Regrets

That's Just The Way It Is

1976.

Barney, Alexandra, Tool and John all sat in the plane quietly. The plane belonged to a friend of John's who worked with hundreds- maybe even thousands- of mercenaries and would transport them from one country or city or state to the other. His name- or at least the name that he was known by, no one is completely sure it's his real name, but that's not uncommon- was Max Drummer. There wasn't a lot that people knew about him, just that he was in the military and had connections with powerful figures in the FBI, CIA, US government, Interpol, and a whole bunch of organizations no one knew about and no one was supposed to know about like MI6 or the real secret service. In this game, everyone knew who he was and that he transported people- usually, legally, unless a job required slight illegal action- but along with all these things, that's all they knew.

Each of the four on the plane kept to himself and his own business- or herself and her own business. Every once in a while, each of the four would look up, maybe meet someone's gaze, then look right back down to their own. It wasn't a long flight, and John Conti had already gone over anything and everything that needed to be known or planned. They had gone over a map of what the complex looked like, or at least supposed to look like, as well as the plan based off what they and John's colleagues all knew. Everyone had weapons, gear, and instructions. It was all pretty cut and dry.

So far, the hardest part was getting through a slightly awkward plane ride.

Alexandra sat with her legs criss crossed on her seat, reading the 1960 novel by Harper Lee, To Kill A Mockingbird. Tool sat with a small sketchpad and pencil, working on designs that he could use at his tattoo parlor. Barney sat with his head leaned against the cold interior of the plane, staring out over the clouds out the window. John sat back, the most recent newspaper in his hands that he had purchased at a corner store back in New Orleans.

"Outta curiosity," Tool began to asked, looking up and setting aside his pad and pencil, "What happens when we're done here, anyhow?"

John looked up from his paper a moment, then back down at the section he had been reading. "We get paid," he answered nonchalantly.

His answer seemed to catch interest in everyone else on the plane, but they hid it. "How much?" Alexandra asked flatly, not looking up from her page in her book- but she still marked it, just in case, with her finger.

John thought a moment. "Well, this whole thing isn't a big job, per say. There's four of us, so I'd say, based off what I know and from past experience- probably about fifteen to twenty thousand."

This time, everyone looked up at his answer. "Twenty thousand dollars?" Barney asked in slight shock.

Alexandra gave him a look. "Obviously," she answered in the same tone one would use to say 'duh'.

Tool gave a skeptical look. "How do we know this is all completely legit?" he asked.

John gave an amused grin, similar to the one that would belong to a crazy person- as well as the smirk that his sister had given once before; it was eerie to the two other men. "To be honest, ya never really know," he grinned. His younger sister gave an amused look of her own, then returned to her book.

Tool and Barney shared a look, both knowing they had the same exact thought on their minds, which was: These two are absolutely insane.

-/-/-

"We're stayin' here for the night and durin' the day tomorrow," John informed the three, "Tomorrow night is when it happens."

The three who followed him nodded their heads in understanding and continued forward to the front desk of the hotel they'd reserved two rooms in. After checking in under the name "Jonathan Contour"- it was John Conti's alias- they quickly went to their rooms. The first of the two rooms would be shared by Tool and Barney, and the second would be shared by Alexandra and John. The rooms they had were connected by a small hallway and a door, giving easy access from one room to the other.