20:38

2: Sky Crusaders

"Ma'am, what would you like to eat?" a flight attendant asks me. We're around four hours into the flight at this point, and I hadn't realized how starving I was until the lady offered me something.

"I'll have chicken and dumplings," I say, defaulting to my favorite food out of laziness because who would go out of their way to ask what the people have when you can just ask 

"Miss Elana, I'm afraid we no longer have chicken and dumplings. Your mother demanded that we remove it, and we must follow her orders, so, as such, we removed it."

"That stupid- why would she- ugh, whatever," I sigh, "I don't blame you, she can be scary as crap and you're just trying to do your job. What other options do you have available?"

"Vegetable soup, beans, and oysters," says the flight attendant, giving me an apologetic look. I groan. "Oh, and salad!" she says, looking a little happier. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"I'll have the soup," I say, chewing my lip in distaste whilst thinking about the wide variety of barf-worthy vegetables that must be in it. The flight attendant sets a bowl down beside me. It has a cover over it and I can see the bubbles of condensation sticking to the top. Hah, there's no way I'm eating THAT. I'd rather starve.

~time skip~

"SHUT UP!" My head automatically turns at the noise, bright blue hair obstructing my view for one or two milliseconds. I begin to walk down the aisle, then start speedwalking, then begin running. I grab the handle of the cockpit door and try to pull it open. When I realize that the door won't open, I yank it as hard as humanly possible, and in doing so, break the lock, allowing me to enter. I rush in, my eyes widening in horror. The flight attendants are being held to the wall by my bodyguards, who are holding guns to their heads. No, not all the bodyguards are helping in hurting the flight attendants...
The co-pilot is guiding us through the air gracefully, and if there hadn't been any sound made then I wouldn't have know anything. After all, it's hard to talk when you're being beaten to a bloody pulp. Like Zeke is. Zeke, the person who always scored first in his P.E. tests, the one who lightheartedly joked with me and kept my spirits up in whatever hell-hole was my life. The strongest person I knew, lying on the ground dying just like that. And even after all the injuries he's sustained, he still has the guts to sweep the pilots legs out from under him and mouth at me to run. He truly is amazing. It's really too bad that there isn't anywhere to run. Where would I go, the bathroom? I guess there is that reinforced lock from when Ethan broke the door down while other people were peeing... I guess I should run there.

"GET OUT OF HERE ELANA, FOR GODS SA-" Zeke starts, but he's forced to be cut off when the pilot kicks him in the stomach and sends him flying into the wall. I cringe from the multiple crunches that ring out. A deafening silence follows, where the pilot and I make semi-awkward eye contact. I watch as the red of blood stains the white shirt that's a part of Zeke's uniform. Well, I guess the burgundy uniforms of the flight crew don't only cover wine spills from drunken people... No, no, now is NOT the time to be thinking like that. I need to run.

"GET AWAY! ELA-" he's cut off by the pilot, who kicks him in in the spine. He's obviously had enough of Zeke. I go into mental overload. Quick. What do you remember from the self-defense class? I look at the pilot, and he looks at me. I notice him inching his hand to a holstered gun and begin backing away.

"Stop! You're coming with me!" he says, snatching the gun and holding it up at me.

"Why is that? How will you make me?" I ask.

"Bosses orders. You can come with your own free will, or I'll make you. I want my paycheck, kid, and I don't care how I earn it."

"I- well, I-"

"Can we just shut her up? It would be a whole lot easier than this."

"No, boss said no to harm her unless we had to."

"I can't believe his nerve." I begin to back out from the cockpit, hoping to escape from the mystery men.

"HEY! SHE'S GETTING AWAY," says the pilot. I was only backing away out of instinct, but now I turn on my heel and bolt, heading to the back of the plane, where we have a lavatory with a reinforced lock(installed so Ethan couldn't walk in on me). I barely make it out of the door before I feel something hit my thigh. I start feeling sleepy, and my feet seem to be slowing down. I glance back at the cockpit and see the pilot with his hands on the trigger.

...

I awake from my slumber and see nothing but darkness. My hands are stuck together, and around my wrists is a scratchy fabric.

"Are we clear to land?"

"Yep."

"Why did we have to get her again? Why not another, more famous celebrity?"

"SHUT UP! You might be punished if you're caught asking questions."

"Gentleman, what will you do to Elana? I promise, she would never do anything to harm anyone, I really don't understand why-" begins a flight attendant.

"BE QUIET OR I'LL... I..."

"What, shoot me?" taunts the flight attendant. As she says that, I feel the plane begins to vibrate.

"Please be seated as we are entering an area with slight turbulence," A calm voice says over the loudspeaker as the cabin bumps us around.

"Quick, grab her!" I hear the pilot say. I feel my "bodyguard" buckle my seat belt.

"Perfect," he says. The pilot groans, but doesn't object. I sigh, ready for the flight to end. The seconds turn into minutes, the minutes into hours, the hours into days, and the days into centuries. BAM! CRASH! The plane hits the ground, and I hear the windbreakers on the wings go up. Someone tears off my blindfold, and I see a knife almost done cutting the ropes on my arms.

"Okay kid, listen up. You are required to cooperate with us unless you want to face our wrath. Understood?"

"Yeah."

"You seem very... chill... about this."

"Okay. So what?" I ask. The pilot sighs.

"You got a lot to learn, kid. And by a lot, I mean a lot," the pilot says, looking at me in a disapproving way.

"Hey, can I ask for a favor?"

"Princess, that's not how this works."

"But, I just want my kidnapping to be associated with 20-38! Isn't that fine?" I ask. The pilot chuckles.

"Why 20-38? It's pretty random," he remarks.

"Our plane took off at 20:38 if you use military time.."

"Well, I'll see what I can do, Elana," he says before getting up, obviously fantasizing that using my real name annoys me.

"Ladies first," he says, opening the door.