8:32 A.M. , Denver International Airport, Terminal A
I checked my watch swiftly. Punctuality means everything at this time. People
hustled around me as they left the train that carried people terminal to terminal.
Everything smelt like the humid sweat of people who were concerned about
getting to their plane, seeing their family, running away. I'm not concerned about that.
This is Denver International Airport. This is home base for the Takers. And at 9:03 the
Takers will try to take over two-thirds of the world population.
I'm here to stop it.
The clanky metal door of the train opens and I stand there. Watching people exit
the train. Watching people enter the train. I'm looking for them.
The Takers created the New World Order, a plan to kill two-thirds of the world's
whole population in order to gain full control over us. They plan to do this using DIA as
It starts today. It starts here. I'm here to stop it.
We are in a group, we don't have a name for classification purposes. We are in
their home base. We are willing to risk our lives to protect the population.
A flash of metal on a body caught my eye and I jerked my head towards the flash.
A man dressed in all black was walking off the train with no suitcase.
I touched the bobby pin that securely held my parts of my coif hair. This is my
transmitter. It secretly reports my location to the government officials conducting this
grand hustle to stop The New World Order. It also picks up on only the specific
frequencies in my voice when I touch it in order to transmit information to officials.
"Taker. Exiting train. Terminal A." I whispered. Other parts of my crew would track
the Taker and hold him captive. Takers kill and transport information. We start from the
8:39 A.M, Denver International Airport, Terminal A
I checked my watch every few seconds as I walked down the moving, flat escalator.
My heart threatened to leap out of my chest as people moved opposing directions and
voices rattled the inside of my head like it was glass.
At exactly 8:40 I will go into the stairwell in Terminal A and terminate any Takers
that try to move to the bottoms parts of the airport. Under all airports they have built
secret passages moving up and down the main level.
If they move down they can't control up. The Takers up top will take orders from
the ones below, splitting the airport up. Then they will kill. They will hijack all flights and
take down airports one by one. Then they move out. Into the city.
New York, Washington, Arizona, and Montana will sustain their population. The
rest will be taken down. If we don't stop everything from happening here...it's all over.
8:40 A.M , Denver International Airport, Stair Well, Terminal A
I stood in the cold cement stairway, a heavy clunk of heavily loaded metal tugged
my hand to the ground incessantly.
I was wearing a leather jacket that was a mahogany shade of brown and a white
t-shirt that barely covered any part of my shoulder. I wore pleather pants that looked
tighter and less comfortable than they actually were and black knee high boots
equipped with knives and sedatives just incase my gun failed to do the job.
This is my element. Or at least I think it is.
I heard the faint beeping of the padlock that allowed people to enter the stairwell,
then the clank of the door closing.
My body instinctively shrunk back into the wall so I was virtually invisible.
Footsteps deceptively neared closer. I knew they were one flight above me.
The stairs were spiraling but in a straight square. Everything wad simple concrete
that gave nothing away. Simplicity is deception.
The footsteps stopped.
I stopped breathing.
My attacker jumped from the level above landing promptly in front of me,
crouched so his body distributed the impact evenly enough so he wouldn't have to roll.
He stopped for a fraction of a second and I could see a pleased, lopsided smirk.
I raised my elbow quickly and my leg sprung out towards his chest, smashing him
against the cement wall.
He pulled away from the wall and tried to make a quick jab at my stomach. I
clenched my abdomen and blocked with my forearm.
My arms straightened and held the gun up. I fired.
My attacker groaned but continued to fight. He was unstable.
I swung my foot into a perfect round-house kick. Knocking his arrogant smile side
ways. He rolled down the stairs at an unusual position.
Next contestant please.