Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

All the way to the jet, Tristan kept waiting for the sniper to take him in his sights, and did his best to avoid staying in the open. That, and food that could have been poisoned out of his sight.

Thankfully, their leave from the city came soon enough. Tristan didn't stay in Boston for a single extra minute.

Even in the jet, he stayed tense. After all, the assassin could have broken the plane in some minor way that would make it fall later, when Tristan would have no way of preparing for it.

Not that Tristan could just choose another transport–they were even less safe.

The jet's engineers made all their checks—Tristan insisted they were more careful than usual—and found nothing.

The sight of the ground below the flying jet was not inspiring at all today.

"Did you have enough sleep last night, Mr. Gemello?" Derek asked from the seat opposite of Tristan's. He was eying Tristan with some worry. "Perhaps you should lower your seat's back and take a nap. This is a six-hour flight—it's bound to get boring, anyway."

Tristan huffed.

'I'm looking so worried that even Derek notices?'

"I had a nightmare about our plane crashing," he lied smoothly. "It was so vivid, I can't take it off my mind now. The last thing I want is to sleep."

Derek smiled reassuringly.

"So this is why you were so insistent on doubling the pre-flight checks, Mr. Gemello? Not that I'm against the precaution, as long as it doesn't go against our schedule. Well, if you want to calm your anxieties, why not watch the guides in case of a crash? It will be practical, if nothing else."

Tristan smiled gratefully back.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"A good idea."

He quickly leafed through the booklets with the explanations about oxygen masks and emergency exits on the plane. Then he connected to the plane's Wi-Fi and watched educational videos on the topic online.

It was distracting, but practical, as Derek said. When the plane shook slightly, Tristan knew from that information that it was most likely a slight turbulence—an absolutely normal thing that happened all the time.

He had experienced it plenty of times in all the other flights on the tour, anyway.

But when, about five hours into the flight, Tristan noticed the almost imperceptible shift of background sound around him, he knew it was out of ordinary.

The background noise was always present on a plane. From the wind outside, from the vibrations of the metal, from conversations of other people, and from the machinery at work.

Now, something has changed. Tristan put down his laptop and raised his keen ears, picking at each of the background sounds individually.

The wind, the conversations—they were the same. But the rest… The machinery became quieter, while the machinery seemed to be…

Tristan's eyes shot open in alarm. A chilling feeling filled his gut.

"Derek! Derek, wake up!" Tristan said, reaching out to shake his manager. He took his own advice from earlier and was sleeping in his seat.

At Tristan's shaking, he jolted awake. Tristan immediately gave him a booklet about emergency landings.

"Read this, please."

"Huh?" Derek blinked in a daze, then looked at the booklet. "Why?"

"Just do it," Tristan insisted.

Visibly confused, Derek obediently opened the first page and began reading—aloud.

Tristan listened to him, but his eyes were on the pilot's cabin.

From his estimation of the situation, he expected someone to walk out at any minute.

Derek read past the first two pages of the booklet, when Tristan's expectations were confirmed. The jet's steward walked out, slightly pale but bravely holding onto the mask of professionalism.

"Passengers, please, return to your seats and put on your seatbelts. Due to technical difficulties, our plane must perform an emergency landing. Please, stay calm—I will come to all of you and help you prepare for the landing."

Derek stopped reading and stared at Tristan in shock.

"What? How—" he shook his head and turned toward the steward. Since their seats—the best seats—were also closest to the pilot's cabin, the steward was standing right next to Derek and Tristan. "Please, explain what exactly is going on!"

There was a similar sentiment coming from the seats behind the pair. Those were less comfortable and more packed seats for Tristan's supporting crew—they were almost like economy-class seats on a commercial airline. Compared to them, Tristan and Derek's seats were business class.

It was not the most luxurious of private jets, but it was very functional. Right now, Tristan was happy for that functionality—just as much as he was angry that despite all the checks, the plane was fucking falling!

"Yes, please, explain," Tristan said, forcing himself to not sound threatening. It took effort, but he didn't want the steward to be even more afraid than he was. That would make the man useless.

The steward approached them and leaned forward to speak quietly enough to not be overheard.

"One of our main turbines has suddenly stopped functioning. Our on-flight engineer has no idea why, since all the pre-flight checks showed everything was alright. The pilot is trying to make an emergency landing on the remaining turbine. It's entirely possible!" he immediately assured. "But it's going to be rough."

"A plane like ours can glide for a while even without both turbines," Tristan said, recalling a fact from one of those educational videos. "Thank you, mister. Do you know how much time we have until the actual touchdown?"

"Around ten minutes, maybe less."

Derek's eyes became even more alarmed. He looked at Tristan.

"Please, stay in your seat, Mr. Gemello! The plan will probably shake. And bothering the pilots is ill-advisable."

Tristan shook his head.

"I didn't plan to. But if I may, I'd like to make a message to the rest of my crew. To calm them down."

The steward's shoulders relaxed. He smiled in relief.

"That's a great idea, Mr. Gemello. I will bring you a microphone in a moment."

He walked away. When the man was out of earshot, Derek shuddered visibly.

"Are you a prophet, Mr. Gemello?"