Heroes of The Collective Volume One : Resentment

1. Agwé #1 The Origin Part 1 : SOS

The Jones household, England. April 4th, 1939.
The atmosphere in the dining room was mainly celebratory but an air of sadness lingered around the table. Kimona, her mother and father and two sisters took up five of the six seats around the table, a feast arranged down the middle with the plates full.

"A toast, to dear Kimona," her Dad declared, raising his glass. Looking across at her he continued, "Becoming a pilot myself filled me with such pride, but that has been rightly trumped by the pride that fills me seeing you take to the skies and achieve what you have," he paused to compose himself and placed his hand on his wife's before finishing. "To take on this challenge impresses your mother and I beyond belief. Cheers!"

The family raised their glasses- wine that the parents were drinking and a soft sparkling apple alternative for Kimona and her sisters. Kimona pushed her chair back and went over to her parents, draping each arm around them, pulling them in for a hug.

Remaining behind them, she had something she wanted to say to them. "Mum, Dad, I love you both so much. And it's because of that love that I can take the risk to try and break this record!" Kimona allowed her mum to get up, and braced her for a hug.

"We are so proud of you. I just wish you were taking a co-pilot. It's such a long way by yourself."

"Mum, I need to do it without a co-pilot. That's what a solo is. That's how I earn the record," countered Kimona, placing her hands on her mother's face.

"Sweetie, Kimona is more than ready. She is prepared. What happened to Amelia Earheart was just awful luck. But Kimona can do this, like many others before her," Kimona's father assured.

Raising a glass to drink from, Kimona teased her mum with an exaggerated shrug, "besides, even if I did crash, having a co-pilot won't help me- it'd just be another thing to worry about!"

"Hmm, thanks. Very reassuring, Kimona Jones!"

***

In a TV studio somewhere in Florida. 2029.

"And we're live in three... two... one," The titles were cued and papers rustled. For effect. Hank was all about effect. There was nothing even written on the papers.

"Good morning and welcome back. It's seven fifteen a.m. on March 19th, 2029 here in sunny, warm Florida. We have some breaking news if you're just waking up," and with that, he turned dramatically to his co-anchor.

"That's right Hank. We are getting unconfirmed reports suggesting that the entire crew of the USS Birmingham have vanished. We are waiting for more on this, but it's concerning all the same," Monica, the co-anchor explained, pushing her hair back behind her ear.

Hank, who had turned to face Monica, turned back to the camera. "Indeed, Monica. This news comes as a spate of missing person reports have recently increased in the area and our nearby neighbours in the Caribbean, but a whole military boat crew?" Hank leaned back in his chair and scratched his head as if taking personal responsibility for solving it. "But before that," he leaned forward and turned to a different camera, "a special report from the Everglades about a study into the communication between mating crocodiles. I think I must be married to a crocodile- all she does is snap at me!" he exaggeratedly clapped his hands in joy at his own lame joke, checking to see Monica's reaction.

The camera crew comedically groaned. She sighed, burying her head in her hands but did manage a chuckle. For effect. Monica was a fan of effect too. It's what won them their two awards and endeared them to their community.

"Yeah, I love you too sweetie," she said, pretending to hit him with her script. Turning back to the camera like the pro she was, she announced, "Our special report comes from Mandy Walters."

***

The USS Birmingham was anchored off the coast of Florida with a plethora of military and coastguard activity, both on sea and in the air. The sight could be seen from land, where news crews were setting camp on the beaches.
Some distance away, on a quieter stretch of beach, the torn and shredded remains of a life boat washed with the gentle tide.