Liam Neeson Airport Heist

Liam Neeson Airport Heist, chapter 1

Liam Neeson woke up every morning in his one bedroom apartment in the same way. Dust played in the streams of light coming in from the crack of dawn sun, just poking over the rooftops. Pigeons were cooing on his air-conditioner unit outside his window, and Liam gave them a quiet smile and hello before slipping his rubber soled black shoes on, and heading to the kitchen to pour a bowl of Life-brand cereal. 

The cereal box was positioned exactly next to a bowl, a plate, and a cup. He only had one spoon, which he cleaned after using, dried, and then placed back into his position. He did all of this with the same careful effort, as if he had done this routine a hundred mornings before, and would continue this way if not interrupted. There was one single Chex left on the table, apparently one piece that had spilled and was out of order. Liam Neeson picked it up and inspected it closely, admiring the interweaving fibers that gave it a distinct, complex and ordered structure. It was light, flexible, and kept it's shape without crushing inside a cardboard box. He smiled, and walked over to the window, cracking it a smidge, before giving the piece to the pigeons there. 

On his walls, the only decorations, were photos of her. His Wife, an actress you don't recognize, is smiling in every photo as if every memory was better than the last. For Liam Neeson, that was true. He had perfect memory, photographic memory. There wasn't a single detail from his life he could forget. He could say with complete confidence that each memory with his Wife was better than the last, flashing to moments of making love on the beach, to their wedding day, to their first child, to coming home from a long trip overseas to their smiling faces. They were content, but Liam Neeson ruined it all. 

Because of his condition, he was hired by the world's most impressive security firms to teach them how to stop people like him. He could, just by looking at the piece of a system, could deduce the workings of the entire system. It made him a master burglar, hacker, if it was locked, he could open it. This life was dangerous, and although he could see how any system could be made perfect, he did not account for human error. Not the human error which makes a careless mistake that no one notices until it's too late. No, the human error which causes a man to blame another man for something he had no control over. 

After building one of the most secure gold storage installations ever, in the middle of endless sand dunes of the Saudi desert, his employer, Prince Baccaneer, held Liam Neeson responsible for the theft of his millions during a crypto Heist when the prince placed his gold up as collateral. The Prince could not stand this humiliation and after killing all his underlings he felt let him make such a mistake, he sought one more. 

It had been fifteen years now since the day his family was murdered in cold blood by Chinese Triad Ninjas hired by the Prince. They took everything from him, and everyday he relives the memory as he heads to work. He was left to live after being tortured, having been spared to suffer the fate of never forgetting this tragedy. 

He took a job where he could talk with strangers in conversations they would never remember. People passing by, never even remembering his face. He was just another service clerk in the service industry, and servants don't have faces. His was quite recognizable, but he would always find a way to keep the conversation light and airy, just like an Airport, so they would never pick up any details about who he is or was. He was just a kindly American middle-aged man, maybe a little down on his luck, with an unremarkable Scottish Accent. If he saw you had a ring on your finger, he would tell you "Take care of that man," or "You treat her right, you hear me?" and other paternal gems, to make you smile before you were on your way. 

There were a few travelers who were his regulars. He could never forget a face, or a drink order, so they appreciated the time he saved them, always making their drink so it was ready as they came down the corridor to the gates. Julianne Moore, she always traveled the red eye to Seattle on Fridays to take the kids for the weekend from her ex-husband, who she payed alimony to. There was Paul Walker, a race car driver on the rally circuit, who always tipped in hundreds and asked Liam Neeson for some of his wisdom before heading to his next race. Liam always returned with his dry wit, "Try not to drive off the road," and Paul would laugh harder than any one should. But he genuinely loved his jokes, and told him when he was white-knuckling around curves, he would still laugh at those jokes.