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

their epicenter.

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

bottom up.

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.

Arrogent son-of-a-gun.

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.