Disclaimer: Everything Red Eye belongs to Wes Craven, so don't sue me. I have no money.

Prologue

Jackson Rippner lay alone in the small dark hospital room. He had been banished for the past three weeks to room 4080 (The irony that he had to stay in that room caused him to laugh, which made the nurses think him to be crazy), slowly recooperating from his injures. Injures he had received from Lisa Riesert and her father.

Jackson's room was small, and empty. The only occupant of the room was Jackson himself, who lay uncomfortably on the hospital bed. No one had sent him any flowers or cards. That thought made Jackson snort. As if anyone would send him flowers. Him, Jackson Rippner, the man who managed assassinations. It would be a cold day in hell before anyone wished him to get well.

One thing Jackson did not like was failure, and yet, he had done just that. He had failed. He had failed to get Keefe assassinated, and he had failed to keep Lisa Reisert under control. It's not as if he hadn't tried. He was honestly surprised that someone like Lisa Reisert had almost managed to kill him.

Jackson shifted on his bed uncomfortably, his hand shooting up to scratch at his neck. His throat was covered in a layer of bandages, bandages hat hid the spot where he had been stabbed with a pen.

Who knew that a pen could cause so much damage? He wouldn't have admitted it, but every time he saw a pen he would inwardly flinch. He had to laugh at his behavior. He, the cold hearted assassination manager, had been brought to this.

The bandages covering his stab wound was itching his skin underneath, and it was starting to drive him crazy. He roughly ripped the bandages off and sighed in content as the cool air met his neck, the itching disappearing instantly. He knew he would be getting an ear full in the morning from the tubby nurse who, unfortunately, took care of him every day. This was the fifth time he was undone his bandages. He could practically hear her high pitched screaming. How he would just love to take his KA-BAR and stick it right into her...

The creek of a door echoed through the room, almost deafening in the still quietness of the room, shaking Jackson out of his wonderful thoughts. He turned his head to the side as the door squeaked further open, his cold blue eyes searching for whoever had interrupted his self misery.

"Well, well, well. Jackson Rippner. Oh, how the mighty have fallen," said a man. He stepped out from the shadows and leaned up against the door frame, sneering at Jackson.

Jackson glared at the man, recognizing him instantly. If he remembered correctly, the man's name was Raymond. He worked for the company who had hired Jackson to manage the assassination of Keefe.

Jackson glared at the man, causing Raymond to flinch. Though he was virtually helpless, stuck in this godforsaken hospital, Jackson Rippner was still able to strike fear into his enemy's. He took a small amount of pride in this.

"What do you want?" Jackson rasped out. His throat was dry, but the pen wound had made his voice seem harsher than his usual tone.

"They're mad, Jack," Raymond drawled out as he pushed off the wall and inched closer to the hospital bed.

Jackson clinched his fist at the use of his nickname, causing Raymond to smirk.

"You failed, Rippner," Raymond continued. "They're not happy with you at all."

"Not my problem," Jackson hissed.

"Oh, but it is. I don't think you understand, "Raymond laughed. "If you make it out of here alive, you will not have the luxury of spending the rest of your life in jail. You failed your job, and you're going to pay for it with your life."

Raymond decided to say no more, enjoying the someone confused look on Jacksons face. He quickly turned around and made his exit, leaving Jackson alone once more.

Honestly, Jackson was not surprised that they would have wanted him dead after he had failed the mission. He was, however, offended that they had to send one of their lower members to tell him. Did they think he was stupid.

Jackson sighed softly and settled into his bed, trying to get comfortable. He lay his head down on his pillow, and let sleep take over his body, a smile on his face as his last bit of consciousness slipped away.

- - -

A/N: This story came to me in a dream . . . actually, more like a day dream that I was having in the middle of Algebra II. I'm not the best writer in the world, so if there are any problems don't hesitate to point it out to me.

Honestly, I have not scene the movie Red Eye. GASP! I know? How crazy is that? I have, however, read a few reviews and gotten the movie explained to me in great detail by some friends. Mostly all I know about the movie has come from all the fan fics that I have read.

Anyways, this chapter was kind of short, but I just wanted to write something small that would set up the rest of the story. Hope you enjoy it.

p.s. Review, and I won't tell the assassin I have stationed outside of your house to kill you. 'Kay?