Tiredly, Justin tilted his head to the side, listening to the continuous clicking of Cynthia’s fingers on the keys of the laptop as she fine tuned his ear piece so the sound was clearer. His eyes were heavy as he glanced through the window of the jet, a sigh passing his lips. Flying wasn’t his favourite pastime. It wasn’t that he was afraid of heights; on the contrary, he loved heights, especially when he had to jump from them but it was motion sickness he wasn’t enjoying. He was thankful Emmett had let them use his private jet, courtesy of his late lover George Shickel, and not made them fly coach with the antsy children. Crowds weren’t his favourite thing either. “This is your pilot speaking. Our estimated time of arrival in Rome is approximately 1800 hours. That, Mr Taylor, is 6pm also known as dinner time” Justin rolled his eyes, muttering annoyed curses under his breath as Drew continued. “I would urge you all to return to your seats and pack away all electrical items, Miss Munro” It was Cynthia’s turn to grumble as she shut off the laptop and tossed the microphone back to Justin, who slipped it into his pocket. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at his reflection in the window; his tired eyes and his pale face. You’d think he hadn’t slept for a month. “What the hell is that!?” Drew’s panicked voice came over the PA system as he spoke to his co-pilot, David. Unbuckling himself, the blond pulled himself to his feet to see what was going on when the plane shook, sending him toppling backwards, sliding half the length of the plane before Cynthia gripped his wrist, tugging him back to his seat as the plane shook violently. She managed to get Justin buckled back in, taking a deep breath as she watched Justin look sideways out the window into pitch black sky. He could have sworn I was light a moment ago. “Mr Taylor, Miss Munro; you must get out the plane immediately! Something’s dragging us down!” Jumping up, the female secured her laptop bag over her shoulder before grabbing a parachute. Her friend followed her, attaching the ear piece as he straightened his cargo pants, attaching the holsters round his thighs as he let Cynthia put the parachute on his back. Zipping his jumper up fully, he let the sleeves hang over his hands as he gripped the door handle. Glancing back towards the cockpit, he unlatched the door and allowed himself to be sucked out, dragging Cynthia with him. As he was thrust through the darkness, his hands still gripping his companions, his chest started to ache. Then it got to the point where he wanted to kill himself it was so sore. Then the darkness disappeared and they were sailing through the warm air towards the ground; barely remembering to open their ‘chutes. Glancing about once more for the remains of the plane, he looked momentarily confused, then he started to panic. They is no way in hell a plane, no matter the size, can just vanish! Maybe he shouldn’t have smoked all that marijuana last night. He vaguely felt himself hit the ground, Cynthia landing on him, hard. “Jusss….” her voice was slightly slurred as she strained her neck to see her friend, who in turn was lain there, eyes closed with his mouth slightly ajar; breath coming out in shallow puffs. Her eyes widened as she rolled over, “Justin!” she repeated, voice louder and her underlying panic evident. Eyes unseeing, the boy’s lips curled into a grimace, “Cyn, you’re crushing my balls…” Smacking his chest slightly, she rolled off him and pulled herself to her feet, un-attaching the parachute cords from round her waist as she watched Justin get up, albeit slowly and rather painfully. “Freeze! Drop your weapons, now! Or I will shoot!” Now Justin’s Italian wasn’t that good, but even he knew the basics of what was being said even though he only made out ‘drop’ and ‘weapons’. Slowly, the blond drew his guns before letting them topple to the ground. “Now kick them away American!” Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, he kicked one gun, then the other away with his boot, never once taking his eyes off the policia. The Italian motioned for his partner to grab the handguns before cuffing the two American’s. Allowing themselves to be led away, Justin found himself turning to Cynthia; a cocky smirk on his face, his voice loud enough to be heard by the Italian policemen. “Well…there are better ways to start your honeymoon, wouldn’t you agree darling?” He was rewarded by Cynthia sticking her tongue out and one of the men knocking him out with the butt of their gun.