Chapter 6 - The Confrontation on the Tarmac
The private executive terminal at Metro Airport was quiet at 2:00 AM, but inside Hangar 4, a sleek Gulfstream jet was idling, its engines whining as it prepared for departure.
Jason Vance paced the tarmac, furiously yelling into his phone. "What do you mean the hangar doors won't open? I pay millions to this airport! Override it!"
"Sir, the system is showing a structural safety lock from the engineering contractor," the terminal manager explained, looking sweating and stressed. "We are trying to contact them, but their emergency line is busy."
"I am the contractor," a voice boomed through the hangar.
Jason spun around to see Daniel walking slowly into the hangar, his boots echoing against the concrete floor.
"You!" Jason snarled, his eyes darting around for security. "You blocked my flight! This is federal tampering, Daniel! I'll have you ruined!"
"The gates are locked, Jason. And they're going to stay locked until the police arrive," Daniel said, crossing his arms.
"You think you're so smart," Jason said, his panic finally breaking through his arrogant facade. He pulled a heavy silver pen from his pocket—except it wasn't a pen. With a click, a thin, sharp switchblade snapped out. "Get out of my way, Daniel. I'm getting on that plane, and if I have to carve you up to do it, I will."
"Still a coward, relying on weapons," Daniel said, not taking a single step back. He watched Jason's sloppy stance. Jason had never worked a day of hard labor in his life, let alone fought for survival.
Jason lunged forward, wild and undisciplined, aiming the blade at Daniel's chest.
Daniel sidestepped the clumsy attack with ease, grabbing Jason's wrist and twisting it with brutal, calculated force. A loud CRACK echoed through the hangar as Jason's wrist dislocated. The knife clattered to the ground.
Jason screamed, dropping to his knees, clutching his broken wrist. "You broke my arm! You're dead, Daniel! My dad will kill you!"
"Your dad can't save you tonight," Daniel whispered, looking down at him with utter disgust.
At that moment, the screech of tires echoed outside the hangar. Red and blue lights flashed against the metal walls as three police cruisers, led by Detective Ruiz, skidded to a halt on the tarmac.
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Detective Ruiz stepped out, his gun drawn. "Jason Vance, you are under arrest for felony assault, domestic violence, and reckless endangerment. Put your hands on your head."
Jason looked up, tears of pain and shock streaming down his face as the officers slammed him onto the cold concrete and clicked the handcuffs around his wrists.
