Mithias had vanished somewhere off into the runway fields. He had left his beautiful Harley behind him. Mikey could have it for all he cared. Giant blaring box-shaped floodlights angled skyward along the runways, obscuring the ground beneath them in relative blackness. He growled softly to himself. This was unbelievable. Was it truly fate that had delivered this god-forsaken sword into HIS hands? Couldn't Frank and Mikey have gone ANY other direction?? ... He sighed heavily and looked away from the airport to his phone. The information was there. He blinked. "Are you serious?!" Mithias had been looking for a nothing, a negative, a cancellation, but instead he got a spine-chilling confirmation. 

Gritting his teeth, and moving quickly, he circled around on foot to the D terminals. Good, bloody God, there was a red, white, and blue Britannia jet sitting on the tarmac, lights blinking, engine running. Mithias stopped, scanning around him. Was that... flames? Great. The building was on fire. No doubt some SOLDIER genius had tried to blow up Void while *inside* the airport. Mithias hesitated, staring at the plane. Some suited attendant stood waiting cordially. He had 15 minutes, well, less now, but he needed this time to think. 

Heart beating more rapidly than he would have liked, Mithias mentally scrambled. He could skip this plane, and probably another would be prepared for him another day, or maybe not. But if he stayed in this country, he'd be hunted by his own law-enforcement organization. It was very much a less than ideal situation for one so recently committed to staying alive. On the other hand, he could take the plane. Taking off shouldn't be a problem, and it would get him far from this place as fast as possible. Even if someone found out that he was on this jet, he'd be long gone. There would be no sense in shooting down his plane, because no one would know that he had the swo...  Goddamnit! Mithias wanted to shout at the clouds above. He should have killed Mikey. 

SOLDIER knew he had the sword, or at least they would as soon as Mikey gave his report. There was no time to lose. Every single second mattered if he wanted to escape.

Mithias ran as a blur toward the jet, phasing to a brisk walk seven steps apart from the boarding steward. 

The man jumped, startled, but quickly regained his composure as a white clawed hand extended to him a black cellphone. Mithias only had to wait fractions of a second before the man instinctively took it. The was little doubt he was the "friendly." Pressed, Mithias barked at the baggage handler, "Open the hold." He didn't explain as he wrapped Contagion in his leather jacket and placed it in the luggage compartment of the aircraft himself. "And don't breathe." He stepped out and closed the hold, allowing the attendant to lock it behind him. The sword wouldn't eat through metal, and the air in the cabin should be contained and separate form the air in the hold. The humans shouldn't be harmed during the trip. 

Mithias approached the steward and clasped his hands behind his back, waiting for permission. A bullet hole ruined the fabric of his fine suit.