by Prometheus
The light reflected with a white sheen off the pristine metal hull of the chartered Concorde, the jet screaming five thousand miles above the Atlantic at something near Mach 4. Inside the cockpit, veteran pilot James Hoffman clicked a few switches, checking the altitude, while his co-pilot, Allan Crowley, adjusted the autopilot setting.
"One hour, twenty minutes," Hoffman commented, leaning back a bit in his seat.
"I hate these private hops we have to take," Crowley replied, glancing in his direction.
"You're in the wrong business, Al," Hoffman said, shaking his head. "You should be flying commercial."
"Only if I can have a gun. Fucking committee," he breathed with annoyance.
"That's why I do this," James said. "No suprises. No events. Just pleasant, short flights, with rich, boring passengers."
The door opened a bit, the lone flight attendant sticking her head in. "Anything to drink, guys?" Dana asked, her blonde locks complimenting the turquoise outfit.
"No thanks," Hoffman said.
"Coke, please, Dana," Al said, smiling.
"Sure, Al," she said, smiling back.
As she left, Hoffman glanced over at Crowley. "Not in a million years are you going to get her," he smirked.
"Who says I haven't already?" Al asked, a wide smile adorning.
James just shook his head. "Man, your wife would KILL you if she knew--" He suddenly cut off, the door opening again.
Dana handed Al his drink, their eyes meeting with a hidden familiarity. "Thanks Dana," he replied, as she turned to leave.
"How's our passengers?" Hoffman asked, gazing out over the beautiful cloud cover.
Dana stood for a moment, contemplating her response. "Umm... odd," she finally admitted.
Back in the spacious passenger cabin, Tobias Christopher wrestled with his new outfit, tightening the black straps along specially made boots. "Nice tread," he commented to himself, admiring the off-metal, half-rubber tread along the bottom heels.
Pete Glover studied his outfit, still in his lap, with a quizzical eye. "Ah don't know," he said to Tobias, "this isn't feelin' likes me at all, heh?"
Tobias winced. "Smells like a bath isn't feelin' likes ya, either!" he waved at his nose.
"Ahhhh..." Pete cocked an eyebrow, never losing that jolly look in his eye. "I'll haves ya know I tooks a bath no more'n three days ago, I did."
"Where? A mud puddle?" Tobias replied drolly.
"Tobias," Danny Hearn said curtly. "Cut it out."
Pete waved his hand dismissively at Danny, with a wide smile. "Don'tcha be goin' and worryin' over me's and Tobias, now, Danny," he laughed, slapping T.C. on the back. "That b'y gots th' streets in 'im, is all. Same as me. Nuthin' wrong with that, heh?"
Tobias just stared at Danny, a low-yield hostile gleam in his eye. "What's wrong, Hearn? Am I kicking your favorite puppy?" he asked, a hint of challenge to his tone.
Danny just scowled, staring back at him. "Don't run that tough guy act with me, Christopher," he replied very evenly. "I won't tolerate your asinine whining and melodrama."
"Yeah?!" T.C. asked, getting a bit agitated. "How about I shove it up your ass and make you like it?"
Pete grabbed T.C. by the shoulder, restraining him as he was leaning closer and closer, with every word, toward Danny. Danny didn't flinch or change expressions in the least, staring him down like a statue.
"Naw, naw," Pete said, shaking his head calmly. "We's all on the same team, heh, T.C.? No needs to be getting miffed and popped over nuttin'."
Tobias finally sat back in a huff, folding his arms. He stared purposefully out the window. "I could have run there by now," he commented to no one.
Pete just gave Danny a wink and a smile, turning to engross T.C. in conversation. The soul of an angel, the body of a vagrant, Dan thought kindly, admiring Pete's nature. He casually got up, his new leather outfit squeaking with every step toward the back cabin.
"Dammit, Kit," he breathed with annoyance, the words Animal Man still burning into his soul with indignity.
Naecken sat perfectly still, eyes glazed open and ahead. His breath came at staggered intervals, as he seemed oblivious to his surroundings. He was sitting quietly in one of the back seats, as he had been for a while now.
"Meditating?" Danny asked, pausing by his spot.
Naecken said nothing, frozen like a statue.
"Naecken?" Danny asked, raising his eyebrows. "You alive in there?"
A low rasp of breath slowly came forth, as if the man was just starting to breathe again. He didn't move nor change his expression a bit. But his lips parted ever-so-slightly.
"Naecken... is... not... here... right... now... please... leave... a... message... beep..."
Danny just stared at him for a minute, then, turning toward the secondary cabin, just decided to act like that had never happened.