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35,000 Feet – Economy Cabin
"Everyone stay put. Bullets don't have names," the lead hijacker barked as his crew swept the aisle.
One gunman stopped at a row where a man hid behind a newspaper.
"Paper down," he ordered, muzzle leveled.
The paper lowered revealing scarlet eyes.
The gunman hesitated. "Your eyes…"
That single heartbeat was enough.
Shhhhf!
Ten [Shadow Ninja] moved at once hands flashing to their waists, steel whispering from sheaths. A storm of throwing blades cut the air.
CLANG! CLANG! THUNK!
Screams. Passengers dove for the floor. Five-six hijackers dropped, some clutching arms and shoulders… others not moving at all.
"Don't fire into the cabin!" the leader shouted, panicked. "Windows—pressure—"
The [Shadow Ninja] had no such qualms. Their mission didn't include diplomacy.
Another volley of shuriken clipped overhead panels and seatbacks; one unlucky passenger yelped, a dart lodged in his jeans.
BANG!
A single shot caught a [Shadow Ninja] center mass.
He didn't fall.
He dissolved—collapsing into black mist that vanished into the floor seams.
"What—what is that?!" a hijacker gasped.
The shadows traded a glance and, without a word, fell back in a blur vaulting seats, streaking toward the forward curtain.
First Class
They burst through straight into five more gunmen.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Muzzles flared. Shadows split and slipped along the ceiling line; steel flashed back. Five bodies thumped to the carpet in perfect rhythm.
Nine stunned first-class passengers stared.
"Who are you people?" someone choked out.
The [Shadow Ninja] ignored them, fanning to the forward exit. One checked a watch, tapped twice now.
Three shadows gripped the lever and pulled.
KRAKOOM!
Air howled. Pressure slammed through the cabin. Anything not bolted down surged toward the gap. The closest shadows let go, sucked into the night black wings snapping open as they glided into the darkness.
The wind roared on. People further back clutched armrests and seatbelts, eyes wide and unblinking as oxygen masks dropped.
The remaining shadows vaulted through the breach one after another, vanishing into the star-streaked sky.
Night Sky over Europe
They rode the wind, gliders steady, the world below turning from velvet night to a dim, gray horizon Germany on approach.
Mission: continue.
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Queens – Early Morning
Across an ocean, Sylas paused over his toast.
One by one, system prompts lit his vision.
[Eliminated: 8 Criminals → +8 Justice Points]
[Eliminated: 8 Criminals → +8 Sin Points]
[Opened aircraft door mid-flight → multiple passengers expelled, including pilot → crash imminent → +100 Sin Points]
Sylas blinked, stunned. "…You've got to be kidding."
The idea landed hard: he could act through the [Shadow Legion], earn points without lifting a finger, and without fatigue.
"Uh—Aunt May, I need to grab something upstairs!" he called, already moving.
"Breakfast first!" she said, setting a plate down. "And why are you up so early?"
"Morning runs are good for you," he said, jogging in place with a grin he didn't exactly feel.
She smiled. "Then fuel up."
He shoveled down a few bites, mind racing, then excused himself, double-timed to his room, and swept a hand through the air.
Shhhh—
Shadow after shadow peeled free, slipping out the window into daylight.
"If I've got a Legion," Sylas muttered, "I'd be an idiot not to use it."
He headed back downstairs, grabbed his jacket, and stepped into the sun. "I'm going out, Aunt May!"
"Be safe!" she called.
Click. Door shut. The morning felt brighter than it should have.
---
Germany – On the Ground
Boots hit dirt. The remaining [Shadow Ninja] folded their gliders and drew out the Pig Talisman tracker. The western dragon's head glowed that way.
They sprinted, silent and tireless, cutting across a roadside service area toward a parked off-road truck whose driver had just finished fueling.
"Hey! Move it!" the man shouted, leaning from his window.
A shadow appeared at his door, yanked it open, and plucked him out like a doll. The rest slipped into the seats with surgical precision.
The engine turned. Tires chirped. The truck fishtailed onto the road.
"Hey! They stole my truck! Call the police!" the driver yelled at the station attendant.
Inside the cab, the navigator shadow tilted the tracker and smacked the driver's shoulder twice.
Wrong way.
The driver shadow grimaced, cranked the wheel, and threw a full-lane U-turn, barreling back past the stunned owner.
The man's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?! The nerve!"
The shadows didn't notice. Even if they had, they wouldn't have cared.
Target locked.
Bavaria. Clocktower.
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