Chapter 10: Catch... Once More, With Feeling

"You're late," Eva said as Tyler walked in the door.

"Sorry mom, but I have a really good reason." Tyler explained.

Eva could see it in his eye. "You were with a girl, huh? Was she cute? Did you guys kiss?"

"Uh mom, I'm not one–" Tyler began, but was then cut off by the TV.

"We have breaking news out of San Francisco International Airport. We go out there live to reporter Trisha Takinawa. Trisha?"

"Yes, I'm here at the international terminal where we've just been informed that a United Airlines flight from Hong Kong has just suffered from an unknown engine problem. United officials haven't told us much, but we do know that it's United Airlines flight 293, about 70 miles out over the Paci–"

"My God, those poor people," Eva gasped as her gazed locked to the television. She then looked up, only to find Tyler was gone.

Tyler sprinted down the street with his arms out to his sides.

"It's go time!" he shouted, transforming him into Magna Man.

With that, he leapt into the air, his right arm tucked close to his body, while his left fist was straight out, punching through the night. His cape flapped in the night as he turned westward and headed out over the open ocean.. Gotta get there fast, he thought. He panned the area and sure enough, just up ahead, he saw a large gray and dark blue object. On the side, in bold white lettering, was United Airlines.

"There's our bird. Hmm, a Boeing 747," he said to no one in particular.

Just then, he saw a bright flash as one of the jet's four engines exploded.

"Good God," he gasped and he rocketed towards the ailing jet.

"The captain and co-pilot struggled with the controls. Sweat poured off their foreheads and they strained with the throttles and control yoke.

"Sir! Engines two and three are out. We're losing–" The co-pilot started to say

A violent shudder rocket the massive Boeing airliner and the plane began to bank hard to the right. The cockpit audible cockpit warning of "whoop whoop... pull up" blared.

"Oh shit," the captain cursed under his breath, knowing those were the last words of most pilots.

In the cabin, people screamed as they saw a bright flash outside as fire engulfed one of the four engines. Some began to pray for a miracle, others cried, while some stayed eerily calm, coming to terms with their fate. Loose items started to float as the plane went into a dive headed for the black waters of the Pacific Ocean.

Back in the cockpit, the two flight officers pulled back on the throttle, idling the one remaining engine, and tried to pull up. There was no response as the engine explosion damaged the hydraulic lines used to control the jet.

"Captain, there's something on radar coming towards us. Fast as out twelve." the co-pilot warned.

Through the night, he could see the lights of the San Francisco Bay area. So close, yet so far, he thought to himself. He started to make his peace, realizing that nothing would save him, or the 340 other souls on board. Suddenly, something just outside caught his eye, as if it was black moving upon black. He could have sworn he just heard a voice saying, hang on. Help's on the way.

Suddenly, something felt different. Everyone on board felt it. The plane was slowing down. The captain took a look at the mechanical gauges, as the electric ones went out an hour ago. The airspeed indicator was dropping and dropping rapidly. There rate of descent was also slowing.

"Sir? What's going on?" the co-pilot asked, shaking.

"Hell if I know. I think... I think it's a miracle..." The captain responded.

With everything Tyler had, Tyler got in front of the plane, place his back on the nose of the 240 foot long jet, and literally pushed. He could see the ocean coming up fast and at the speed the Boeing 747 was going, it would disintegrate on impact.

"Come on, slow down now," He grunted through teeth clenched so hard that he felt they would shatter.

The piercing whine of the plane's remaining engine as well as the force of the wind on his masked face was giving him a headache. His muscles started to get sore as if they were ripping clean off his bones. Gradually, he slithered his body lower onto the massive jet's fuselage and positioned himself just in front of the doors for the nose wheel landing gear.

Tyler could feel the spray of salt water mist hit his body. They were getting close to the water.

"Aaagh!" He roared with determination.

With every little bit of will, strength, and hope, he forced the plane to level off, barely above the white capped waves. Tyler willed for a little more, and was rewarded as the lumbering jet's nose began to rise. Altitude was soon gained between the aircraft and the ocean.

"Thank you, Jesus," Tyler breathed knowing that it wasn't just him that stopped this plane from crashing.

Inside the cabin, there was absolute silence, except for the soothing tone of the last engine. All 325 passengers looked out of the nearest window, noticing that their plane was no longer in a stomach lurching dive. They were, however, very low to the surface as ocean waves were visible just below the wings of the plane.

"Sir? Are we down?" The co-pilot asked, not realizing what was going on.

The captain opened his eyes. He had been praying, not for him, but so that someone would watch over his wife, kids, and grandchildren. If what he thought was really happening, he would get to go home and see them again. The captain put on his headset, his hands shaking.

"San Francisco approach? This is United Two Niner Three, requesting emergency landing clearance."

There was a momentary lapse, but San Francisco tower finally responded. "United Two Niner three, you are cleared for emergency landing on runway of your choice."

A feeling of relief washed over the two flight officers.

"United Two Niner Three, cleared for landing, good day." The captain announced.

Tyler managed to coerce the 600,000 pound tube of metal, fiberglass, wiring, and people up to five thousand feet. He focused in on a sequence of strobe lights, guiding him forward–runway landing lights.

"Here comes the fun part," he said to himself as he muscled the plane to the right, lining it up with runway 10 Left–the longest of San Francisco International's cris-crossing runways.

Apparently, the pilots up above caught the notion as Tyler noticed the landing gear bay doors split open, letting the many wheels that made up the 747's landing gear drop into position and lock in place. Briefly, he took a look behind him. All the wheels were down, but the flaps on the wings were still in the up position, and the plane needed the flaps to slow down.

"Guess I'll have to do this the tough way," he muttered.

Tyler forced the nose of the jet slightly upwards, known as flaring. The plane began to slow as well as descend. As if he had a built in head's up display, A series of digital figures showing Tyler's relative speed and height scrolled onto his retina.

"Hmm, didn't know I could do that. Just another perk of being strange I guess, he thought aloud, though he couldn't really hear himself over the engine noise and wind.

On his retina's he could see that he, along with the plane, were traveling at around 180 miles per hour. Tyler made a few "minor" adjustments, making sure the jet was aligned with the runway center hash marks. Soon, the gigantic 10L, indicating the runway rocketed right under. The runway lights

"Fifty feet," the co-pilot called out. "Forty... thirty... twenty. Speed, two hundred knots and falling. Ten feet... five.. four... three... two..."

The plane shook violently as the wheels touched down on the asphalt of runway 10 left, leaving a trail of smoke from the rough connection.. The captain pulled a lever adjacent to the throttles, activating the spoiler air brakes.

Nothing happened.

The runway was over two miles long, but with the plane's speed, they would sail right off the end and into the bay just beyond the threshold.

"How are we gonna stop this ailing bird?" he wondered aloud.

"Captain! Look, out front. Is that... what the hell is that?" The co-pilot cried, noticing something, or someone, pressed onto the nose of the craft.

The captain did notice something. It looked like–hair. The top of someone's head.

Tyler used his flight and strength to get in front of the jet. He planted his hands into the smooth skin of the wide body jumbo jet, planted them, then pushed with all his might. He would have went under the plane and dug his feet into the hard surface, but that would destroy the runway and render the airport useless for a good while.

He gritted his teeth once more and the veins in his neck began to well up, bursting though his skin. He out his head down ad shut his eyes.

"Stop now," he shouted. "Stop!"

With that, the plane slowed dramatically, then stopped.

"A perfect landing,'said wearily, then dropped about 15 feet to the ground below and lay there, completely worn out and zapped of energy.

The doors and emergency exits to the plane shot open. The inflatable yellow escape slides draped to the ground below, and people began to pour out of the jet. Fire trucks, police vehicles, ambulances, and news vans raced up and surrounded the 241 foot long jet. The passengers and crew of United flight 293 then noticed a figure laying lifeless on the runway.

"Sir? Is that..." the co-pilot started to ask.

Before the captain, or anyone else could say anything, the black costumed, caped, and masked figure mustered, the stood up, breathing hard.

"D-did you... I mean, were you the one who saved us? The captain asked.

The black and silver garmented figure nodded.

"I'd better go before the news people get here." Tyler said, then looked up at the plane, then back at the captain. "She a dash four-hundred?"

The captain nodded, still somewhat in shock.

"Nice bird. I'm gonna be honest though, my personal favorite airliner's the triple seven. Well'p, take care," Tyler gave a curt two fingered salute.

Before he could take off, the captain held him on the shoulder. "Wait. How can we ever thank you. The lives of all of us are–"

"You'll never have to thank me. I'm just doing what's right."

With that, Tyler gracefully vaulted into the night sky and flew away.

"Magna Man! Wait! Can't we get an interview?" the dozens upon dozens of news officials and camera crew called out as he soared away back towards town.

Raven talked with Chelsea on the phone, expecting her to be sad and broken. She was shocked, however, to hear her upbeat.

"So your date with Ben went good?" she asked.

"Oh, he never showed up." Chelsea informed over the phone.

"Then why are you in such a good mood?" Raven inquired.

Chelsea hesitated for a moment, then explained. "I was with Tyler. I was sad that Ben was a no-show, then Tyler wiped my tears and he was awkward, but in that cute kind of way then we played catch and I pitched my 'organic cheese' fastball and it left a bruise so I kissed–"

"Whoa! You and Tyler kissed? How was it?" Raven asked, her mind flooding with questions.

"No, no. I kissed his hand. You know, to make it feel better." Chelsea corrected.

"Oh."

"Anyway, we then watched the sunset from the baseball field, and he took me for some ice cream and we talked for a couple hours."

"About?"

"Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Um... stuff stuff–Oh my gosh. Rae, you've gotta turn on the news, quick." Chelsea ordered.

"What channel?" Raven asked, then wondered, why the news, anyway.

"Any channel. Just do it!"

"Alright, alright, dang."

Raven grabbed the remote to her television and sure enough, the news was on. On the screen, it read "Miracle At SFO." There was a grainy amateur footage video of a plane, a big plane. The video then zoomed in and focused on the front of the jet. Pushing on the front of the plane was a figure wearing all black–Magna Man.

"Rae? You there? Raven?"

"Yeah, Chelse. I'm still here."

"This is amazing. He literally caught that plane and saved all those people."

Raven kept her eyes glued to the tv. The video now switched from the grainy footage, to a professional shot of all the passengers, crew, and pilots briefly conversing with Magna, who then flew off before any of the news crews could interview him.

"Well, at least he seems to be modest... and kinda shy," Raven shrugged.

Tyler double-timed it back home. Just before he could land, his powers deactivated–while he was still thirty feet up.

"Oh great," he groaned as he floated momentarily before free falling and landing in the oak tree in the neighbor's yard.

"Oh man, this isn't good," as he checked his surroundings, realizing this was the Mendoza's back yard.

The Mendoza's were nice people, but their dog, Cookie, was another story. Under the tree, Cookie's dog house–large enough for three Tyler's to fit in with room–sat, and sure enough, Cookie, a three hundred pound St. Bernard, emerged showing her teeth and globules of drool dripping from her mouth.

"Stay Cookie. Good girl, good Cookie." Tyler hoped.

Cookie began to growl. She then advanced on his position. Tyler went into a crouch and began to imitate the "Crocodile Hunter" Steve Irwin.

"Crikey! You're a lil' beaut aren't you. Woo!" Tyler spoke in a horrible fake Australian accent. "Oh you're a naughty one, eh?"

Cookie began to bark loudly, then bolted after Tyler.

"No Cookie that's a bad Cookie!" Tyler cried, racing for the fence.

In a single bound, he vaulted over the fence dividing the Mendoza's yard, from his. He landed flat on his back, narrowly missing mom's chrysanthemums. If he crushed those, he'd be more than dead. Tyler got up, brushed himself off, and quietly walked though the back door, hoping mom was asleep.

"Where the hell have you been?" Eva demanded to know. "And what happened to your hair–" she got up from her seat at the kitchen table and pulled him down by the scruff of his shirt so their eyes were level–"and when'd your eyes turn green?"

"Uh... my friend, Raven, made me one of her fashion guinea pigs. You know, she's been watching that 'Queer Eye For The Straight Guy' and I guess she was influenced." Tyler tried to explain.

"Oh. Is Raven the girl you were hanging out with earlier?" Eva asked in a probing manner.

"N-n-no."

"Well did this girl give you that necklace your wearing?" Eva grilled.

"This?" Tyler said, holding the stones in the pal of his hand. "No, I... found it." he said, then muttered under his breath so his mom couldn't hear, "More like it found me. And I'm glad it did."