Some authors, Steven King comes to mind, used to write in scenes where someone who angered them comes to harm. And there is nothing I find more disgusting than a moral nihilist with a pretension of moral superiority. Seriously, there is one who would elect a corrupt mass murdering psychopath as president so that he/she/it (he had the operation) can feel good about itself.
And I quote:
"Just remember however yoy (sic) vote. I'll Be cancelling your vote with mine."
This piece of excrement doesn't care how many of us will be murdered so that it will feel good about itself. And speaking of hypocrisy, while I didn't choose to be disabled and living on Social Security this inhuman being chose to obtain and use a concealed carry permit while openly supporting the traitors (yes, I know it's an insult to traitors) who will murder American citizens for being armed.
What can be done with a blood drenched murderer who points at you and scream that you are the murderer?
Well, for the moment I'll just mock it.
He would fly to Washington was on American Airlines flight 23. The Boeing 727 aircraft would make a stop at Chicago and then Stone would stay overnight at a Washington hotel before speaking to the committee.
But there was an interruption.
Stone sat in an isle seat in the coach class and was writing in an open notebook. This was another chapter in the novel which described the construction of five sublight starships: Exodus, Humanity, Courage, Achievement, and Guardian. They were two stage vessels propelled by an inertial confinement fusion drive that used Deuterium and Helium-3 for fuel.
As he roughed out the details of vessels Stone heard shouting from the middle of the coach class section.
A tall bearded man in his mid-twenties with long dark brown hair, blue eyes, and glasses, had taken one of the flight attendants as a hostage with a small automatic pistol. The hijacker was also shouting Marxist slogans.
Great, thought Stone, another fucking Hero of the World Proletariat.
Stone closed the notebook and shifted the pen to the left hand to serve as a makeshift dagger. With the notebook in his right hand He watched as the hijacker moved back towards the rear of the aircraft.
The hijacker spun with his hostage as he moved backwards down the aisle. As the hijacker was faced away from Stone he suddenly stood up and stepped into the aisle. And as the hijacker turned towards him he threw the notebook at the face and surged forward. The pen was pointed down in the left fist and with the palm of the right hand to guide and add force to the blow he stabbed the hijacker just under the lens in the right eye. With the open palm of the right hand he made another blow to drive the pen further into the brain.
The hijacker fell to the deck.
Stone reached down and picked up the weapon. It was a Walther PPK, the Polizeipistole Kriminalmodell, in the original 7.65 millimeter caliber. The weapon still had the Waffenamt stamp for weapons issued by the Third Reich.
Nice. He thought. Perfect weapon for a murderer.
He pulled back the slide and ejected a round.
Loaded.
At least six rounds.
I think.
With the weapon in a two hand grip at the eye level Stone moved forward into the first class section. There he found the other two hijackers. They were screaming at the passengers with each one was holding a PPK to the head of a flight attendant. The closest of the two was facing away from him.
Stone aimed at the center of the back and fired two rounds. As the nearest hijacker dropped to the deck he now focused on the other. He carefully lined the sights on the right eye of the assailant.
Focus.
Hold breath.
He pulled the trigger.
A red spot appeared below the eye.
Blood and brains sprayed from the back of the head and the assailant dropped to the deck.
It was over.
Stone knelt down and gently laid the weapon on the deck. He then stood and spoke.
“Could someone tell the Captain that all the hijackers are down?”
On the ground he was personally debriefed by the head of the FBI field office in Chicago, who in turn was stunned to hear that Stone wanted no publicity about his actions on the aircraft.
“I don’t understand?”
Stone replied in the sergeant’s voice.
“Sir, we are at war. Our enemy, such as these hijackers, see normal people as either things to be used or trash to be disposed of. And they absolutely hate those who raise a hand in their own defense. They are driven by emotion and the primary objects of their hatred are those who dare to stand against them. Any publicity on my actions in this incident will be an effective death sentence. Do you understand, sir?”
The senior agent stared for a moment before answering.
“Yes...yes, sir.”
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