was trying to stroke my nuts, woman!" Bayman demands furiously and Christie shakes her finger reproachfully,
"That's quite a lewd thing to say, Bayman."
"It's quite a lewd thing to do, damnit!" Bayman pulls his tube of Planter's Peanuts from his pocket and throws them to the ground in defiance, "I'm not eating these now!" Bayman wipes his mouth of moist crumbs and looks at his wristwatch,
"Neverthemore, I'm glad I woke. It's almost time we were going."
"What?" Christie asks through confusion, truly never hearing of Bayman's plan, other than the fact that it was imperative that they were on this flight to Okinawa.
"Well I'd…" Bayman looks around discreetly and moves closer to Christie's ear to whisper the rest, "…hijack the plane, but you know, with all that's going on nowadays, it didn't seem appropriate." Out of nowhere, Bayman holds two black and red parachutes into the air with a wide grin, "So we're jumping!"
"Oh, that's taking the piss!" Christie throws her hands into the air and Bayman shields his face frightened, "Up until now you've been a vague idiot, but this is simply absurd! I won't go another step!"
"So now you're going to be an Indian Giver?" Bayman asks angrily and Christie glares at him,
"Oh yea, it was the Native Americans that broke the deal, blame them why don't we."
"You and the Indians can complain about Americans over some tea on your own time! This is my time, and Russia, my dear, is number one!" Bayman spins around and crosses his arms obstinately and Christie must pocket her fists not to punch him in the back of his soccer-ball head.
"Where did you go to school, Bayman?" Christie asks, allowing the fire to leave her voice, and Bayman scowls and looks over his shoulder,
"I was an orphan!"
"And?" Christie asks and Bayman turns back around,
"I couldn't afford it selling Okroshka on the corner! What are you going to do, derate an uneducated orphan for the rest of the trip?" Christe actually begins to frown and is furious with herself for being tricked and by the time she digests the words 'rest of the trip', they are already in the undercarriage of the plane, looking down at the open sky.
"No, no, no, no, no!" Christie repeats, looking down at the white clouds and Bayman grins, looking over at her,
"Listen, if we jump now, we'll land right in center of the pool! Zack Island is pretty much directly below us!"
"Pretty much!" Christie asks, with a frustrated scowl, "If we land in water, won't we get tangled in our chutes? Won't we drown?" Bayman scratches his head and shakes his head slowly,
"Nah."
"You are the most—" Christie's words are ripped away as she is sent screaming from the plane, the wind streaming passed her face as moisture developes in her wide eyes. He pushed her! "Bayman, I swear if I land, IF I land, I'm going to donate your head to MLS!"
"Just focus on the task at hand, dearest!" Bayman yells from behind and Christie shuts her eyes tightly,
"An assassin has no fear, an assassin has no fear, an assassin has no fear, terror has no effect, hesitation is negated in all factors of the kill, an assassin has no fear!" Christie screams the last line of her training as a loud splash of water takes her breathe away.