[h1]Mahmoud Nobakht[/h1]

The darkened sky served as a nice backdrop for the events transpiring in the London Oxford Airport. 

"What...what do you want from me..?" The air traffic controller stammered out, backed against the wall, eyes filled with tears and fear of the man before him. The control room was littered with ash, bone, half burned vicera, and some guards who had been shot up by Mahmoud's men. 

"I want all flights going out of this airport cancelled, immediately." Mahmoud said, his hands outstretched and engulfed in white hot fires pointed towards the shaking man, the last survivor in what was once a loud and vibrant room with commands being shouted around. 

"I...I..I can't-"

A quick punch connected to the traffic controller's stomach as he fell to the ground moaning in pain. 

"I will tell you one more time, end the flights. If you do not comply, I will kill you. And because you made me wait for this long, I'll be sure the way you die leaves you wishing in your final minutes you had been burned."

The man stayed on the ground, unwilling to comply. "No...I'm not going to give into the demands of scum like you."

Mahmoud did not look angry, rather he simply shrugged in agreement. "That is quite the honorable responce from a man like yourself. But it was just a formality, we don't actually need you. Dmitri here can just enter the system for me." Mahmoud responded as he pulled the man to his knees. "But I respect your honor, sir. After all, a man's honor is most important." Mahmoud extended his hand out as one of his men handed him a leather belt and a wooden rod. "More important than his life." Mahmoud stopped there, as he placed the belt around the controller's head and began to tighten it with the rod. "Dmitri, cancel all flights out of here, we will stall those brats as long as we can". So long as they were in England or Europe. It was no problem at all.