Welcome to Duchess Regional Port Side Airways!

TokyoZombi said as she welcomed the next passenger onto the airplane. She greeted every person that walked onboard with a bright, inviting smile. 

Welcome to DRPS Airways!

She liked to mix it up and honestly, saying Duchess Regional Port Side Airways was quite a mouthful and she wasn't paid enough. Tokyo was also busy looking for someone. As the line was coming to an end of boarding passengers she saw her mark. He looked to be in his mid forties, obviously had money with a suit like that and carried himself well. She gave him the same greet she gave everyone else, but kept an eye on him to see where he took his seat. Everything was falling into place. Though, her stomach was aching a little, but she would stay in character. She would!

After the door of the aircraft was closed and all the passengers had tucked away their luggage in the over head compartments, taken their seats and were ready to go, Tokyo started towards the drink station. She was sharing the first class section with Kourtney during this flight and was more than pleased with the assignment. 

He's on board.

She said to Kourtney. Can you confirm that the riches are in the belly?

Tokyo was greeted with a blank look.

Kourt, come on. The riches? The loot? Is it on the plane?

Kourtney straightened her stewardess uniform with a smile.  She absolutely loved playing dress up.  Though, this was much more important than a silly game she enjoyed as a child, and as swell as it was pretending she had to get her head in the game and get the REAL game a foot.

As a passenger passed close by, stowing his luggage under a nearby seat, she closed the curtains to give the women some privacy.  She smiled in an over enthusiastic way before leaning in close to Tokyo and whispering:

"As far as I know the 'riches' are in place, my love."

The 'riches' in question were the financial assets of a one Walter J. Smitherton; a lawyer that worked closely with many of the biggest names in the crime underworld.  Rumor had it that the man in question had fucked over a one TylerDurden, Godfather to Delaware City, and was now making his way to Italy with his reaping.  But, not if the girls had their way.  If everything went as planned, the lawyer would be dead, the girls would be rich, and Durden would be none the wiser.  Her smile widened as she watched the final passengers take their seats.  Eyes gleaming excitedly, she glanced sidelong at her companion and gave a little wiggle of her shoulders.

"Time to get this game underfoot, eh Kyo?  Show time!"

Ripping the curtains that separated first class from coach open, she stepped through confidently, trying not to betray the anxious sensation that was creeping up through her spine.  If they pulled this off, they would be genius.  Rich geniuses.  The clothes they could buy... With a clear of her throat Kourtney grabbed the intercom off of the wall and began to brightly, almost too excitedly, begin the announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Flight 345A, non stop to Italy.  We want to thank you for choosing Duchess Regional Port Side Airways as your mode of transportation this evening.  Before we take off we need to go over safety guidelines, which my lovely companion Kyo will be assisting me with."

Turning her back toward the passengers for a moment, she dug into the front of her low cut blouse and pulled out a tube of lipstick, handing it over to Toyko.

"Mark the target," she whispered, "So we know where to go when the lights get cut."

Tokyo put the lipstick in her pocket and put her best face forward.

Welcome on board Flight 345a! We will be shortly taking off to Italy! Our airplane is under the command of Captain Oreo. He has informed me that it will take us a short 13 hours to arrive at our destination. Before we start our snazzy adventure over the pond I will need to inform you all of a few safety features. You will all find a safety card in the pocket in front of you. I ask that you all take a moment during your comfortable travel and get acquainted with the safety card. Remember, it may save your life! 

Tokyo pulled a seat belt from behind her and addressed her audience.

Your seat belt is a very important piece. To use the seat belt, please insert the metal fitting into the buckle. Then simply adjust to fit snugly with the loose end of the strap and if you'd like to unbuckle yourself, lift the buckle and you'll be free. Beyond seat belts, there are eight exits on board. In case of an emergency please do not try to break your window. It will not work. 

There were more things to say, but Tokyo decided to skip over them as half her audience had stopped paying attention as soon as she started talking. There wouldn't be any problems and if there were she'd be saving herself. Tokyo turned and picked up a tray of drinks, she made her way down the aisle. As she neared one Walter J. Smitherton; a lawyer, she leaned down and asked if he would like a glass of champagne. He was busy reading the newspaper, but immediately turned to greet her as soon as she spoke to him. 

"Oh, yes, thank you."

He replied and as she was passing a drink to him she just so happened to trip over her own two feet and spilled the drink on the innocent person sitting next to one Walter J. Smitherton; a layer. 

Oh goodness me. I'm just so clumsy. 

She immediately pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at one Walter J. Smitherton; a layer's neighbor. As she was doing so, she smeared the radioactive lipstick all over the lawyer and his seat. 

Sir, I will quickly go and get more napkins. We will get this cleaned up for you. 

Before Tokyo left she gave one Walter J. Smitherton; a layer a private smile. She had no intentions of coming back to help his neighbor. 

Kourtney watched the exchange between Toyko and Walter J. Smitherton; a voyeur from a distance.  She couldn't help but shake her head and hide a smile as she saw her friend spill the drink and then mark the victim, Walter J. Smitheron; a voyeur.  Things were in motion, and she couldn't be happier.  With a small giggle she wiggled her shoulders again happily, picking the intercom up once more.

"Ladies and gentlemen we will be preparing for take off shortly.  Please remember to buckle your seat belts, and do not  remove them until Captain Oreo has given his orders.  Kyo will be serving drinks, and after we have hit our desired elevation, we will be coming around and serving our inflight meal to you all.  Tonight we have crab platters with sausage, or an oldfayshioned hambuggah.  Ciao for now!"

Hanging up the intercom, she made her way toward the front of the plane to take her seat, and await Toyko.  This was going smoothly, like a piece of cake.  Now to just get everyone settled in for the evening, and then the money would be all theirs...

"No."

Miles below, in the mean streets of Philadelphia, Cameron Collins was engaged in the fight of his life. He had sensed that infamous mob boss Tyler Durden was in town, but no harm would come to the city's underworld on Collins' watch. Collins found the man awaiting a fight in the bad part of town.

"No, Mr Durden. Not today."

Collins deftly drew his handgun from his waistband and fired twelve rounds in the general direction of the mob boss. All twelve flew wide, but somehow managed to hit twelve of Durden's crew. They fell, but were quickly replaced by more. The numbers increased exponentially and Collins soon found himself dangerously outnumbered.

Not one to fret, Collins bolted to the nearest public telephone and dialed his family headquarters in Chicago. The phone rang and rang as the wave of gangsters crept ever closer, snapping their fingers menacingly.

"Fuck this."

Collins slammed the receiver back on the hook and loaded another magazine into his handgun.

"I'll take care of this myself."

He ignored the passers-by that likely would have assisted him in the battle, and took aim at the Durden gang.

"This one's for T-Dawg."

One by one, Collins gunned down the rival crew. Tyler Durden himself escaped during the struggle, but Collins didn't care--the world was round and he'd encounter the man again.

"What on earth is this garbage?"

Solastalgia groaned to the stewardess as he picked apart the burger he had ordered for his inflight meal.  Hot lettuce, stale onions, dry pickles, slimy tomatoes, and cheese which was obviously melted, cooled, and re-heated once more; the state of the beef seemed to have suffered the same neglect - overcooked and dry.  No abuse was spared for this particular burger, and it wasn't making his flight to the old country any more delightful.

He signaled towards the menu's description of the hamburger:

An old fa(y)shioned, 100% beef hamburger served on a bed of crisp iceberg lettuce, freshly chopped onions, vine-ripened tomatoes, dill pickles, and Wisconsin's finest cheddar.  Made with the care of a burger that you would serve to your best friend.  

"This isn't the burger you would serve to your best friend.  This isn't even the burger I would serve to a casual acquaintance.  This is the fucking burger you serve to the family you only see once every few years out of last-minute charity, where the burgers are overcooked and the toppings suffer under the poorly-improvised gazebo you try to cock together at the last second as you try to drink yourself into oblivion between grilling in an attempt to erase your memory of the people that you're ultimately being forced to serve these godawful, shitty burgers to."

Solastalgia threw the burger in a general forward direction out of annoyance, brilliantly striking the lawyer he had recognized earlier in his flight, Walter J. Smitherton, directly in the face with the overcooked patty - mustard splattering the immediate proximity of the impact point, ruining what was once, Solastalgia thought, an impeccable suit.  Sinking into his chair to avoid the lawyer's inevitable death stare, Solastalgia lowered his voice, a look of scorn still over his face.

"Do I even dare bother with the sausage and crab platter? Why on earth are those even paired, anyway?"

Collins hailed a taxi.

"To the airport, sir!"

The driver nodded and tossed Collins' luggage in the trunk of the vehicle. Collins had a flight to catch and was running late. He was meeting his... friend that had boarded the plane on an earlier leg of its route. They were going to Italy for the vacation that had been promised him months ago.

They arrived at the airport with only minutes to spare. Collins threw a wad of bills at the driver.

"Thank you for the excellent service! I will be sure to send a letter to your employer to commend you on the promptness at which you delivered me to my destination."

Collins collected his suitcase and ran for the gate. He made the flight in the nick of time and passed his ticket to an employee. At the end of the jetway, he was greeted by a cheery woman in a DRPS Airways uniform.

"Welcome to DRPS Airways!" she chimed.

Collins smiled at her.

"Be a dear and bring me a water with lemon when you get a chance."

The woman smiled back at him and bustled to the small kitchen area as Collins made his way through the rows of passengers. Halfway to his seat, he spotted a familiar face: it was Walter J. Smitherton, a sawyer. Inexplicably, he was covered his mustard. Collins leaned in close to the man and spoke softly so that no other passengers could hear:

"You should be careful about the stewardesses on here. They're trying to kill you."

Without a word of explanation, Collins found his seat next to Solastalgia. He settled in just as the one woman bustled over with his cold drink.

"Here you go, sir!" she exclaimed.

Collins took the drink and placed it on his tray.

"Thank you!"

He turned to his friend.

"Solsy, what should we do while we're in Italy?"

Collin's appearance during the layover helped to get his mind off of the atrocious farce of a hamburger that he had launched at another human being not a few moments before; he had initially assumed Collin missed the flight.  Cheered up by this revelation, Solastalgia took a moment to ponder his question before responding.

"Just a word of advice - don't order anything off of the inflight menu.  It's horrendous.  Seriously, I'd like to have a word with whoever put together that garbage they passed off as a meal."

As he stopped speaking, Solastalgia noticed a small streak of blood running down Collin's neck before a flood of memories, depression and mourning came rushing back as the date clicked in his head; T-Dawg's death anniversary.

"You.. you didn't.." Solastalgia's mind went blank as a lump formed in his throat as he desperately tried to find the words to express his confusion and sadness. "..get vengeance for T-Dawg, did you?" 

"I did." Collin replied solemnly, taking a small napkin and rubbing away the small trickle of blood that was caused by a stray bullet's graze. 

"All of them.  Dead.  T-Dawg was repaid twelve times over.  He'd be proud of me.  He'd be proud of us." 

Solastalgia shrugged as he tried to put his memories of the man behind him; too much potential lost, too soon.  As the pilot warned the passengers of their final takeoff, his mind went back to Italy.

"What are we seeing in Italy? Oh, you know, we'll see the countryside, 'ciao' down on some food like kings, steal a few crates of wine, do all of the stereotypical things one does in this line of work.  But who needs stereotypes? I have it on good word that we can have a private tour of one of those bathhouses that were all the rave in Rome back then.  Anything in particular you want to see? Should we.. should we tribute a night of drinking, just for T-Dawg?"

Collins nodded.

"It would be a fitting homage. T-Dawg never could resist a good whiskey."

He finished his glass of lemon water and handed it to a passing stewardess. Settling further into his seat, he turned to Solastalgia.

"I don't want to spend the whole trip running from place to place. I want to relax with a cup of espresso, maybe enjoy some of the fashion, possibly ride one of those scooters I've seen in the moving pictures. A bathhouse does sound nice, though."

Suddenly, Collins felt dizzy. He wasn't sure if it was the height, or the loss of blood--his neck wound had begun to bleed again. He dabbed at it for a moment, before remembering his good fortune: he had remembered to pack his bag of intravenous fluids. He dug through his bag until he found the kit.

"Give me a hand, Solsy."

Solastalgia skillfully rigged the bag to the overhead compartment as Collins stuck the needle into his arm. His arm began to bleed, but it was nothing compared to the blood spilled from the Durden clan earlier in the evening.

The stewardess with the unusual perfume of rotting flesh bustled over. She passed Collins another napkin, as his was now soaked through. Collins immediately pressed it to his arm.

"Thank you, miss. When you have a moment, would you please fetch a blanket for my companion here? He is a chilly boy."

Solastalgia. 

Was all Tokyo said as she looked from the man who asked for a blanket and back to her boss. She hoped the death glare was sufficient and he got the point that she didn't like seeing him on board HER action. He was always trying to put a kink in her plans. Or maybe it was a kink. Maybe that was why his friend was looking for a blanket. They wanted to get kinky together. 

Couldn't you just use the bathroom?

She asked as she continued to glare. One eyebrow arched, a slight smirk on her mouth. If Sola went to the bathroom Tokyo planned to lock him in there for the next 13 hours or more. She may not let him out when they landed. He wasn't going to get her target, she didn't miss the hamburger throwing. Marking his territory. She laughed internally knowing she had already got the mark before him. 

Tokyo looked between the men again and that's when she saw it. The blood. THE BLOOD. Tokyo instantly collapsed on the ground. She felt her mind slip away and into a foggy place.

A tall, dark and not very handsome figure floated above her. Tokyo's vision blurred. She blinked rapidly which didn't help much for her vision, but she realized the this figure or shape or whatever it was wasn't floating, but more looming over her. The arms were very long, they reached towards her, but she could feel them inside of her. Though he wasn't touching her at all. His mouth gaping open as if he was screaming but no noise escaped. This was it, this was her doom. SlenderPimp was going to finally drag her to his hell.

Tokyo instantly woke up from the nightmare. She felt the ground below her. It was different than the one in the nightmare. Sandy. Very interesting. The scene in front of her was of no SlenderPimp, no dark figure sucking in her soul. Instead she saw only sand. Tokyo moved to sit up and then stand. She realized she was looking at pyramids.

Am I in Egypt?

She asked herself out loud because she was psychotic and no one else was around. What happened DRPS airline? What happened to Italy? What happened to Walter J. Smitherton, a slayer? Tokyo asked herself all these questions and had no answers. Well, she had one. She knew Sola was behind all of this. Him and his hamburgers. 

Tokyo gasped awake.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

A calm voice asked her. She looked dazed towards him. 

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

The second time it was asked to her it was a bit more eager. Tokyo blinked a few times and realized the voice came from one Walter J. Smitherton, a doctor. 

What?

Was all she could say at first.

"My fingers, how many of them am I holding up."

She looked at the hand in front of her face once more. 

Three.

Tokyo replied as she pushed his hand out of her way and stood up. She straightened her flight attendant uniform and looked around at the gathered crowd. 

"Well, it wasn't three, but you're standing and breathing again."

What happened?

Tokyo said, panic rising. Had she eaten someone? Had she fainted in complete flesh rush. She could have sworn on her undead life that she was just in Egypt. It must have been a prophecy. Toko looked around for Kourtney. Hopefully her partner in crime would be able to tell her what happened.

Never mind. I need to get the chilly boy a blanket.

She said and stormed down the airplane's aisle. 

The plane ride was getting chaotic.  Out of hand, some may say.  Kourtney was trying to make sense of everything, but she was in over her head.  All she knew was that eventually, somewhere in this thirteen hour plane ride, she and Tokyo would need to murder the fuck out of Walter J. Smitherton; a jack of all trades, and take his money.  Before Solastalgia, apparently.  Because now he was here.  And Collins.  When the hell did Collins get on the plane?

Kourtney knew that the boys were trying to ruin the girls' plan.  So far, it was working.  Solsy had thrown a fit about a burger, and Collins was bleeding from the neck like a drama queen.  And, somehow, Kyo had managed to faint.  Kourtney made a 'getting shit done' face.  She was in no mood to screw this up, and she was, indeed, ready to get shit done.

"Kyo," she whispered loudly as she chased her companion to the front of the plane.  "We need to gain control of this situation.  What are the boys doing here?  Are they trying to out-heist our heist?  And... wait," She paused, watching Kyo go through the closets and cupboards of supplies in the stewardess' station.  "What are you doing?"

"Getting a blanket," was the reply.

"For who?" Kourtney asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"Chilli boy."

"Okay."

'Okay' was really the only response to chilli boy, after all.

"I'm mad that Solsy threw the burger," Kourtney said, suddenly remembering that anyone could be so callous and disrespectful to a technique as widely acknowledged as the four-corner press.

Kyo nodded in agreement.  Kourtney nodded back.  It seemed as if things were getting back on track now.  Suddenly, the girl's heart twinged painfully.  She felt strange.  As if something bad had happened to the love of her life.  Tilting her head to the side, she bit her bottom lip and looked at her friend.

"You know, I realized, I never heard from my boyfriend before we left.  He said he'd stop by and call."

"Your boyfriend?" asked Toyko.

"Yeah, my boyfriend, you met him last week, remember?  Larry Lance?"

Collins was wringing out a blood-soaked napkin into a glass when he overheard the stewardesses talking. Larry Lance? The name was familiar in a way, but he couldn't place it. Then, with sudden horror, he realized: the man his taxi had struck on the way to the airport. Could that man be Kourtney's Larry Lance?

"Whoops."

Collins heart rate increased, and with it a fresh stream of blood shot out from his neck.

"Oh, goddamnit."

He took off his jacket and bunched it up, pressing it to his neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding. As ever, Solastalgia was oblivious to Collins' needs, and was busying himself with the in-flight magazine. The ever-astute Walter J. Smitherton, a proctor, leapt to the rescue and ripped the blanket out of Tokyo's arms. He reached across Solastalgia's lap--smearing mustard on the man's suit--to press the blanket to Collins' neck.

"I was a medic in the war," he mumbled to no one in particular.

Collins tried to relax. There were hours to go before they reached Europe, and he couldn't very well bleed out in the meantime.

"Thank you for using ancient magic to heal me."

Kourtney was still worried about Larry Lance.  It was all she could think about.  She paused dramatically in the middle of the aisle, staring off into the distance.  If only there were some way she could contact him.  Like a phone, a phone she could carry around with her portable, not one that had to be attached to a wall all the time.  If only such an invention existed.

"Miss?"  said the passenger she was supposed to be serving.  "My burger?"

"Oh right," said Kourtney, handing over the old fashioned hambuggah.  "I apologize.  I'm thinking about my boyfriend.  I think something might be wrong with him.  He was supposed to call me before we left this morning, but he didn't.  Do you think something is wrong with him?"

Behind her Collins made a spluttering sound.  She turned around to see him coated in a fresh wave of blood.  'Drama queen,' she thought to herself as she rolled her eyes and continued down the aisle.

Suddenly, there was turbulence.  The plane rocked and she fell into the seats next to her- the one belonging to Walter J. Smitherton- a copter.  The man narrowed his eyes as he looked at her.  "I know what you're up to," he hissed.

Kourtney was scared.  Like, really scared.

Solastalgia snapped awoke from his nap with a small bump in the flight; he wasn't sure how much time had passed since he passed out.  Yet, the area he was sitting in was different.  As was the chair.  As was the plane; his confusion took even deeper root in him as he saw a colourful logo slapped over the chair that was in front of him that read Consental Continental Airways.  He wasn't quite sure what had happened in the time that had lapsed during his nap, but he wasn't comfortable with it.  

All of this distracted Solastalgia from the thin coating he had neglected to question until now; dried blood had apparently sprayed onto him during his nap, and he found the lingering scent of iron following him.  As he looked to his right, a blanket covering more than half of Collins neck, as Collins looked from left to right, discombobulated and spewing nonsense to Walter J. Smitherton, a dancer.  

"The duffel bag led into another dimension, man. Infinite space.   I'm telling you! There is absolutely no conceivable way he could have fit as much equipment as he did in that bag. I don't even know what it was.  It was all so futuristic.. there was some square device with an apple in the middle. too.  What.. what the hell was that?"

Solastalgia had put two and two together - heavy blood loss, travel and hunger.  

"You ruined my suit, you know." Solastalgia shot over Collins as he delved into the concepts of a fourth dimension to a man he didn't even know.

"You don't make enough to even begin replacing this.  Do you have any idea, at all, how many pairs of orphan hands went into shearing and refining the wool that went into this jacket? God, sometimes I want to just take a lance right to your-"

Solastalgia stopped in mid-sentence as he began recalling to his memory the murmurs of conversation pertaining to Larry Lance while he napped.  A new bodyguard he had hired several weeks prior in the city of Chicago just happened to have the name Larry Lance Jr.

"I'm going to ask you a question and I'm going to ask you to limit your answer to just the dimension we're currently in - why exactly were you late to the airport, Collins? You're an early bird.  You had plenty of time beforehand to avenge T-Dawg.  And - why the hell are we on a different plane? Seriously, we've been in the air for what feels like two weeks."

Two sets of Solastalgia's lips were moving, but Collins couldn't make out the words. He squinted his eyes tightly shut and then opened them again, focusing against the flood of dizziness. Before the airport... Collins thought hard. He faded into unconsciousness.

"Is he dead?"

The words resonated in his mind. They were familiar in a way, but in his state he was unable to make sense of his reaction. The words continued over and over again until he was shook awake by Walter J. Smitherton, a financier. Then, it all made sense: Philadelphia, the taxi, Larry Lance and the Mary Poppins bag. He groaned and realized that two stewardesses, his companion, and the friendly stranger that wasn't a stranger and that was most certainly going to be murdered in cold blood by the aforementioned stewardesses were crowded around him in apparent concern.

"I'm not dead," he said in annoyance.

The crowd dissipated, leaving Collins alone with Solastalgia. The man was still waiting for Collins to provide him with the details of his time in Philadelphia.

Collins rested his head on Solsy's shoulder and recounted the sad tale of Larry Lance's demise.