Chaos in the Sky

The Cargo looked out the airplane window, and, judging by how much water he could see, he knew that he was nowhere near his destination; his home country of Eritrea. He looked at the Bluecoat to his left, and dared to ask if he could call the stewardess for a cup of water. He decided, though, that it would be best not to, since that would be the last thing the Bluecoat would let someone in his position do. Besides, the Bluecoat probably wouldn't be allowed to take off the Cargo's cold steel handcuffs anyway, nor would he want to. The Cargo took a big look around the plane. Besides the blue-clad man keeping an eerie eye on him, he saw that there was a surprisingly large amount of people on this flight to the little known island-country of Eritrea. He saw a sharply dressed group of Suits quietly talking among each other, probably discussing what their business in Eritrea would hold. He saw one of the Suits stand up and start walking to the lavatory, but carelessly bumped into a Bag, who almost threw out her weary hip trying to avoid him.

The Cargo was dreading his arrival in Eritrea, because he knew what the Fuzz in his country would do to big-time Candymen like him, especially when they brought their "business" into a different country like the U.S. He also knew that the Bluecoat to his left, who was now reaching to the floor to pick up the small, silver, airplane-shaped pin that he wore on the corner of his lapel that he had dropped, was not into negotiating with these international criminals that came before him on a regular basis. The Cargo knew that the Bluecoat, along with the national Fuzz of Eritrea, would go right into extracting the gold of the Cargo's head, and rather forcefully. The Cargo was definitely a valuable asset to the development of this crime's case, because he was the only one out of all of Eritrea's big-time Candymen that were caught, and with him (and the right means of persuasion) this one Smoking Gun could easily become the access point to the whereabouts of ten or fifteen more, or maybe even the location of an entire syndicate! The Bluecoat must have seen the anxiety in the Cargo's eyes, because he leaned over to the Cargo's ear and said with a southern-tinted whisper as deep as the abysmal ocean they were flying above: "You better hope we don't get to your country because as soon as we do, you're gonna wish we crashed on this here plane."

As if on cue, there was a sudden jolt. Then, another, but noticeably bigger and far more menacing then the previous. With a swift clack, the overhead compartment opened, spilling metal briefcases onto the unsuspecting head of the Bluecoat, and knocking him unconscious. Then, without anymore warning, the tail of the plane was ripped from the rest of the plane, causing nearly half of the horrified excursionists to be ejected from their seats and sucked into the vast, blue, Beast below them. As the plane was making its exceedingly rapid descent from sky to water, the frantic Cargo could hear the Ace in the cockpit screaming over the radio "Mayday! Mayday! This is flight 415 from New York to Eritrea! W-We're going d....."

As the young Backpack was strolling along the shores of South Africa, after a leisurely day of vacationing at the near-by resort with his family, he came across something shiny in the crystal-clear water, only about a foot out. He waded into the wave-less, quiet water and bent down to pick it up. He opened his hand, cleared away the sand, and marveled at the treasure he had just found. It was a small, slightly rusted pin in the shape of an airplane, like one a U.S. Air Marshall would wear or something. Hmm.... Thought the confused Backpack. I wonder how this got here? Then, he remembered about hearing on the international news channel, back in his hometown of Sydney, about that crazy airplane crash that had taken place around here. Nobody found the wreckage. I remember they were looking for months on end, but couldn't find anything.... But that was a whole four and a half years ago. He thought. Nahh.. This couldn't have been from that. So the Backpack pocketed the perplexing treasure and carried on along the shore, kicking shells and skipping rocks.

If only he looked a little closer when he picked up the pin, he would have seen something else that may have peaked his interest: A pair of handcuffs barely visible from the top of the sand from where they were almost completely buried.