Dante sat in one of the troop seats towards the back of the aircraft, keeping a close eye on the three human men holding him at gunpoint. The way he figured it, only two out of the three were a real threat: The bald one who'd been driving the van they'd kidnapped him in, and the pilot of the V-22 Osprey they'd brought him to.
However, somebody had to fly the fucking thing. Which would bring the threat down to one.
"Don't bother strapping yourself in," Baldy sneered at him. "You ain't gonna be with us when we land."
Ignoring him, Dante focused on the one he was going to take out first - the chicken shit who'd pissed himself in the van when he'd broken free of the chains.
Or maybe he should take out Baldy first? But then he would be taking the chance that Chicken Shit would shoot him with one of those exploding bullets they claimed to have. He doubted his aim was very good, especially with the way he was shaking, but he might get lucky.
Decisions, decisions.
The pilot he would definitely save for last. By the time he figured out what was going on, it would be too late. He could smell another human in the aircraft, probably the co-pilot waiting in the cockpit.
Dante rubbed a hand over his shaved head as he contemplated his choices.
A loud "click" echoed in the silence, and he dropped it onto his lap again.
Baldy smacked Chicken Shit in the back of his greasy head. "What the fuck are you doin'? Trying to blow up the fuckin' plane? Jesus fucking Christ."
Chicken Shit turned on him. "You gave me an empty gun?" he yelled incredulously. He pulled the trigger again and again. The empty chamber clicked loudly.
He finally gave up and threw his arms in the air. "No bullets? You gave me a gun with no bullets? What the fuck?"
"Calm the fuck down," Baldy told him. "Of course I didn't give you any bullets. Look at you! He barely moves and you're trying to blow a hole in the plane just now!"
Well, that decided things. Baldy needed to go first, as he was the only one that was armed other than the pilot.
"Holy shit." Chicken Shit dropped his gun to the floor where it landed with a clank and ran his hands nervously through his hair. His eyes flew wildly around the plane.
"Relax," Baldy told him without taking his eyes off of Dante. "Nothin's gonna happen."
"Do you need me to leave this with you?" the pilot asked, indicating his own weapon. "Don has another one up front."
Don. The co-pilot.
Dante smiled. The more the merrier.
"Nah," Baldy told the pilot. "I got this. Let's go."
Chicken Shit sank into one of the front seats and dropped his head into his hands as the pilot disappeared into the cockpit.
"I'm gonna fuckin' die. I'm gonna fuckin' die," he mumbled.
Baldy sat down next to him and leaned back. Placing his ankle on his opposite knee, he rested his forearm on his leg and steadied the gun on Dante.
"Might as well get comfy," he told him. "We got about a two-hour flight ahead of us."
Dante felt his first inkling of nervousness as the aircraft taxied onto the runway and lifted into the air. He figured a two-hour flight could mean one of two things: They were either taking him to Vegas, or they were going to dump him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Neither of which would end well for him.
And he doubted Baldy was looking for a new gambling partner.
"Don't talk much, do ya?" he asked Dante.
Chicken Shit had cinched himself in and was now bouncing one leg nervously while he chewed on a thumbnail.
Dante narrowed his eyes on him while keeping Baldy within view out of the corner of his eye. All he needed was a half a second. A half a second when Baldy thought he wasn't paying attention to him and his guard would slip.
They traveled in silence for a good hour or more before Baldy got bored again.
"So what's it like? Being a parasite? Living off the blood of innocent people like a fuckin' mosquito?"
Dante nearly smiled. Did he truly think his childish taunts were going to get a rise out of someone such as him? Besides, right now he was too busy trying to gauge where they were to react to the human's jabs. He needed to exit this aircraft while they were still flying over land. His chances of surviving were much better on land than in water.
"I'm talkin' to you, asshole."
Chicken Shit glanced up briefly as the rear-loading ramp opened, then did a double take when he noticed Dante's complete attention was still on him. His eyes grew as large as saucers in his thin face and he began to visibly sweat, large drops running down his temples to drip off of his chin.
Dante smiled at his increasing fear, exposing his fangs, and hissed at him.
Unbuckling his restraints, Chicken Shit jumped up and pounded on the cockpit door. "Let me in! Let me the fuck in! He's gonna fuckin' kill me!"
"Sit the fuck down!" Baldy yelled. "He ain't gonna do nothin'."
But Chicken Shit was in a full out panic and beyond following orders. He continued to bang on the cockpit door, screaming for them to let him in, to lower the aircraft...anything to get him the fuck out of there. When that didn't work, he stumbled over to the side door, falling into Baldy when they hit an air pocket.
That was all the distraction Dante needed. Moving faster than human eyes could see, he took a running start and launched himself out of the back opening of the aircraft.
In the time it took Baldy to push the skinny one off of him and raise his gun, his prisoner was gone. He started to laugh.
"Well, that was easier than I thought it was gonna be."