“You look like you’re good with computers.” The man in line jabs at me, not a question but a statement.

Huh?

I take in his attire, cargo pants and a t-shirt a shade of beige that should have been left in the 80’s. His dusty blonde hair is past receding, and his eyes are a little too blue.

There’s always at least one strange person in an airport, it brings out the weirdest parts of people. The way that everyone thinks their own family is strange, and then you see a family together and are reminded they have their own quirks and routines.

“Uh, thanks I guess?” I respond, turning back toward the check-in desk.

“Could I get your passport and boarding pass please sir?” The smiley brunette chirps at me.

My god, she’s stunning.

After checking my luggage and papers she lets me go, her eyes and smile lingering on mine a moment longer than necessary, I hold her gaze with a smile, causing her cheeks to heat.

Fucking focus Nate, Jesus.

After grabbing my second coffee of the day, I hear a commotion to my left, my head whips to the check-in desk. The strange guy screams at the woman at the desk, demanding her to look again.

Nothing I hate more than men who think it’s acceptable to scream at the creatures who bought us into the fucking world in the first place.

Where is the security in this place? I abandon my coffee, not in the mood for this snivelling dick.

I stride over toward the desk, “Is there a problem here?”

“Yeah, this fucking idiot cannot do her job properly. I told her the passport is new, she’s saying it’s fake.” He spits, his poor dental hygiene invading my personal space.

“The question wasn’t for you.” I retort in his direction.

I turn towards the woman, her shoulders relaxing a little when I push the freak off of the desk and out of her personal space.

“I didn’t say fake sir but I checked three times as you requested but your identification isn’t verified, he’s not on any of the databases. I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do.” She professes, her eyes shooting down, shame in her expression.

“You heard her, take it up with someone else.”

His eyes narrow, his canines flashing as he sneers, “Typical fucking woman, you can never do anything right can you? Fuck this.” He begins to walk away, but my better judgment decides against it, I step in front of him, my body a steel wall before him.

“Apologise,” my voice becomes nothing short of lead.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE. WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” He screams in my direction.

“I’m a man you do not want to piss off today, apologise.”

“Dude I don’t know what you’re on, but I will seriously fuck you up if you don’t get out of my way right now!” He screams, attempting, and I use that word loosely, to punch at my chest.

“No, I don’t think you will. I really wouldn’t want to ask a third time.”

The young woman's eyes flick between the two of us, shock plastered on her pretty face.

“Sir it’s okay there’s no need, he’s just upset.”

I nearly snarl, furious she feels she has to respond with kindness to this piece of shit.

My head whips to her, spotting her name tag I reply, “Anastasia? You seem lovely, but this pathetic excuse of a human does not deserve your pity.” I make my smile warm, ensuring she doesn’t receive the anger currently flooding me.

She opens her mouth to speak, but then simply nods, Jesus, who made her this compliant?

He squirms in the position I’ve boxed him in, and with a glance at the long queue forming behind my shoulder, I see that he’s ashamed, not of his behaviour though, I’m sure.

He huffs with an enthusiasm I want to bleed from him.

“Fine. I’m fucking sorry alright?” He whispers, unable to hold eye contact.

“You’re going to try that again and mean it.”

I begin squeezing the back of his neck, pressing on the precise tendon that will cause a considerable amount of pain.

He screeches, everyone in the airport turning towards our direction.

To my left I hear keys jangling, a security guard far past his sell-by date, indulging in what suspiciously looks like something stronger than coffee, slouches towards us.

I remove my hand immediately.

“Everythin’ alright here Annie?” The guard asks, his eyes flicking between the three of us, more concerned about what might as well be a flask than those who he is supposed to be protecting.

“Fine, Cliff. Just a misunderstanding.”

“Mhm, dandy.” I insist. “The gentleman here was just apologising for his curt manner.” I turn to the fuckwit beside me, searing his skin with my stare.

His pathetic body hunches in defeat, his face oozing with resignation for the situation.

“I apologise for the way I spoke to you, it wasn’t acceptable. I think I might have my old one anyway, it’s not expired yet.” He speaks with something I would be convinced is sincerity If my hand wasn’t on his neck a few minutes ago.

After watching the two men then scuttle off towards another desk, I return to the lounge, double-checking my gate.

Now closing in 15 minutes.

Fucking fantastic.

I dart past an elderly couple, making a mental I owe you to whoever sat above. After boarding the plane, I find my seat, and as it slowly begins to fill I slump with relief that I’m sat alone.

They announce the safety warnings, and the pilot then babbles on about the weather, it was all just noise at this point.

A quiet ding rings and the pilot announces that another passenger is to be let on, to my miss fucking Fortune, it’s him.

His eyes dart around and if it weren’t for that being his usual behaviour earlier, I would be concerned. He looks at his ticket and then the letters and numbers above the seats. His gaze stops at my row. No. No fucking way.

He reddens when he sees that I’m the one sitting beside him, he hobbles towards me, his eyes looking anywhere but mine. Good.

I have the aisle seat, always do, I like to see what’s going on at all times.

“Uhm.” He stutters, unable to get his words out,” Would you mind just-“ I don’t fill the sentence for him, or give him any recognition on my face of his presence, he may as well not exist, if he can’t speak for himself, that isn’t my problem, he had no problems speaking earlier.

“Can I help you sir?” The stewardess asks him.

“No. No thanks. I was just getting to my seat.” He looks at me expectantly.

She nods in acceptance, darting towards her next task.

“So could you budge please dude?” He asks, still unable to hold my eye.

“No, find another fucking seat, in the cargo. Anywhere but next to me.”

His eyes widen, is that surprise in his expression? Was my squeezing of his neck, not a clear enough message I couldn’t stand him?

He mutters something unintelligible, he hauls his hand luggage from the floor, trudging off to find a space.

The pilot announces our journey time, listing off some more babble, about the fact this is his last flight before his holiday with his family.

After about ten minutes my bladder wins a mental battle, I know it isn’t good but I make a point to never use the restroom on flights, I didn’t like risking missing something vital, a habit of mine I bought into adulthood, observation, to quite a severe extent. I shoot off straight ahead, getting an eyeful of a man’s behind as he picks his kid's toys up, fucking Christ couldn’t men grow some and shave down there? It’s repulsive, no one should have to go near that.

After a few more rows I spot a woman with discomfort on her face, spaced between two men she clearly didn’t know, her body clamped together due to the fucking imbeciles sat each side of her who thought it acceptable to spread their legs to a near 90°.

The one on her right slouched into his seat, and the one on her left wore a sleazy expression on his face, leaning far too close than necessary and immersed in whatever shit was playing on his screen.

I was always taught to be subtle, and elusive, to never draw too much attention to myself, but also just enough to blend right in. I admit that sometimes I veer off that course, having to go against my taught instincts.

I place my palm over the man’s screen, his brows drawn in confusion and an angry look on his face as he whips his headphones off, that look quickly diminishes when he locks eyes with me.

“Comfy?” I dart in his direction, entirely rhetorical, I couldn't give two shits how comfortable this guy is.

“Excuse me? Who are you? Is this the airline's uniform nowadays?” He attempts a joke, an incredulous look on his face, if it were possible given my position above him, he looks down at me, taking in my grey t-shirt and dark blue acid-washed jeans, I’m a simple man, and given my work, a subtle one.

“You should want to correct your tone. Are you uncomfortable?” I direct the latter to the lady in the middle, her expression startled when she realises it’s her who I’m talking to.

“Well, I’d prefer more leg room sure.” She says in a sweet tone none of us deserve.

“You heard her, move your fucking legs, have some basic manners, you as well.” I not so lightly tap the shoulder of the guy facing the window, his quick reaction confirming he was indeed listening in.

“Fucking joke.” The guy nearest to me mutters, wow, prick had a death wish.

I survey the area around us finding no staff nearby**, **lowering myself into a crouch,

”What’s your name?” I ask him at a volume only he and I can hear.

He looks puzzled at first, following with,”Who the hell are you, that’s none of your business.”

I flash a wolfish grin, ”You made it my fucking business when you decided to invade this woman’s personal space. So I’ll ask you again, what’s your name?” Something in my tone seems to register with him, but instead of compliance, I get panic.

His head darts around quickly, recognising the danger I represent, looking for someone to help him.

“Look at me.” An unspoken warning resides in my voice and his head snaps to me immediately, ”Give me your name.”

He licks his dry lips feverishly, his eyes darting around, not actually looking at anything, biding for time.

“Derek.”

I roll my eyes, my irritation clear on my face. He reads my expression and continues,

”James, Derek James.” His eyes flooded with shame.

I smile at the girl in the middle, her expression startled but appreciative. They're lucky I didn’t cut their legs off with the mood I was in currently.

“Derek, I’m going to say this once, this is an eight-hour flight. I’m used to surveying, and watching for long periods. I love it. Do you know what my sole focus will now be for the remainder of this flight?” I ask, genuinely wanting him to answer.

He shakes his head, his chest moves a little quicker. “Keep your fucking legs to yourself and you won’t have to find out. Goes for you too.”

I move from my crouched position, almost laughing at the way their legs immediately snap together.

I roll my shoulder backwards, stretching the knots in my neck.

Did I mention my profession? No? We’ll get to that. Or, have you guessed already?

I stride for the toilet, relieved when I see that it’s vacant.

I finish drying my hands when something gleams in the corner of my eye, I reach for the minuscule object. A chip? I rock the silver square back and forth with my thumb and forefinger in the light. The motherboard is visible, it could be nothing, a careless human mistake of someone bustling with their pockets.

But it could be something, and who keeps a computer chip in their pocket? No sane person anyway. I could take it, and confiscate it, being slightly tech savvy I can assume it needs some sort of power to be useful whether that's to actually be installed by a computer itself. On the other hand, there’s a chance it may not need a host, just a connecting device. Fuck, this cannot happen, not now.

I can’t leave this here. A child could accidentally grab it, or any other unsuspecting innocent person. I need to keep a hold of it. It’s better within my control, I hold the power that way. I check the toilet thoroughly for any trick switches or anything out of place. Breathing out the breath I was holding I then step out of the toilet, painfully aware of the object in my jean pocket.

I do a quick sweep of the people in front of me they all seem perfectly normal, I’d become adept at spotting suspicion, though I had to camouflage myself, you could almost always tell when someone else was trying to do the same thing. A citizen wouldn’t take a second glance, but when you live and breathe as other people, you spot it a mile off.

I walk unhurriedly, taking in my surroundings, families, and elderly couples. Nothing as of yet. I walk further, my phone in hand, briefly glancing at the people before me, taking in as much of their person as I can. I spot a gentleman, in dark clothing, maybe mid-fifties, his hair is swooped back in a way that speaks to his need for attention. No, not him.

I go back to my seat, my palm placed firmly on the pocket the chip sat in.

The pilot announces takeoff. No. Not fucking now. I crack my neck once again, a soothing gesture, a centring one. I need to focus.

I wait until we’re cruising, resuming my surveillance. I can rule out first class, and business, they wouldn’t travel to those areas if they didn’t have to, which, if this is sabotage, a protest of some sort, they wouldn’t, they must be in economy.

I make my way towards the toilet, wanting to check if anything has been altered in there, or fitted since we took off, they might not have had time to yet. I note a man entering, pale in complexion, and with thick dark hair, so groomed you could assume it was a toupee, he retrieves something from his leather jacket pocket, it irked me that he had kept it on. Don’t jump to conclusions Nate, focus. The package in his hand is small, rectangular and about 4 inches long.

I increase my pace, reaching him before he shuts the door, I dart in closing it behind us.

“Excuse me! What on earth? You’ll have to wait your turn!” I was surprised at the London accent coming from him, it didn’t match his appearance. Though his genuine surprise and embarrassment spoke of something true and not suspicious. Still, I have to be certain.

“Show me what’s in your hand.”

His brows furrow, his cheeks reddening.

“I shan’t be doing that! Do you work here or something? This is highly unethical sir!”

I hold out my hand, unwilling to ask again.

I stand firm and stubborn, a deep breath later he gives in and hands me the object.

I unwrap it slowly, removing it from its plastic box, fucking anesol? You have to be kidding me.

“It’s a condition! It’s very common you know!”

Fuck, Fuck! There’s no time for this.

I leave the toilet without a word, my head whipping back to economy, I nearly step on the toy belonging to the man’s children with the unappealing behind.

Picking it up I hand it to him, he appears engrossed in his phone, something on the screen stealing his attention from his surroundings. I hand it to the child instead, his hands making grabbing motions for the small furry lion. My pulse picks up a little, something isn’t right. I snatch a glance at his phone, a call appears on his screen, and he declines it immediately. Strange. The screen then goes back to his messages, the recipients stating, ’Get it done. The boss will have our heads otherwise.’

He types his response, ’Code red, I’ve lost the chip.’

Fire licks at my skin, and I move as I was taught. In three seconds, his face meets the floor, his hands clasped within a cable tie.

My assigned target will have to wait.