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Chapter 1:- Tracking
The plane touched down on the runway a few hours after the third sighting. Jiro was the only one onboard besides the captain, a stocky man with an impressive beer gut. He shuffled out of the cockpit, pushing aside a mustard yellow curtain that she had a sinking suspicion used to be white.
"Got your baggage?" He didn't even bother glancing at her. "Don't wanna deal with some sob story if you leave something behind."
" No, I have everything." Thank goodness she hadn't bothered talking to him before they took off or she never would have been able to force herself to get on.
She didn't bother saying goodbye, just threw her army issue backpack over her shoulder and took a step towards the door. She waited for him to unlock it and let her out, even started to tap her foot. But he had turned around, completely oblivious to her. Even the back of his jacket was filthy, with a fresh coffee stain on his collar. Being that much of a slob takes talent.
"Hello?" She didn't even bother trying to be polite, he certainly wasn't. "I have someone to meet, would you unlock the door?"
He grunted something, leaning down to rummage in a chest on the other wall.
Jiro tried to be be patient, she really did. But the seconds dragged on and on. Waiting had never been one of her strongest suits. Stupid stunts, however, were her specialty.
She let her bag slide to the floor, careful not to make a sound. The door's lock was the only thing on the entire plane that wasn't desperately in need of repair. It was brand new, she could even still see the the torn paint from were the last one had been. Jiro breathed in, forcing every bit of oxygen that she could into her lungs.
Energy brimmed on her fingertips. One moment it felt like they were going to melt off, the next they were blocks of ice. She wanted to cry, but the feeling passed, leaving only numbness. Jiro was never truly prepared for the final step, but the point of no return was a spec on the horizon.
Blood, she tought. Think about the blood soaring through your veins.
She held the energy back as long as she could, letting it build. She could even feel it fighting to spread from her hand.
The captain started to hum an off tune "Amazing Grace", the only proof she had that she wasn't screaming.
She let the energy release, like water crashing through a dam. She could see it ark up her skin like strands of black spider webs. Her skin felt like it was going to fall off and then it was gone.
Everything was gone.
No thought, no breath, no sensation.
Jiro was nothing.
The plane touched down on the runway a few hours after the third sighting. Jiro was the only one onboard besides the captain, a stocky man with an impressive beer gut. He shuffled out of the cockpit, pushing aside a mustard yellow curtain that she had a sinking suspicion used to be white.
"Got your baggage?" He didn't even bother glancing at her. "Don't wanna deal with some sob story if you leave something behind."
" No, I have everything." Thank goodness she hadn't bothered talking to him before they took off or she never would have been able to force herself to get on.
She didn't bother saying goodbye, just threw her army issue backpack over her shoulder and took a step towards the door. She waited for him to unlock it and let her out, even started to tap her foot. But he had turned around, completely oblivious to her. Even the back of his jacket was filthy, with a fresh coffee stain on his collar. Being that much of a slob takes talent.
"Hello?" She didn't even bother trying to be polite, he certainly wasn't. "I have someone to meet, would you unlock the door?"
He grunted something, leaning down to rummage in a chest on the other wall.
Jiro tried to be be patient, she really did. But the seconds dragged on and on. Waiting had never been one of her strongest suits. Stupid stunts, however, were her specialty.
She let her bag slide to the floor, careful not to make a sound. The door's lock was the only thing on the entire plane that wasn't desperately in need of repair. It was brand new, she could even still see the the torn paint from were the last one had been. Jiro breathed in, forcing every bit of oxygen that she could into her lungs.
Energy brimmed on her fingertips. One moment it felt like they were going to melt off, the next they were blocks of ice. She wanted to cry, but the feeling passed, leaving only numbness. Jiro was never truly prepared for the final step, but the point of no return was a spec on the horizon.
Blood, she tought. Think about the blood soaring through your veins.
She held the energy back as long as she could, letting it build. She could even feel it fighting to spread from her hand.
The captain started to hum an off tune "Amazing Grace", the only proof she had that she wasn't screaming.
She let the energy release, like water crashing through a dam. She could see it ark up her skin like strands of black spider webs. Her skin felt like it was going to fall off and then it was gone.
Everything was gone.
No thought, no breath, no sensation.
Jiro was nothing.
