Date: August 11th, 2020
Location: Yellow Sea
(37.1679195, 124.4801905)
International waters
Bearing: 199.0, at 15 knots
Vessel: South Korean presidential Yacht
Occupants: South Korean President Moon Jae-in, wife, and staff. (Host)
Chinese special ambassador [restricted] and 5 aids (diplomatic guest)
Japanese special ambassador [restricted] and 4 aids (diplomatic guest)
Australian special ambassador [restricted] and 6 aids (diplomatic guest)
TWICE, Korean girl group, and 10 staff. (Performing)
Total: 49
Time: 21:09
"I'm not sure what you expect to happen here. You're not in a good position." President Moon says, to the man with a gun pointed at his face. The man, along with his twenty two companions, had boarded a few minutes after the boat entered international waters, and had since cut off all communications, and sailed away.
"I think a bullet has a good position in your face!" The man yells, irritated. President Moon had been continually trying to deescalate the situation, to little avail. It had been nearly two hours now, of nervous silence and occasional arguments, with no progress made toward who the hijackers were or their goals. They had already shot and killed six guards who were in the dining room, and probably the other six outside of it. Only two people were wounded, an Australian and a Japanese aid who had tried to fight them early on. The crew was somewhere else, although no one in the dining room was sure. But the remaining diplomats and SK government personelle, along with the Kpop group, made up 40 people hostage to the 6 guards they had. But automatic weapons evened those odds. They had come aboard hidden by the sound of the performance, and had taken the bridge immediately to avoid signals being sent. Unless someone noticed the silence; nobody was coming to help.
Location:
(37.1679195, 124.4801905)
Altitude: 28,000 feet
It's a funny thing, air. Sometimes it's like nothing. Sometimes, it's like water. Sometimes, it's your best friend, others, our enemy.
Altitude: 27,000 feet
I guess it's easy to muse when it's the only thing around for miles. That, and my team. They're still there, right?
Altitude: 26,000 feet
Yeah, there they are. Not too close; not too far. Just how I like it. You'd assume after all of our training they'd know the drill, but it never hurts to check.
Altitude: 25,000 feet
People, and air. Change fast, and yet move slow. Or maybe they move fast and change slow. Feels like when you want them to do one, they do the other.
Altitude: 24,000 feet
One thing is for sure, humans usually don't whistle this loud. I'm really regretting skipping the full helmet, but it's always so bulky once you land.
Altitude: 23,000 feet
I don't want to lug a big metal and plastic bowl around when I'm trying to work; it's awkward.
Altitude: 22,000 feet
Speed is picking up. I should adjust, I'm slipping too far north.
Altitude: 21,000 feet
Ok, turned around, sliding south. I'm starting to get through clouds now. Cirrostratus, I think.
Altitude: 20,000 feet
I hate clouds. So annoying.
Altitude: 19,000 feet
Okay; let's do another gear check. Forearms, good. Upper arms, good.
Altitude: 18,000 feet
Shoulders, good. Head; good.
Altitude: 17,000 feet
Chest, good. Back, good.
Altitude: 16,000 feet
Finally, clear of clouds. Thighs, good.
Altitude: 15,000 feet
Calves, Good. Boots, good. That's all the armor.
Altitude: 14,000 feet
Ok, next clouds are visible; Nimbostratus. I hate that I have these memorized, why did they have to give me all this useless info.
Altitude: 13,000 feet
Clouds are clouds, and stormy clouds are different. What does it matter if they're named different stuff?
Altitude: 12,000 feet
More of this shit, can't see again. I'm flying right through it, so I don't care what it's name is
Altitude: 11,000 feet
Man, clouds at night are dark. It was still a little light up at 28K, but I guess we fell below the light. Bummer.
Altitude: 10,000 feet
Ok, time to slow down. Roll over, and gesture the team to spread the wings.
Altitude: 9,000 feet
Finally, no more clouds. And, I see the lights of the target. Only thing you can see on an all-black sea.
Altitude: 8,000 feet
Speed is slowing, no longer at terminal velocity. That's handy. Saves me from breaking my neck.
Altitude: 7,000 feet
Ok, this is where a safe person would open their chute. But is that me? No. Never.
Altitude: 6,000 feet
Now, is where a normal person opens it. But again, not me. I like speed. Although I'm currently slowing down with air resistance.
Altitude: 5,000 feet
Here's where an adventurous person would open their chute. And while that does describe me, I'm a little high for my taste. And for radar detection risk.
Altitude: 4,000 feet
See, this is a daredevil altitude. But I like to keep things consistent, so that isn't me. Keep waiting.
Altitude: 3,000 feet
That's more like it. See you soon.
Altitude: 2,000 feet
(Sound: parachute deploying)
The man who's in charge of hostages stands over an aid, looking down in disgust. The Australian had thrown up from stress after his anxiety disorder had gotten the better of him, and was looking disheveled. Meanwhile, the pirate, in his dark gray outfit and black tactical vest, is clearly off put and annoyed by this exhibition of what he thinks is weakness. The lights flicker a few times, and he glances up. No reason for the lights to flicker, he thinks to himself. No storms, or electrical issues. Perhaps a ship's crew member sabotaged something? Well, either way, the ship handlers they brought on would handle it. Not his job to sail this thing. He kicks the Australian's feet back out of the walkway, and strolls back down the row of lined-up people. They preferred to use guns instead of ropes to keep them in place, as it would make it easier to transfer them later.
Suddenly, everything goes black. One of the Chinese delegates screams, shocked or maybe scared. He turns to yell at her, but before he can, everything seems to turn on its head. The large door to the aft of the ship is kicked open, and the hiss and clatter of silenced gunshots slips out. The leader of the pirates turns, seeing who's there, but fails to react fast enough. The last thing that goes through his head is a 11 Millimeter bullet. As he falls to the ground, shouts are heard in numerous languages; calling for everyone to stay down. Flashlights are put on, as the four men advance across the room, checking the pirates for movement. They lower their guns, then start ushering everyone. One steps forward out of the group, and starts to speak.
"Alright, everyone up. On my word, we go out the doors and towards the back of the ship to the helipad. Be fast and quiet, save your questions for later. Bravo, you lead on my mark." As they stand, he speaks into his radio. "Charlie, we good?" He nods a moment later, clearly having heard a response. "Good." He walks to the door, and pulls out his rifle again. "Go!" He says quietly, and two of the soldiers lead off; with trails of people running after they as the men move rapidly across the deck, checking every hall and corner. He follows behind, glancing around to ensure they aren't followed, and aren't being snuck up on. After a tense twenty seconds they reach the aft of the ship, standing in a cluster on the helicopter pad. The man lowers his gun once again, and walks up to President Moon. "President Moon. I need your permission to destroy this boat." The shaken politician nods.
"Whatever you have to do." The soldier smirks.
"Have to is a strong word. But yes." Turning; he waves a hand, and two more identically dressed solders drop down from the upper balcony.
"Evac should be here in less than one." He nods, and draws two sidearms, aiming them at the halls leading to the deck. Suddenly, the sound of helicopters start to grow, as the chopping of rotors rapidly approaches. Glancing behind them, the group sees the sudden flash of light as seven helicopters appear from the darkness. The five transports slow, pulling back as they move to pick up the numerous civilians. The other two, gunships, break off to each side as they flank the ship. As soon as the move past the landing pad they open fire, cris-crossing the ship with machine gun fire and turning the entire body of the boat to Swiss cheese. The group at the back is guided by the soldiers onto the helicopters, scrambling up rope ladders as they hover just above the deck. At last, the leader climbs up the ladder onto the last transport, filled by the Kpop group and a ship staff member, and radios for the squadron to leave. The helicopters begin to fly away, as the gun ships fire rockets into the engine of the ship, sending it on a slow decent to the bottom of the ocean.
Sana sits at the edge of the open helicopter door, watching the dark ocean go by. The small amount of light from the helicopter search light illuminates the whitecaps of small frothing waves below, stretching off to the infinite darkness. The safety harness kept her from going any closer, but she could sit just off from the side, gazing out. Suddenly the step of a boot clomps down next to her, as the solder stands over her shoulder.
"Enjoying the view?" He asks. She nods.
"It's pleasant." He nods in response. He sits down next to her, armor clanking on the metal floor as the wind brushes against her hair. He reaches into his belt and pulls off a canteen, taking a sip. Then, he hands it to her. She takes a drink, feeling rather thirsty as she swallows the warm water inside. She slakes her thirst, before handing it back. He puts it away, and looks back out at the darkness. The dark sea air brushing past the aircraft is cold, especially for May. Although she doesn't realize, the intense situation she's escaped has Sana feeling not only cold, but vulnerable. She moves closer to the stranger next to her, resting a shoulder against him as she shivers from the cold air. He glances at her for a moment, before placing an arm around her, rubbing her other arm as she starts to warm herself against his heat. She looks up into his eyes, their steely grey-green shining in the moonlight reflected off the sea below. She can't see anything else of him, his head covered by a helmet and his face by a mask. His eyes are visible, though- cold, but kind. Resting her head on his shoulder, her tiredness starts to overtake her as she starts to quickly drift off to sleep. The last thing she remembers is just the soft feeling of a jacket being placed over her, before she slips into serenity.
A/N-
No promises.
If you want to read some preceding lore, I have some stuff on my Tumblr that's related to this. Be careful, my tumblr also has smut related stuff.