Origins- Protectors

Chapter Twelve: Nemesis Pt2

Jones Blakk had just left the meeting room. The mysterious boss who had been controlling him and Carter before the latter had gone to jail had made another correct prediction. He stated that an advanced piece of telepathic technology had been stolen by the mole. Grumbling, Jones had gone to check the SCD archives in Washington DC. Currently, he was waiting in the pre flight lounge, enjoying a cup of coffee and a slice of carrot cake. Between sips of his hot brew, Jones found himself remembering his days as an 'analyst'. In reality, he was not an analyst. Of course, that was the official name for what he was, but not even the president was allowed to know what he had done. There was no unofficial name for his squadron. If there was, then an enemy force could see them coming. Jones' fondest memory of his years as an 'analyst' was his first mission. The mission report was written shakily by the commanding officer, who had "never seen a man slay an entire army." A couple of young men walked towards Jones, and he could tell by their movements that they were in the army,

"Mind if we have a seat?" The blonde guy, who was slightly taller, asked,

"Not at all," Jones replied cordially,

"Thank you for your service, sir," the other man replied in a strong Boston accent, "Where'd you serve?"

"Oh, you know, a bit of here, a bit of there, what about you two?" Jones asked, sipping his coffee and pretending to listen,

The overhead speakers called out a flight number, the robotic voice echoing around the near-empty lounge,

"That's our flight," the dark-haired man said, "See you around, Mr?" He paused, not knowing the name of his acquaintance,

"Blakk, Jones Blakk," 

Jones continued to sip at his coffee, enjoying the rich aroma and flavour, until, inevitably, his flight was open to boarding. On his way through the security measures, he saw a man slip the border control a package, and continue on, around the metal detector. Jones kept an eye on the man, noting his shaky movements, slumped posture, and bulky winter clothing on the fine Australian evening. Jones knew instantly that this man was a terrorist, and the only terror organisation that targeted Western Australia was NightHawk. Despite having a comfortable business-class seat, Jones offered to trade his place with a single flyer who possessed an aisle seat,

"There's no way this is real," the young woman said cautiously,

"I'm a YouTube influencer," Jones replied, appealing to the woman's knowledge,

"I'll check,"

The two walked slowly to the front desk, checking in with the attendant,

"Is this ticket real?" the woman asked,

After a few seconds of fumbling and a loud beep, the attendant confirmed the ticket's viability, the traveller and Jones exchanging tickets. The woman got on ahead of Jones, as business class was allowed on before the other classes, counting her lucky stars, something she would do once again when she discovered Jones' plan. While the plane was boarding, Jones kept his eye on the shady character, smiling to himself when the man went to the back of the plane. A rookie mistake, the man obviously wanted to make an entrance, but Jones knew better. If you are going to hijack a plane, you do not want to start from the back, there could be someone in the toilet who could jump you if they caught wind what you were doing. After a smooth takeoff, Jones stood, slowly walking along the aisle towards the toilets. He bumped into the suspicious man, tripping over,

"Apologies," 

The man glared back. Jones stood once more, and finished his trek to the bathroom, running through his mental notes of the situation. The man had a single revolver, complete with seven rounds and a blank. Jones was grateful, as a bomb would be immensely difficult for him to deal with. Jones sat on the toilet, ignoring the knocks of other passengers, until, finally, after a few hours, he heard the gunshot.