I hear an automatic door slid open and the usual hum of electricity becomes louder as we come to a halt. I shift uncomfortably as my body reacts, buzzing with energy. If I could describe the sensation, I'd say it feels like your foot has fallen asleep, except all over and more annoying. My hood is ripped off and I flinch from the sudden brightness as I'm pushed forward towards a young man. I clench my jaw, bracing myself against any more unwanted momentum changes. Choosing to ignore the guy right in front of me, I look around. The room is rather large, but it doesn't seem that way thanks to one of those cliché boxes in the center that acts as a giant command table. More screens line the entire wall to the left of me, showing everything from security cameras to soccer matches. A whiteboard with badly erased marker lines that looks like it's going to fall any second hangs on the wall facing me, though the black lady sitting on a chair underneath it doesn't seem at all perturbed. A ratty-looking couch is shoved under a long window that faces a hallway with cherry wood-paneled walls and another woman stands in the shadows that the window casts with her arms crossed.

The main guy clears his throat, but I don't look back at him, my attention drawn to the movement of a comatose figure being carried down the hall towards what I'd assume to be an infirmary. Charles. With his helmet off, I catch a glimpse of him, a bald black man with strong features, and try to memorize it. I probably don't want to run into him once he wakes up.

"What's your name?" The guy, I assume to be Colton, asks, but I take a risk and keep ignoring him, craning my head around to see that there are two armed guards besides Blondey still in their raiding attire behind me. Blondey shoves his gun in my face.

"Answer the goddamn question!" he snarls, and I look at the barrel of the gun. My heart jumps to my throat, but I remain completely impassive on the outside, regarding it with little to no interest. The probability of him actually shooting me after chasing me for 20 miles down a highway is low enough that I feel comfortable keeping my mouth shut. I look back towards the room and he huffs in annoyance, letting go of my hands to jump in front of me so I continue to see his gun being pointed at me. I hear the other two guards quickly jump forward to keep me constrained and I use the momentary confusion to flick the bug I've hopefully not ruined with sweat underneath the couch. The boss glances at Blondey annoyed, knowing just as well as I do, he's not going to go through with it. He sighs and looks me up and down, and I return his gaze with a blank stare.

"Maybe a few hours in holding will get your tongue to loosen up" he decides, and I'm jerked away, back through the door.

We hurry through the tiny hall, each arm being held by a separate guy. Not that they need to, as soon as we turn a corner to an exact replica of the last hallway, I completely lose track of all surroundings. We get to the end of the hall and a door automatically opens to the right. The tan carpeting turns into white tiles, the beautiful wood turns into white painted walls and I suddenly stop, my blood turning cold. My two guards run into my back, but I hold firm. One of them grunts in annoyance and comes around to the front of me, pulling me closer to the medical equipment. I resist, but the other guard grabs my shoulder and pushes me forward towards an uncomfortable looking bed. The door opens again, and a short and plump blonde woman comes in. She looks at the guards trying to drag me towards this bed and clucks her tongue in annoyance.

"Let her go." She snaps in a french accent and they immediately do as she says. She sits down at a desk and gestures me towards her. Instead, I stay exactly where I am. Sighing, she motions with her hand and one of the guards forces me closer and I keep a scowl on my face even though I'm sure I'm visibly trembling. She pulls out an ink pad and, not wanting to be pushed again, I let her take my hand and fingerprint it. Luckily she doesn't realize that I'm wearing a glove and that those are not my actual fingerprints.

She goes through the usual medical list of things. She takes my measurements, my blood pressure, my weight, and I grudgingly allowed it to happen under the threat of force. The only thing she had trouble taking was a blood sample. I kept whipping my arm away from her the second the needle came close. Both of the two guards had to physically hold my exposed arm down, and even then it took her a few tries to get the actual vein. She drops the syringe into a sealed bag and I glare at her, but she doesn't seem at all bothered. Unwrapping a small Disney themed band-aid, she sticks it on my arm and the guards pull me up and take me out a door on the other end without bothering to put my handcuffs back on, this one opening up to a hallway with a dark grey color palette.I hope the interior decorator for this place got a raise..

The luxury feeling of the first hallway long gone as we walk through a dimly lit hallway with hard doors until we come to a stop in front of one that looks extremely enforced. Ah, home sweet home. A loud clatter erupts and I jump, only to see a janitor coming out of a door a few feet away. He looks at us all in surprise, then fright as he notices me, and he clutches the handle of his broom so hard his knuckles go white and quickly shuts the door and scurries away. I'm shoved roughly into a plain grey room and one of the guards shut the door, locking me in with the other, but I don't even care at this point as my second wind has long gone, leaving me feeling exhausted. Inside is a metal table and a few chairs nailed to the ground, the classic two-way mirror embedded in one wall, and a naked twin-sized mattress pushed against the other. I look at myself in the mirror as the guard uncuffs me. There are at least three bruises on my face including a small cut above my eyebrow. My hair is a complete mess, still slightly wet from the rain, and my shirt has a rip in the shoulder. I sit down on the mattress with my back against the wall and extend my legs, letting out a small sigh of relief. Remembering the bug I planted, I extract the earpiece connected to it from my sleeve, and fake scratching my ear so I can put it in, keeping an eye on my guard who has assumed a position next to the fake mirror facing the air in front of the mattress so that he doesn't have to stare at me all night. I immediately hear someone being chewed out by someone on a video call. At first, I think it's Charles but no, it's the boss, Colton.

After a few minutes of listening, I gather that Colton, Sorry Agent Colton, according to the voice, was not meant to be up by Minneapolis, instead, he was supposed to be picking up some VIP down in Brazil. Finally, the ranting dies down and after a long pause, Colton finally says "Yes Ma'am, I will do that. Goodnight." and shuts off the screen. I frown, the voice had sounded very masculine to me, but apparently not. Before I can think about it further, Colton starts speaking again,

"What's she doing now?"

"Just sitting there sir. She hasn't moved in 10 minutes" A woman answers. She seemed to be the obligatory tech guru around here. Colton sighs.

"Alright get some sleep. We'll see if she's more talkative in the morning." Definitely not likely.

I pull my legs up close to my chest, the stiffness growing, and listen to the hum of electricity. When you don't pay attention to it, it all blurs together, but if you focus on it, you can pick apart the different frequencies. The electricity moving through the walls has a different feeling than a security camera, the walls, more of a slight hum and the cameras almost feeling prickly. Computers and phones have more of a pulsating vibe, becoming stronger when they're actively working and weaker they're waiting for commands. I relax into the familiar workings of the plane, my sense of it becoming broader. I can feel the complexity of the engine, the solar panels on the roof. I entertain myself by letting my conscience be pulled along by a single wire, following it to its destination. I faintly hear the sound of voices, but my mind is too spread out to pay attention.

That is until a loud BANG snaps me awake and my eyes fly open to see Blondey coming in. My joints scream in pain as I unwrap my arms from my legs. How long have I been out? I'm hoisted to my feet and plopped down into one of the metal chairs. Long enough apparently. It takes me a second to get my bearings and realize that the voices that I'm hearing are coming from my earpiece. I look at the two men standing in front of me scowling, and I feel a slight pulse coming from each of them. They must be wearing earpieces too.

I should be terrified, but I'm becoming more and more sure that they don't want to kill me, which just makes me incredibly curious about what they do want. Blondey sits down in the chair in front of me.

"What's your name?" He asks firmly, but I ignore him, letting my gaze drift off to somewhere by his right ear and focus on what the people in command are saying.

"Do you think she's deaf?" Someone asks and is answered by a noncommittal grunt. Deaf? No, but why not? I stare blankly at Blondey's mouth as he continues.

"Where are you from?" he asks, and I frown, trying to convey confusion.

Over the course of the hour, I keep up this charade, but they never seem disheartened. They ask me why I stole the drive, why I was returning it, why I ran, with no response. I take the time to get a better look at the two men. Whoever assigned this guard to me was smart. Unlike Charles who was big and bulky, this guy was smaller and quick on his feet. He shifts from foot to foot, standing behind Blondey like he's ready to tackle me at any second. Blondey, on the other hand, looks like the cold steel chair we're both sitting on is the most comfortable lounge chair in the world. Even with the newly minted cut on his face given by yours truly, confidence radiates off of him, even as his questions bring no results. I'm sure that he's done this many times. So why isn't he pressing harder? My spider-sense is tingling.

The door opens and the asian woman from before walks in. Blondey leans back and looks at her annoyed.

"Agent" he states, his voice clipping the t at the end. She looks at him with an air of superiority and he stares back, scowling. Unspoken words fly between them, and my very low ability to read people keeps me from knowing what they are. They do, apparently, and after a second he sighs and shrugs back into his chair. She turns her attention towards me and gives me one of the fakest smiles I've ever seen.

"Hi, I'm Agent Chen." Hello. She gestures for me to get up and I do, glancing at Blondey apprehensively. He does not look happy, and I walk quickly over towards the agent. She holds up some shackles and I let her attach them to my wrists before following her out into the hallway.

She leads me farther down the hallway and I stare at her back. There seems to be a hierarchy here, but she doesn't wear any insignia that shows it. The only thing different between her and Blondey was the way they were dressed. She wears a blue blazer over dress pants and a white blouse while he wears a black turtleneck and cargo pants. I try to imagine a scenario in which an organization uses fashion as its ranking system. Is Meryl Streep in charge?

Chen presses her finger against a fingerprint scanner and a door opens with a beep and a hiss. She smiles at me again, equally as strained as last time, and gestures me inside a drab looking bathroom.

"I'll stay out here, knock when you're finished." She says and closes the door. I let out a breath, Jesus Christ I need to pee.

Washing my hands, I take a moment to scrub the dirt off my face and press a cold towel to my sore ribs. I wince as I run a finger over them, looking for breaks. They are badly bruised, but nothing seems to be broken. Suddenly people start talking again in the command room.

"This isn't working." A frustrated Colton states.

"Give me time, sir" Blondey assures him, "ask her anything too aggressive and she'll never talk."

"I've given you time, Agent. I've got The Silo breathing down my neck for picking you up and so far I got nothin to show for it" He snaps back "We need a new approach." There are a good few seconds of silence while they all think for a moment. I run some more cold water over the paper towel and press it back to my ribs. A new voice pipes up,

"Yeah Agent Rose?" Colton asks.

"She tried to hack into a drive, right" Rose asks, and I assume Colton nods as she continues: "So she's after information. What if we give her it? See what she looks up. Then we'd know what she's after."

"How would we give it to her without it seeming suspicious?" Blondey asks her, but it's Colton who replies- "We'd have to let her escape."

"Yeah, but we'd keep her contained" Rose insists "Only unlock certain doors, watch her on the cameras etcetera."

I check the hidden pockets. Along with my sunglasses, I managed to grab a few other trinkets before getting captured. I can tell that the agents are most likely to go with Rose's plan and my own counter-plan starts to unfold in my mind. They don't know I'm listening, they don't know that I'm not after information, I'm looking to escape. Along with a small lock pick kit, I also have my computer tracker and one of my own inventions, I call it a freeze ray, which I switch to my front pocket. It acts as a sort of like an emp, but instead of shutting down any nearby electronics, it forces the video camera to go back to still image mode and takes a photo. Then it sends the photo to the computer, and as long as they don't look too closely, they won't realize that the camera isn't live anymore. I'm caught up in listening to them work out the final details, and I knock on the door, forgetting that whatever I touch loses its sound. It takes me a second to remember and I sigh and look around for something to use as a barrier. I don't exactly know why it happens. My current theory is that I am always absorbing a bit of energy from whatever I touch and that includes the energy sound produces, the sound waves. I grab the lid of the soap dispenser, place it a millimeter away from the door and knock on that, which in turn hits the door, creating a crisp knock. I quickly put it back as Chen opens the door and leads me back to the room, now only containing the second guy who doesn't acknowledge my existence.

I walk over to the mattress and sit down in the exact position as before, except with one arm positioned right over my pocket. Chen leaves with my cuffs and I'm left with my guard all alone. My heartbeat is going through the roof as the downtime finally gives me time to realize what a crazy idea this is. I have no idea how to get out of here. We're in a freaking plane for christ's sake. All I know is that I need my stuff to survive once I do, so that's where I'll start.

The door opens and Blondey walks in, glances at me before going over towards the guard and murmurs softly into his ear. I watch them both closely. Without looking at me, Blondey raises his voice slightly, so I can just barely hear:

"She's left us no choice, we've got to do a data purge. It's going live in an hour." He whispers. I slowly take out the freeze ray, and point it through my legs, towards the lone camera, my finger ready to press the button. As soon as they leave.

"The boss doesn't think we'll get anything out of her, we've been reassigned to radar." This is all an obvious ploy to try and get me to escape. All he is missing from the "This is an Obvious Trap" booklet is a and no one will be around for the next 2 hours.

They both leave through the door and I watch their feet with anticipation. As soon as the guard's heel leaves the room, I freeze in an unassuming position, my head down and my eyes closed and press the button. I hear the sound of the camera whirring and a shutter click. I launch myself out of the bed and manage to grab the door before it's fully closed. I inch my way through it and make a beeline for the janitor's closet next door. As I had hoped, the last guy to use it was too distracted to lock it and I swiftly shut the door and back up into the shelves trying to calm my breathing. I look around, my eyes adjusting to the light coming from underneath the door. I don't hear anything different from the command room. I turn on the tracker for my computer. A pixelated red arrow comes on the small screen and after a second it points towards the other end of the hall. Two dashed lines on the bottom right corner says it's below me by about 20 feet. To the left and down. I can work with that. I use the arrow to act as a light. The closet is tiny, with barely enough room to move. I see lots of supplies covered in cobwebs, obviously, this closet isn't used much. I grab a small cube wall putty that's about the size of my palm. After a bit of searching, I find a crusty blue jacket that was obviously abandoned because of the rancid smell of sulfur emanating from it and put it on. Lacking any better weapons, I take some small spray bottles and fill them with bleach and ammonia and grab a broom.

Steeling myself, I listen as the door for any sound, before flinging it open and casually sauntering out. I head for the door the arrow was pointing towards, away from the door I came in. Through the door, there's another plain grey hallway with the exact same setup. Knowing I'm in front of cameras, I don't check the tracker, instead heading down this hallway and out the doors at the end. My first goal is to find a staircase. I remember going down one when I first got here, so hopefully, there's more.

Back in the fancy hallways with fewer cameras, I start searching. I press my ear against each door before opening them, not bothering with the locked ones. I find empty conference rooms, and empty labs with expensive equipment covered in plastic, anchored to the walls. I also find a hat with the periodic table embroidered on it, which I put on, covering my rat nest and my cut. The silence is really starting to get my paranoia running, it feels like the whole plane is holding its breath in anticipation. My breathing sounds deafening and a bit of sweat drips down my neck. I'm so wound up with anxiety that when a door shutting shatters the silence, I spaz out, my heartbeat going crazy. I hear two voices coming down the corner, and I look around, panicking before rushing through the nearest door.

Right into a meeting with at least 12 people in black and blue suits sitting around a large table. I stare at them like a deer in the headlights, though they don't notice me for a good second. Trying to relax my facial features, I swallow hard. Remembering the fact that I'm posing as a janitor, I walk as casually as I can muster to a nearby trash can knowing full well they are all staring at me. One of them mutters something about me interrupting their meeting, but besides that, they all patiently wait while I tie the top of the trash bag full of coffee cups into a knot and leave with it, doffing my hat to the man at the head of the table as I do.

My disguise now successfully tested, I speed up and finally find a rickety looking staircase in what appears to be a broom closet. As I go down it as quickly as possible, I pull out my tracker, watching the dashed lines disappear until I'm finally on the same floor. I step off onto grated metal in a large room that seems to span the entire plane and feel like I've entered a whole new world. Broken down machinery cluster in small groups, small rooms liter the sides with big windows that cast light onto the dimly lit main space. Cars and SUVs are up on hydraulic jacks, which does not seem logical to do on a plane. Where there aren't small rooms filled with factory looking equipment, jump seats are attached to the metal walls in droves. I follow the arrow to one of the small rooms in the back, weaving around enormous toolboxes and people laying on creepers underneath different vehicles. Every once in awhile sparks fly off from somewhere and a mechanical arm comes down from the ceiling and extinguishes them before they cause damage.

Inside I find my backpack and its contents scattered around the makeshift room. I put down my broom and bag of trash, everyone down here is too distracted anyways, and start collecting everything up and take stock. My one extra pair of clothes, a flashlight, a water bottle, and some protein bars are all stacked neatly to one side, while all of my inventions are sprawled across a table. They had obviously tried to test a few of them, but as I don't label anything and all of them have a bio lock for scenarios just like this, they couldn't figure them out. I have a brief moment of panic when I can't find my collapsible bow, but find the oval-shaped bracelet underneath the table. And yes, I use a bow and arrow instead of a gun. Mainly it's what I grew up using, but also because it's silent and the ammo is reusable. I double-check that my custom made arrows are still in the secret pouch in my backpack, unplug my computer from a hard drive trying to collect its data, and pack everything up, taking with me a swiss army knife that happened to be lying around. I don't see any of my knives, but I feel that time is running out too fast to try and find them. Somebody's got to check on my room soon, I can hear the people in command becoming impatient. I look outside one of the grimy windows and see that we're currently flying over some type of rainforest. Remembering the fact that we're on our way to Brazil, I try to remember the geography of South America. There's got to be a way off the plane somehow.

Exiting the room, I see Chen walking through the clutter towards where I was, and my heart leaps into my throat. I clasp the bracelet to my wrist as quickly head farther back, happy to have the familiar weight on my arm. The dirty mechanic's shop turns into a well-used weight room complete with a vending machine full of Powerade. I hurry through the boxing ring in the center and under another archway into an armory. AK's and other guns line the walls and worn bulletproof vests hang neatly on coat racks. While everything else down here seemed to be covered with dust, the room, while well used, is very clean. I avoid the metal benches in the middle and pad over to a door with a fingerprint scanner.

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

Under the bright red letters, there's a drawing of a little stick person falling. Bingo. I backtrack and find a parachute in one of the cabinets and head back over. I pull out the wall putty I grabbed from the closet, open the box, and warm it up with my hands. I grab some dusting powder and coat the scanner with it, using a piece of tape to grab the fingerprint now clearly shown on the surface. I mold the putty into a cylinderish shape and stick the tape to it. With my makeshift finger, I press it to the scanner and after a second, I hear a lock click and push the door open. Works every time.

I walk through into a dark tiny staircase leading down. Red lights lining the walls are the only source of light, and I quickly run down them towards another door with light streaming through all crevasses. I fling the door open and am blinded by the light. The room is entirely made of glass. I look around, squinting. This plane is huge. I'm in a tiny room smack dab at the center of it, and the body of the plane stretches out in all directions. I stare at the ground so far away and clutch my chute. I'm not afraid of heights, but even I've got to admit that this is crazy. I slid off my backpack, and put it back on my front, and hook the chute into place. I look at the red eject button to my right and shake my arms out, hopping from foot to foot trying to hype myself up. You got this, this isn't crazy, you're crazy, this is fine. You're about to plummet to your death- I mean you're about to safely land inside a dangerous jungle in the middle of nowhere, ok this isn't helping, just do it, just do it, justdoit, justdo- I press the plunger and the floor drops out from under me OH SHIT I twist and turn through the air, my eyes streaming so much I can't see anything but blurs. My legs knock into one another, and I try to get into the same position as the people I see do this on TV but nothing seems to work. I cover my face with my hands and peek through my fingers in a desperate attempt to see where I'm going and find the ground fast approaching. I grab the handle and deploy the chute and audibly cry of pain as I'm jerked back as the chute slows my descent. I pull on my harness, trying to relieve some of the pressure on my ribs and look around and try to find a clearing from my limited viewpoint with no luck, so I navigate towards a large river instead.

My parachute gets hooked on a large tree branch and I grab onto a knob and unclip myself. I climb up to where the chute is tangled, figuring that the dense fabric would make for decent shelter if I can get it untangled. I squint upwards, towards the plane. It looks so tiny from here. I let myself rest on the branch, and close my eyes, letting the adrenaline fade. I hear a chorus of noises, birds singing, leaves shaking, monkeys crying out, but for the first time in what seems like forever, I don't hear the buzz of electricity in the back of my head, and I sigh in relief. I did it. I grin, something I never do, and let myself be ecstatic for just one moment. Then I steal myself, letting my smile fade, and get back to work.