1/31/07

“I’m getting the fucking window seat! Any of you bitches try to take my window seat and I’ll cut you the fuck open!” Maxim Von Bono—age fourteen: the youngest of the four Von Bono children—screeched as the four of them and their godmother, Bev, crammed into the crowded “Coach” section of the plane that would take them from their layover in New Delhi, India to their ultimate destination in Hong Kong. Fjord Von Bono—age fifteen: the third Von Bono child—stepped on the heel of his younger brother’s shoe, causing him to stumble.

“Ooh, I am gonna BEAT YOUR ASS!” Maxim shrieked; Fjord just grinned maniacally at the sight of his younger brother’s anger.

“Okay, we’re not having this.” Maria Von Bono—age 16: the second-oldest and only girl in the Von Bono clan—crowded between them. “Sitting in-between you two should prove to be hell, but at least it will keep you from tormenting each other.”

The siblings arrived at the row they would be sitting in. There were four seats in one row and the fifth would have to sit in the next isle over. They began filing in: first Maxim—god forbid he didn’t get his window seat—then Maria, then Fjord. The oldest had intended to take the last seat in the row, but as he was approaching it, Bev hastily pushed crowded in front of him and snatched the seat away.

“Sorry, ducky.” She apologized, displaying her thick Manchester accent. “Auntie Bev needs her isle seat in case she needs to make a break for the lavatory.”

“But that’s an isle seat too.” The oldest pointed out, motioning to the seat in the next isle over.

“Oh… so it is.” Bev said. “But since I’m already here…”

He glowered at her.

“Oh fine! The real reason I don’t want to sit there is that that dame in the unnecessarily large hat and sunglasses looks like she’s trying entirely too hard to be inconspicuous and I’m afraid she’s got a bomb hiding in that obnoxious orange coat she’s wearing.” The conspicuously inconspicuous young lady in question must have heard her, because she sank down into her seat and pulled the newspaper she was pretending to read closer to her face.

“Oh I see how it is.” Stated the oldest, whose voice was near-monotone and made him sound very grim.

“Splendid!” Bev exclaimed, then turned her attention to more pressing issues. “Stewardess! Stewardess, who do I have to fallatiate to get a gin-and-tonic ‘ere?”

The young flight attendant looked at her like a doe caught in the blinding headlights of a Hummer moving towards her at fifty miles-per-hour with the horn blowing. “Umm… we aren’t airborne yet, ma’am.” It was her first day as a flight attendant and she could already tell it was going to be very long.

“Incompetence.” Bev grumbled.

“Bev, you shouldn’t use to term ‘stewardess’: it’s not politically correct.” Maria chided, completely overlooking the lewdness of the fallatiation remark. “They prefer to be called ‘flight attendants’ now.”

Bev smiled at her sardonically. “Maria, love… you’d be so pretty if you didn’t talk so much.” She then reached into her brazier and pulled out a vile of tequila. “Good thing Auntie Bev brought her reserves—you wouldn’t like me when I’m sober.” She downed the tequila in one gulp. “Ooh yeah… that’s the stuff.”

Bev was a raging alcoholic, but she would be offended if you told her so. She preferred the terms “lush”, “wine connoisseur”, and “goodtime girl”. In fact, Bev wasn’t even her real name: it was a shortened form of the ironic nickname “Non-Alcoholic Beverage”, which the Von Bono’s mother (Analise) gave her in high school. Her legal name was Eugenia-Bess Cromwell, though few actually called her that anymore.

Grudgingly, the oldest took his seat next to the conspicuous girl who was trying not to be. She eyed him all over for a minute, which made him uncomfortable. He rummaged through his backpack for his CD player and hoped she wouldn’t try to make smalltalk, which he hated. Really though, it he hated talk of any size. He wasn’t a social person by nature; only with a few drinks.

The oldest had the great misfortune of having been named “Bono Von Bono” (the first “Bono” pronounced with the short, Germanic “O” like the U2 vocalist that was his namesake; the second “Bono” pronounced with the long, Romantic “O”, like Sonny & Cher Bono). He was a year older than Maria, making the four Von Bono children a year apart from each other. Socially, one could argue, he was the least well-adjusted of the four (though his ultra-effeminate youngest brother—Maxim, that is—could give him a run for his money). He was a little neurotic: hated people touching him, couldn’t handle condiments when they weren’t being used on something, had an irrational fear of large boats, and kept a list of words that made him uncomfortable (which included “plump”, “girdle”, “rumpled”, and “skag”).

The Von Bonos hailed from the tiny village-state of Europa Obscura: a nation so small that it couldn’t even be located on most maps (though geographically, it was located between Switzerland and Liechtenstein and a person could drive past it without even noticing). Their grandfather—known only by his title: the Kaiser—was the absolute ruler of Europa Obscura. Their mother, Analise Von Bono, was the Kaiser’s daughter by his second wife. However, due in part to an unfortunate divorce, she wasn’t eligible to inherit the throne. Therefore the next in line to ascend to power was Bono—being that he was recognized as the oldest—though he was hardly competent to rule a nation. The Kaiser had been ruler for almost fifty years, and, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, he was in good health. Bono seriously hoped the old man would outlive him, so that he would never have to run the nation.

xXx

A number of hours into the flight, the shady-looking lass sitting next to Bono caught him as he was switching CD’s.

“What do you call a magical girl on a plain?” She asked.

Damn it. He thought; he was hoping to get through the whole flight without having to talk to her.

“I donno.” He replied, unenthused. “What?”

“Your eminent death.” She answered.

“… I don’t get it.”

“It means I’m going to slaughter you and your entire family before you touch down in Hong Kong.”

“Oh… Well that’s not very funny.”

But she cackled anyway. She then shot up out of her seat like a bolt of multicolored lightning, leaving her absurdly obvious disguise sitting in her seat. She landed at the front of the cabin on the spiked heels of her knee-high boots, adorned with stars, hearts, and moons. She wore a long, white scarf around her neck and a headband across her forehead that tied in the back of her bright red-orange hair. She quickly laid waste to the poor flight attendant by kicking her in the head and knocking her out cold. The stranger then picked up the intercom and made an announcement.

“Attention passengers, we will now be making our final descent into Hell. Please fasten your seatbelts and place your serving treys in the upright position.” She stated, calmly. “In the case that I become fed up with you and fling you out into the Indian Ocean, your seat cushion can be used as a safety device.”

The Von Bonos glanced at each other, apprehensively (Bev had long since passed out after downing half-a-dozen gin-and-tonics).

“My name is Secret Agent Rainbow, and if any of you need anything, please let me know… so I can kill you.” The hijacker introduced, quite politely if you paid no mind to the threats of violence. “Any questions?”

A man in the back dared to raise his hand.

“Yes, you back there, baldy.” Secret Agent Rainbow said, pointing him out.

“Uhh… Are you in the Taliban?” He asked.

She looked at him like he was stupid. “Do I look like an Islamic extremist?” She didn’t, to say the least. On top of having red hair, she had bright blue eyes and very pale skin. She even spoke English with a vaguely North American accent.

“So that’s a no?”

“That’s a no.”

She glanced around the cabin. “Will the members of Von Bono family please raise your hands?”

Bono looked over to his right to find his younger siblings staring back at him... and Bev, facedown on her serving trey.

“…What? Don’t look at me.” He muttered.

“What are we supposed to do?” Maria asked.

“I donno.” He replied. “You’re smart, you figure something out.”

“C’mon kids, I know who you are anyway, I’m just trying to have a little fun with this assassination.” Secret Agent Rainbow explained.

It seemed that in the past few years, the Kaiser had amassed a great deal of debt. Europa Obscura itself was not a particularly wealthy nation, having no commerce to speak of. The so-called “Von Bono Fortune” had been brought into the family by the Kaiser’s late second wife, Kaiserin Anselfina, who, in her prime, had been a well-establish actress. Following her death, however, the Kaiser found that legality had screwed him over, and her estate had been left almost entirely to her grandchildren, who couldn’t touch it until they were eighteen anyway.

The Kaiser was a very mysterious and threatening man, as well as pious. He spent the sum of all his days in a chapel somewhere on the Von Bono Compound (the massive sub-city of Europa Obscura that served as the palace of the ruling family). From there, he barked orders and terrified subjects and kinsmen alike. In spite of the fact that Bono was the Heir Apparent, he could not recall having ever met the old man; he didn’t even know his real name: everyone simply referred to him as “the Kaiser”.

He was not good with money—the Kaiser, that is. He had stricken the nation destitute from taxation to fund the building of the Von Bono Compound, and gave every cent of his own money to the church. It’s very likely that this was the reason his late-wife kept her money so jealously guarded from him, even after her death. “There wasn’t much love between your grandparents.” Bono’s mother had once told him. “I really this she just married him as a charity to the country.” In her life, Kaiserin Anselfina had proven herself to be a much more able ruler than her husband: providing for the poor and paying for everything that the taxes should have covered out of her own pockets.

So it came as no surprise when it came to light that the nation was deep in debt. To help pay off this debt, the Kaiser had made the mistake of taking a loan from an organized crime syndicate: not the mafia exactly, but similar. It was a little-known German-based group called the Winterlicht Organization. When the time came for the Kaiser to pay them back, he refused (because he was a pompous tyrant). Head began to roll after that, and thus the royal family was forced to go into hiding.

Apparently they weren’t hiding well enough though. They hadn’t even reached Hong Kong yet and they had already been found by one of Winterlicht’s agents.

“Okay, fine! Don’t have any fun with me!” Rainbow lamented, when the Von Bonos didn’t readily present themselves. “Everybody stand up! Now!”

The entire Coach section stood up: she had just meant the kids she’d been sent to slaughter.

“GRAAAH! NO! Just the—AAAHHH!” She was suddenly interrupted by a scalding hot wad of molten plastic hitting her in the side of the face.

The captive passengers looked all around at each other, but no one could figure out where it had come from or where anyone could have found it for that matter; what a bizarre thing to happen during a hijacking.

Still screaming in agony, Secret Agent Rainbow peeled the plastic off of her face. As she tore it off, it became obvious that the burn had miraculously not damaged her face, though it was clear she was in pain. It was an inherent ability of all magical girls: they could succumb to injury—even die—but they could not have any scars, otherwise their careers would be over.

“What the crap was that?!” She exclaimed. Everyone looked just as bewildered as her.

Just then another wad of melted plastic came hurling towards her. She, however, was prepared this time, and blocked it with a giant, multi-colored energy shield shaped like a heart… because she’s a magical girl and they can pull that stuff off.

She had seen where it came from this time: she was looking straight at him. It was Fjord Von Bono.

“What’s up with that?” Her stare was burning right through him. “Ya know, I don’t get paid enough to put up with this crap; you could gimme a break.”

“But… you’re trying to kill me and my family.” Fjord replied.

She brushed that comment off. “Yeah whatever—where did you get the plastic? And better yet, how did you melt it?”

Fjord smiled maniacally and hocked a loogie right in her face. She was momentarily disgusted, until she realized that his mucus was searing her skin and hardening as it cooled. She screamed and frantically tried to rip it off, but while she was doing that, an uprooted seat came flying towards her, cracking her in the head and rendering her unconscious.

xXx

“My face hurts.” Secret Agent Rainbow grumbled incoherently, still not fully conscious.

“That’s because it’s been burned twice and had an airline recliner bash into it.”

“… Oh.”

Rainbow opened her eyes a little; she could hear a familiar tune.

“Oh yeah I’ll, tell you something; I think you’ll understand; when I, say that something; I wanna hold your hand!” Maria Von Bono sang, as she sat on the floor near where she was lying. Rainbow looked around; someone had busted out a guitar and the entire Coach section was participating in a sing-along of Beatles standards.

“What the crap?” Rainbow muttered.

“People have a tendency to be a little overjoyed when they make it through a terrorist attack without being harmed or witnessing anything gruesome.” Maria explained.

“I’m not in the Taliban!” Rainbow reiterated.

“Doesn’t matter.” Maria replied. “This was pretty much an act of terrorism—and if not that, then just plain illegal. I mean, stalking a family onto a plain with intent to kill them in mid-air? I don’t think they let you get away with that in any country.”

Rainbow began to panic. I gotta get myself outta this she thought. She tried to stand up but found herself quite paralyzed.

“Oh my god! That chair gave me brain damage! I’m a cripple!” She exclaimed, panicking.

Maria laughed. “You’re not a cripple; I’m controlling your mind.” It was then that Rainbow noticed Maria’s hand on her ankle. She tried to shake it off, but she couldn’t move her leg.

“… What the hell’s the matter with you people?! Were you exposed to chemical waste or something?! You control minds and your brother spits plastic?!” Rainbow asked.

“I know, it’s bizarre isn’t it? Spitting plastic: there have never been any superheroes that could do that… as far as I know.” Maria concurred. “And the other two have uber-strength—well, you sound American so you’d call it ‘super strength’, but we speak German as our first language, so we say ‘uber’. In fact, it was Maxim who threw the chair at you… He gets a little over-excited.”

Rainbow stared at her for a long time without saying anything, and before long a gigantic heart made entirely of red gelatin formed above Maria’s head. She didn’t notice it, however until it came crashing down upon her, causing he to loose grip on Rainbow’s ankle, thus freeing her from the mind-control.

“Bwahahahahahahaha!” Rainbow guffawed as she jumped to her feet.

“How did you do that?!” Maria asked, climbing out of the jello.

“I’m a magical girl, we always come through with something at the very last second; it’s a cardinal rule of the profession.”

Maria tried to grab her and take possession of her mind again, but now that Rainbow was fully awake, she was much harder to catch. She cartwheeled over to the emergency exit and threw open the door.

“Later losers!” She exclaimed before being sucked out and into the Wild Blue, where she released her “Hello Kitty” parachute.

“It’ll be interesting to find out what the good people of Myanmar make over her when she touches down.” Bono said.

end