1 The Beginning Of The End

Being calm is nothing special, honestly, Clay Dalton hates being calm, it's just the absolute worst to him, having to greet the everyday bullshit of his life with a neutral set to his lips and a complacent tone in his voice. Calm is stupidly overrated.... But Clay was never given the choice to be anything else. It makes him jealous of his little brother Nathan. Especially listening to him whine in the seat next to him on an airplane.

"This is so boooring, ugh! Clay how much longer do we have to be o this stupid plane?" Clay shushes his fourteen-year-old brother lightly.

"Quiet down a little Nathan, we only have around ninety minutes left. Just relax and play one of the games you brought, do you want a snack?" Nathan scoffs and mutters out a quiet "whatever" and turns away from his brother. "You're not in charge of me, quit acting like you are dad."

Clay doesn't answer as he bites his tongue so hard it bleeds and takes slow and quiet breaths in the way he always does when anger boils in his throat and begs to spill out and scald the world around him. Of course Clay isn't acting like dad, or he would've abandoned his brother's sorry ass on day one and then expect to be loved unconditionally ever after. Unfortunately, Clay did have to take a parental role in life, his mother crumpled under the pressure and slid the burden onto Clay's juvenile shoulders, and eventually, it ate the teen up from the inside out and now they're being sent to their father's happy new life for him to take care of them. Clay hates the fact  that he lost the chance to have a proper childhood and a good relationship with his brother, all he can do is take a deep breath and move on, like always. He takes a small sip of the still piping hot after thirty minutes of traveling coffee from the cup on his tray, savoring the sting from where it digs into his tongue wounds.

Everything goes sideways when only a few feet away from him a male flight attendant grabs a female passenger that was getting up (presumably to use the restroom), he pulls a knife from his pocket and holds it to her throat. Her scream sends the rest of the passengers into a panicked frenzy. Clay's first reaction is to shove his brother behind him into the lap of the sitting in the window seat of the isle and position his body to block the two from view, the person I assume to be the air marshall stands up with several others and try and move forward. The knife-wielder shuffles back and pins himself to the exit door across the aisle from Clay, the man had obviously planned this so there would be no way for someone to ambush from behind.

"Everyone shut the fuck up and sit down! If you get closer I'll slit this bitch's throat right here!" This had his desired effect as everyone moved away and a sickening hush spread throughout the cabin. The woman in his grasp choked out a sob and it is obvious her legs are giving out on her from fear, she is barely holding herself up as the man gripped her tightly.  Tears run down her face as long brown hair gets in her face. The assumed air marshall speaks up, his voice steady and hard.

"Who are you and what do you want?" A change occurs in the man's eyes and Clay recognize it, that is the face of a desperate man, desperation makes people dangerous. A small and insane plan forms in the teen's head as he discreetly takes the cup off of his coffee and holds it tight.

"I'm only going to say it once so listen up! If I don't get a hundred and fifty thousand USD  I will kill this bitch and as many of you as I can." He raises his voice, "I know the Pilots can hear me perfectly fine so they better relay my demands, and they better add in an unmarked car with a full tank of gas! You all already know what would happen if my demands aren't met!" There is some muffled shuffling before one of the Pilots walks out with his hands raised. "Your commands have been heard and our airline is entirely willing to meet your demands, all that they ask is that no one is harmed," The man nods but Clay is still worried about the crazed look in the man's eyes, he can feel Nathan tugging at his shirt but ignores it, still doing his best to bodily guard the two behind him. The hostile man orders the pilot back into the cockpit and his desperate dangerous eyes seem to dart over the passengers as sweat drips down his pale white face. Clay's stomach does flips when dark brown eyes make contact with his. He simply breathes deep as always with his damning calm and waits to see what is to come.