The tale.

HIS tale.
The story of a hunted gunman.
Vladimir's story.
...
Well, Vladimir's stories.

Plane N#666.

It was calm. The soothing sound of the aircrafts engine entered into Vladimir's ears. The smell of baked food entered his nostrils. Everybody in the plane seemed so calm and serene in their synthetic-covered seats.
All, except one.
Himself.
Vladimir felt his stomach turn upside-down, at the same time his face went completely white. He pulled a face, moaning in pain.
Vladimir hated planes. He was wondering why he was in one in the first place.
Well, he did know, but he would have preferred otherwise.

Vladimir was seated next to an emergency exit. He clung to his chair, his fingers almost piercing the fabric. He bit on a four-leaf clover he had found outside, and the horse hoof glinted in the sunlight as he nervously glanced out the window each second. He buckled his seat belt as tightly as he could after he felt the plane budge. His teeth began to chatter. A few sweat drops appeared on his temples.
The engine of the plane roared behind him, as it began to advance a few centimeters. With a high-pitch shriek, Vladimir fell unconscious.

(The waittresses thought he was asleep, thus did not budge.)

He woke up, one eye shot open. He glanced out the window. The blue sky was very blue indeed. Sapphire blue. You could almost reach it by one's arm length. The clouds below also seemed calm.
Wait.
Clouds... Below?
Vladimir threw himself onto the chair again, panting heavily. He glanced everywhere, in search for a parachute. His fingers dug into the fabric of the chair.

Unlike most of you may know, Vladimir had a reason to be nervous.
A few criminals he met before had snuck up into the plane. And he was the only one to know it. They came for his head. He needed to find an excuse, to jump out of the plane in utter discretion.
Vladimir glanced out the window, drops of sweat going down his forehead.
'Are you ok?'
'Aaaahh!' Vladimir squeaked out.
He looked up at the speaker. A waittress. They were doubting something. But it was a cute waittress. Well, like all of them, anyways. Vladimir coughed, throwing the criminals off his mind, sitting up straight, taking a deep voice to sound, 'cool'.
'Erm, no miss. Nothing.'
The waittress raised one eyebrow, then turned away. Vladimir tensed into his seat again, eyes wide open, teeth chattering. The criminals. If he forgot about them, he's as good as dead. He glanced out the window. He looked down, and put his hand over his eyes. Heights.
A question came into his mind.
Hey, when you go to the toilets, where does all the... Well, all that go?
Vladimir hit himself on his forehead with the palm of his hand. The toilets! Of course!
Vladimir carefully unbuckled himself, keeping the four-leaf clover into his mouth, and putting away the horse hoof into one of his pockets. He put a hand on a waittress' shoulder, and as she turned around abruptly, he asked, 'Ummm... Where are the toilets?'
The waittress pointed forwards, and answered, 'Up front.'
Vladimir gave a smile to the waittress, and continued forwards. He continued forwards for a pretty long time, in his opinion. He noticed a door in front of him. It had a metal knob. Vladimir grabbed at the knob, then pulled at the door, making it swing open.
He closed the door quickly, catching himself panting. He swung his arms around fanatically. Where are the parachutes?!?
Vladimir opened his eyes. He hadn't noticed he was in the middle of a...
Control room.
Vladimir squeaked, as he just noticed that he had pressed on many buttons as he flailed his arms. But another wave of nervosity ran up his body and mind when he saw the most horrible vision a non-sane (not Vladimir's case) man could see.
No.
Pilots.

Vladimir squealed, and flinged his arms frantically around him, as he tried to switch the buttons back to their place, but nothing did. He just made it worse. As he fell onto a red chair, he heard a banging coming from a closet.
He put his hand on the knob of the closet, then pulled. Locked?
Vladimir pulled harder. He noticed something was wrong. He turned the doorknob, and he was sent flining through the air as the door banged open. Vladimir stood up from his recent chte, and looked into the closet, noticing two bagged pilots squirming around.
He walked towards them.
Pilots.
Oh yeah, that's right.
They're the plane pilots.
Vladimir started untying the knots someone had made around both pilots' hands and feet. The pilots mumbled and squirmed, not heard by Vladimir, as cloth were on their mouths. 'Don't worry,' Vladimir said, as he tried to recomfort them, 'I'll get you out of here,'
Vladimir pulled on the knots, trying to take them off. The pilots groaned and mumbled savagely, but Vladimir paid no attention. 'Say,' Vladimir continued, 'I've never seen knots like these. Who-'
Vladimir heard a click at the back of his head. The two pilots sighed deeply. 'Don't move, "Cursed Gunman', or I'll make you another earhole.'
Vladimir's eyes went blank. The criminals! I forgot about them!
Vladimir squeaked as he heard the security being pulled off by the criminal on their gun.
How am I going to get out of this one...

One of the criminals pushed Vladimir out of the way, and cut the knots through the cloth that had being tightened around their mouth and feet and hands. The pilots sighed, but didn't say anything. 'Hey,' the criminal said, pointing his gun at the two pilots, 'You're going to fly us to the nearest airport, got it? Say that we caught the Cursed Gunman.'
The pilots nodded, and sat on their chairs. They stared at the controls.
'So, what're you waiting for?' the criminal asked, shaking his gun at one of the pilots' head.
'The controls...' the pilot answered,
'What about them?'
'Who messed up the controls?!?'
The criminals uttered a short 'huh?' and both looked at Vladimir, mouth gaping. Vladimir smiled like an idiot. Both criminals pointed their guns at Vladimir, one yelling, 'What the hell did you do with the controls, idiot?!'
Vladimir backed slightly as the gun approached his face. 'I-I-I didn't do anything!' he stuttered.
'Yeah right!'
One of the criminals kicked Vladimir onto a chair, leaving him in front of the controls. Vladimir gaped blankly at all the buttons and such that he loomed upon presently.
'You have 10 second to fix what you did to the controls,' said the other criminal, pointing his gun at Vladimir's head. Vladimir felt the gun drop slightly on the back of his head, and he squeaked.
'1,'
Vladimir looked at the controls, and lifted a hand.
'2, 3, 4, 5, 6,'
Vladimir felt the seconds pass like an eternity. This is probably where it all ends...
'7, 8,'
Sigh.
'9,'
Goodbye, cruel world!
'10. Sorry, mate,'
The criminal shot. Vladimir shot his head sideways, dodging the bullet. Vladimir uttered a short 'Hm?' as he noticed that the bullet hadn't shot his head. He looked at where the bullet landed. Vladimir squeaked. Both of the criminals squeaked also, and the pilots just shrieked of terror.
'The...' one criminal stuttered.
Vladimir completed.
'The altimeter. We're screwed.'

Soon after the words that Vladimir spoke, the plane did start to fall. The people didn't see it, but they felt it alright. It was like gravity was going insane, going near 0. You began flying in the air as the plane fell down. The pilots were still shrieking, and Vladimir caught himself doing so, also. The criminals were desperately trying to open a bag. Vladimir stopped screaming his lungs out, and 'floated' to them.
"What's in that bag?!" he had to yell, because of the deafening noises being shot out of everyone's mouthes in the plane.
"Parachutes!" one said, still trying to open the bag.
Vladimir looked at them with wide eyes. "How many?" he asked.
The criminals stared back at him, then stared back at each other. One quickly turned the bag around, making leashes flap in the air. His eyes widened. "How many?!" Vladimir repeated, yelling.
The criminal looked back at him. Even though he didn't answer, Vladimir understood. "It's MINE!" one criminal yelled. They both started fighting each other over the bag. The pilots were just cowards, trying to keep on the ground by attaching themselves to the control table. Vladimir then hovered through the door, kicking it so that it would open. He floated by many people, uttering "Excuse me" or "Pardon" as they were screaming. He had to budge many people. Some were trying to unlock the security door. "No! Don't! Vladimir yelled. But it was too late. The door shot open. About ten people were caught by the sudden air pressure, and were shot out of the plane at exaggerated speeds. Vladimir hooked himself onto a chair, as many other passengers did, to not get thrown out of the plane. Only did Vladimir realize it was at that moment that the whole thing was going in utter chaos. The control room being disabled, and the speed just gaining, the wings slowly started to rip off.
And they did. Vladimir saw them get hurled behind, then just explosing in the air, almost piercing his ears. He clasped them just in time, with his two hands.
Little did he notice that he had taken his hand off the seat. He tried catching it again, but was sucked by the air, outside the plane. he caught the rim of the door. One ordinary man could not poll himself back in, that's for sure, and he knew that well. Various other people then got sucked in, pushing Vladimir with them. Vladimir yelled out as he got pushed out of the plane. As did the other passengers. They started falling. At very high speeds, but slower than the plane, which was much heavier.
Vladimir tried to order the people into a tight pack. "People!" he yelled out. They wouldn't listen. They were all screaming like hell. Vladimir decided that he couldn't prevent the preventless, and thus, he decided to leave them by themselves. He knew he couldn't do anything else to save their lives. Right now, he was the only one he cared of right now. Anyways, if they lived, they could say it was him, thus accusing him even more. Vladimir only understood at that time that he would have to sacrifice many other lives, in order to survive. he had already made the supposition before, but it was shown as truth in this situation. Vladimir closed his eyes. He only opened them when he heard a very familiar screech.
The criminal. He was falling after them. Vladimir caught the criminal in air, then directed him horizontally, instead of vertically. The criminal had the parachute. "Where's the other one?!" Vladimir yelled. The criminal looked back at him with big eyes. "Oh? That one's dead already," he answered, like if nothing happened. Vladimir lifted both his eyebrows, and sighed. Especially that it wasn't the moment to talk about that. He looked down. "People!" he yelled, harder this time. The criminal looked back at him. "What-What are you trying to do?!" he asked, stuttering. "I'm going to save these people!" Vladimir yelled back. "But- there's only one parachute!"
"Exactly!"
"Don't tell me you're thinking about THAT?!"
"Does it look like I'm thinking about something else?!"
"I'm not giving my parachute!"
"You're sharing it, idiot!"
"Nor sharing it!"
Vladimir gripped the other person by the collar of his shirt. "Look," he began, glaring, "If you don't help me save these people, I'll kill you by my gun. So shut up, and do as I say!" The criminal stared back, and then nodded feebly. He started yelling, as did Vladimir. "People!"
The people looked up. Vladimir pointed to the crminal's bag, who gulped. The people then directed themselves horizontally, thu being at the same speed as Vladimir or the criminal. Vladimir looked down. They needed to do this quickly. All the people stacked up near the criminal. "Hang yourselves tightly!" Vladimir yelled. The criminal opened the bag. The parachute shot out. Vladimir got pushed away by it. Damn. Vladimir looked down. Well, seems that I'm going to die now. He smiled slightly. "Heh," he said. Then he opened his eyes. Geez! I'm an idiot!
He took his cloak off, then flapped it about in the wind. He then attached the two sleeves to his waist, one under his two legs. It opened wide up, letting a loud crack pierce the air. Vladimir began falling a little slower than before. Oh Christ, I don't know if I'm gonna make it... Vladimir was above water. He tried to straighten himself, making him go slightly faster. The water splashed out, as he landed into it. A few drops of water flicked down onto the surface. The waves scattered around, then reaching the borders of the large lake. There was nothing for a moment.
Then, bubbles.
A black gloved hand shot out of the water, sending sprinkles of water everywhere. It grabbed the ledge of the lake.

END.

OMG! FAAAAABBBBBB!!!!!
i love it, god that's such a cliff hanger!
Waw, great stuff you got there!
lol, please write more!

Alba xx

Eh, I was thinking of writing down everything Vladimir's accused for. And the ways he got out of the different situations.

Update on Plane 666.

Finished Plane #666, and starting Valley of Water.
Sorry for not updating for so long.

Valley of Water.

"Mmh," Vladimir moaned as he opened his eyes slowly. He slowly lifted one hand to splat it against his forehead, crisping his fingers. "Errgh..." Vladimir's brown hair fell as a mass on the pillow, sending streaks of hair in every direction. As Vladimir took off his hand from his forehead, he noticed that he was not wearing any shirt. His only clothing on the upper part of his body was the long glove on his left hand. He then fully woke up. He also found out that he was on a very clean bed, in a very clean room, with light pouring out of the very clean windows. On the ground, was a very clean carpet, and on the ceiling, a very clean lamp. Vladimir raised one eyebrow. Where am I?
Vladimir then noticed that his shirt and cloak were hanging on a metal bar just next to a wooden cupboard. Vladimir quickly got out of the bed, his black pants being a sort of intruder in the white room. He picked his cloak and shirt with ease, as he was tall, and he quickly put them on. After tightening the cloak with two strips of purple cloth, he looked around, his blue eyes darting round the room. He then picked up his boots, and put them on as well. Vladimir looked out the window. "Eh?" was all he could mutter.
Outside the window was a vast city, with many tall and clich" buildings, that shined in the sunlight. Traffic could be heard somewhere below Vladimir. He also noticed that he was very high above the ground. About the twentieth floor of one building. Vladimir took his eyes off the window, and started walking around the room, thinking. What could I do? Where am I?
Vladimir jumped and squeaked as he heard the door open quietly and slowly. He was astonished when a short but thin man came out of the open door. The short man was wearing black and very clean clothes. The man had a very neat haircut, his black hair being combed back nicely. The short figure looked up at Vladimir, smiling. His green eyes could've been black, but no, it always has to be a different colour. The man was older than Vladimir, that was for sure, seeing the wrinkles on his face. "So you must be the Cursed Gunman," the man said. Vladimir widened his eyes, and stepped back quickly. The short male laughed out loud, putting his two hands on his stomach. He wiped a tear from his eye. "No, don't worry, I'm not here to be hostile towards you," he comforted Vladimir. And it worked. Vladimir calmed down. "Permit me to introduce myself," the man said, straightening, "Ives Bel Isyak, head manager of the secret police station of this city." The word 'police' made Vladimir tense. "I won't be calling you Cursed Gunman everyday, that would be bad for your image," Ives said, smiling, "If you wish, you can tell me your name."
Vladimir stuttered slightly. "Er... Vladimir. Just call me Vladimir." The man smiled, then approached Vladimir. "Seems that you got into a little trouble back then," Ives said.
"What happened?" Vladimir asked.
"Well, we saw you completely drunk, on the rim of uncosciousness, in a bar. Was quite a show, if you ask me," Ives said, laughing. Oh, so that's why I've got a headache... "In your complete sanity whilst you were drunk, you admitted that you were the Cursed Gunman," Ives continued. Vladimir squeaked. "But, luckily for you and for me, one of my men were in the bar at that moment, and brought you here."
"What are you going to do to me?!" Vladimir yelled out, backing away from the small man. The man laughed.
"Now, Vladimir," the man said, "We wish to do nothing to you. We just want your... Help."
"My... Help?" Vladimir repeated.

To be continued...