39
At All Costs

The Taxi ground to a halt as it touched down near the airport. Luna scrolled among her cards on the film as she stepped off the vehicle. 

She kept her steps close to the glass walls, attempting to catch a glimpse of the remnants of what has transpired a month ago. 

There was tape, and robots encircled the wreckage area. Plane was snapped in half, its paint heavily scratched, one of its engines was crushed beneath the weight of the plane as it drawn out its Imbalance and landed colossally.

The Film lit up for her as her fingers touched the glass as she was drawn into what she was looking at.

California Legal Code
All traffic wreckage survivors are entitled to wreckage inspection. Nothing will be cleared until an inspection has been made, or a unilateral concession of such an activity by the affected party.

Two men in uniforms approached her as she turned to seek a counter. One of them is holding a handheld radar, his index finger on the trigger.

“Last name Syracuse?” The other officer beckoned at her.

“Yes, officer.”

He pulled out a small slate previously sheathed at his belt, and held it to his right to show his partner. Murmurs were exchanged at each other, and a few glances were made at her before they kicked out of it.

“Come with us.”

She marched behind the two officials across the terminal. The air-con and the passing looks from patrons gave her no particular concern. It felt like hours until they finally reached the gates. Luna noticed even more security detail parked in front of the locked glass door with their own clearance setup.

She checked the airfield beyond the window. It was its own enclave away from all the other air traffic. Just the pile and nothing else.

The officer in black stepped forward as the two in blue stepped aside. He presented her with a fingerprint reader that is attached to a larger readout behind it. Luna obliged and gave her finger to the sensor. It flashed white and the officer retracted the sensor.

Off came her gloves and her fringe as she stilled for the beam to pass her and called the green light. The officer in black allowed the royal blue fleece to pass him and out to the airfield where two men with sawed-off shotguns and full gear walked her to the wreckage.

Luna peered at the remains of their once-esteemed plane as her footsteps close in. Her gloves went in her pocket as she squatted down and pushed away some small parts of the aluminum frame as the cleared engine was crushed against the ground. She picked at the metal slab. A totaled laptop still with a cord attached for power. 

More searching. Luna briefly shot a look at the armed men whose emotions are obscured through their one-way visors and facial masks, then back at the rubble. She used a piece of aluminum to scrape away fractured glass. Under the soiled cotton that used to serve as the innards of a seat, she found an orange cylinder, with a giant cube mounted to it mildly covered in ash and scratched heavily. She took the eight-inch wide contraption in her hands.

The officer in black materialized behind her.

“We have recorded that this is in fact, a flight recorder.” He eyed the cylinder. “We have no recognizance of the ‘cube’ part of the mechanism, I’m afraid.”

A shot rang, it hit somewhere close, the officer fell and clutched his leg. Luna stood before quickly one of the men grabbed her and sheathed his shotgun and pulled a pistol at the assailant.

Two shots were exchanged as she ducked beneath her jacket and the arm extended to fire. She clutched the black box in her embrace as she strained to turn and noticed the down officer gasping for air before collapsing. Another shot zipped through the air and knocked down the other free guard.

Luna noticed the assailant in the overcoat turning his pistol at her as the pair rushed toward the gate. Sirens were heard as helicopters and autos reached the airfield. As these vehicles touched down and their doors opened, the hitman fired directly at the wreckage. He fired around a dozen shots when one finally hit something vital and exploded.

The guard hid Luna under him and shielded the blast from behind the sealed gate door.

She could feel her own breathing ramp up as she witnessed the shooter pull the pistol up to his head and fired. There was a rag doll jerk towards the bullet’s direction, before his body limped and fell, unlike the law enforcement that were briefly knocked back.

Another set of sirens sounded within the airport as the man released her and staggered away to another enforcer that quickly held him and called his transceiver. Luna’s eyes are locked on her own jacket with the color of her pupils. 

Security Lockdown Issued
Shooter seen at airfield. All flights canceled or delayed until further notice.

The entire terminal suddenly lit up in noise and wailing over plans being delayed and their vacations being scrapped. Some children cried over the noise that is being pumped over the loudspeakers. Those with the headset on remained still, however. A few irate customers took their anger out on the customer service desks.

The sirens paused as some police officers marched towards her, including the one that helped the guard after his encounter. One stood behind her. Four men stood before her and deliberated amongst themselves. A few nodded and movements of the head were made in her direction, and one nodded and three of them dismissed.

“Miss Syracuse, we will need a brief account from you.”

Her thoughts are interrupted by the news announcements now pumped into the airport.

“A shooter has been identified near the West wing at the Los Angeles International Airport,” the anchor announced to the country as media aircraft attempted to close in. “Moments ago, he opened fire and incapacitated a few airport officials before detonating the wreckage of the ‘Wonder Crash’ just weeks past. An investigation has been opened.”