Orlando International Airport
July 6, 2016
Orlando, Florida
“So this is what they call ‘Hell on Earth’..” Marcus Vintorez thought as he stepped out of the terminal and into the waiting area, holding his black duffel bag filled with all of the basic necessities for his week-long stay.
“Don’t know why I even agreed to this..” He spoke to himself. “Going to Baja California would’ve been so much simpler. And a helluva lot cooler. ”
As Marcus walked out of the airport and onto the pick-up/drop-off area, he looked around for the guy who was supposedly going to pick him up on time. Putting down his duffel bag and sitting on it, he pulled out his phone with an irritated sigh and started texting.
As Marcus walked out of the airport and onto the pick-up/drop-off area, he looked around for the guy who was supposedly going to pick him up on time. Putting down his duffel bag and sitting on it, he pulled out his phone with an irritated sigh and started texting.
“Hey, faggot. Where in the fuck are u?”
-Meanwhile on the Highway-
An old black Ford Ranger driven by Branden Bort was now making its way to the pickup area near the pick-up/drop-off area. As it did, the driver’s phone vibrated. Quickly he responded, “I’m about to be outside baggage claim lardfucker”
“You said your ass was going to be there on time, sugartits..” Marcus replied.
“Yea I did, but traffic said otherwise assface.”
“Whatever. I’ll be here. God knows how long, though..”
“Chill man, you’re about to have a rack attack. I’ll be there in 5.” He said as he started driving up the ramp to the outside of the pick-up/drop-off area .
“ ‘Rack attack’?.. I’m not even gonna bother. Must be some slang for you California wannabe’s..”
“At least we ain’t got a state tax, I’m outside so get yer shit and get out here!”
-Inside The Airport-
“Already? Shit. On the highway, my ass. He was just up the road!” Marcus thought as stood up and saw the black Ford Ranger drive up to him. Putting away his phone, he jogged towards it.
“It’s about time!” Marcus shouted as he threw his duffel bag into the vehicle. “Was starting to think I’d have to hijack a taxi or something.”
“Hijack? More like open the door and get shot. Those guys live in the taxi and they’ll die in the taxi. Get in, I’m about to show you around.”
“Heh. Thought that only applied to taxi drivers in New York.” Marcus said as he lowered the side window to let the breeze in. “Jesus. I’ve been to some hot areas, but this is something else. Hotter than a whore house in Vietnam here..”
“They don’t call this the ‘Sunshine State’ for nothing, ninety-six degrees with a thousand percent humidity.” Branden shifted into a higher gear so they could merge onto the freeway and begin the treck, speeding down the road.
“So, what kind of plans do you have? Y’know, since we’re not in Baja California off-roading.” Marcus said as he pulled out his phone and checked on the battery. 20%? Fuck..”
“In fact I do. You ever been to the Cari-” Branden was suddenly cut off as he slammed on the brakes and stuck his hand out the window flipping the bird the car in front of them. “WHAT THE FUCK MAN, DRIVE LIKE A FUCKIN' HUMAN BEING! Anyways, like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted.. Have you ever been to the Caribbean Islands before?
Marcus chuckled. “Road rage, man. Don’t let it get into your feeble mind. And no, I haven’t been to the Caribbean Islands. Unless you count Assassin’s Creed Black Flag..”
He then reached over and put his phone on one of the cup holders. Pressing the screen, 'Nine is God' by Wavves started playing though the car.
“Hey man, why does this song sound so familiar? It’s almost like I heard it hundreds of times but I don’t recognize it.”
“Remember when we used to play a shit-ton of Grand Theft Auto?” He asked. “Well, this song was in the game. Vinewood Boulevard Radio. Anyways, what were you saying about the Caribbean?”
“Well the reason i ask is because I have a scuba trip planned for us, check out the reefs and shit. So I hope you’re certified.” Branden said as he pulled off of the freeway and started heading down a road that lead to highway 50.
“Oh shit, really? Dude, that’s sick! And yeah, I’m certified.. Somewhat.” Marcus said, whispering the last part as he looked out the window and saw a blue Volkswagen. He then turned and punched Branden in the shoulder hard.
“I see how it is. You see that white van over there?” Branden asks as he rubs his bicep.
.”Uh.. Yeah, Why?” He asked.
Branden then slams his fist into Marcus’ shoulder, “CREEPY WHITE MOLESTER VAN MUTHAFUCKA! Favorite game of the locals, well whoever listens to WJrr plays it.”
“Holy fuck, dude!” Marcus shouted, grasping his shoulder. “What the fuck?! Who in the hell even says that shit? You’re more weird than I thought..” He said, shaking his head.
“I’m getting you back for this one, and if not me, my karma sure as hell will..” Marcus said, having a somewhat devilish grin.
Branden suddenly had a worried look on his face, he glanced at Marcus and asked, “What, are we gonna crash like what happens all the time in GTA?”
“Don’t know, but if we do, then at least let me jump out.” He chuckled before he turned off his phone and put it on the front of the car.
“Well I hope not, otherwise we’ll be walking for a while, Last thing I need is the truck being destroyed because of karma, that’s gonna be a huge bill after the scuba trip.”
“Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a knot. But how’re we gonna get to the Caribbean? Surely we’re not going there with this piece of scrap..” Marcus said, looking at the torn seats.
“Hey man, talk shit about my truck again and you’ll be swimming to the Caribbean. But we’re going on a sea plane, I already rented a pilot and a plane, here’s a pic of the plane.” Branden then hands Marcus a photo printed off of the internet with the pilot and his plane. “Think that will get us there?”
Marcus then looked at the photo. “Fucking craigslist..”Is.. Is that a url for the black market?!” He thought before deciding to ask later and nodded, looking closer at the plane. “A DHC-2 Beaver? This’ll definitely get us over there. We can just land near the reefs and prep from there if we could.”
“Yea, I’m renting both plane and pilot for the entire week so we can just hop around the islands and reefs as need be. And don’t ask about any strange cargo boxes in the back, Philepae will get mad.”
“Philepae is the pilot’s name? Okay then.. I’m guessing the boxes are gonna be filled with ‘flour’ and ‘pinatas’ shaped as AK-47’s..” Marcus grumbled as they approached a nearby gate that led to the airstrip.
“He’s never done pinatas before, but he says that they’re airsoft guns, completely safe.” Branden said as he gave his I.D to the guard at the post, who nodded and gave it back. He then drove and pulled up next to the plane.
The two guys then got out of the vehicle and started heading for the plane until Marcus stopped.
“Wait, what about our fucking gear?..”
“Don’t worry about the gear, it’s already on board.” Branden said.
“Alright, coo-”
“Eyy! Vatos!” Said a somewhat obese man with a barley shaved beard and sunglasses, holding a cigar in his hand and having a somewhat heavy accent. “You gonna get in the plane, or what? Vamonos, putos! Apurense!”
Marcus nodded before he slowly turned to Branden, giving him a look that clearly read: ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’
“Come on Philepae, what did I say, you don’t have to call me friend every time we see each other..”
“How many times do I have to tell you, gringo? I’m not your fucking friend. I’m just here so I can make a quick buck and deliver a couple of stuff to my buddies.” Philepae said.
“Oh yeah? What kind of stuff?” Marcus asked with a hint of suspicion.
“None of your fucking business, puto menso” Philepae spat out, throwing his cigar onto the ground. “Now stop asking stupid questions and get in. Your gear is inside here too.”
Marcus just shrugged as he followed Branden and Philepae into the plane. As they climbed in and the propellers started up, Marcus took the time to look in the very back, noticing some brown wooden boxes.
“My God..” Marcus said quietly to himself as he sat down besides Branden as Philepae fully started the plane, the engine roaring as it started heading towards the runway.
“I think it’s airsoft guns again. What do you think Marcus?” Branden asked as he look back at the boxes then at Marcus.
“I call bullshit.Why the hell would someone bring airsoft guns to the Caribbean anyways? Hell, he could be going to Cuba for all I know..” Marcus said as he looked out the window, the plane stopping as Philepae spoke into the radio.
“Control tower, this is Captain Philepae here, requesting clearance to go on the runway.” He spoke, grunting as he moved in his seat a bit.
After a couple of seconds, control tower responded. “I got you, amigo. The runway’s all yours.”
“Damn right..” Philepae muttered as the plane resumed moving, now positioning itself on the runway. “I’m in position now. Can I take off?”
Control tower radioed back after a couple more seconds. “Yeah. Skies are mostly clear aside from a couple of stray clouds. You’re free to go.”
“Okay then, I’m going off now.” Philepae then started to accelerate, the plane gaining speed as it went down the runway, with both passengers staring out the window.
“Okay, muchachas! Here we go!” Philepae said as the plane was now gaining altitude, separating itself from the runway and into the sky. The engine roared louder than ever as it’s fight against gravity continued in its attempt to reach cruising altitude.
“Okay, we took off with no problems! I’ll be back a bit after midnight.” Philepae said.
“I got you, and remember what you have to do!” The tower responded back.
“I know, I know!”
As the plane started flying above the city, Marcus turned from the window and spoke up. “Hey! How long will it take us to reach our location?”
“About an hour or so! Calm your tits, we’ll make it there on time for your beauty sleep!” He retorted with a deep chuckle.
“You’re one to talk, fatass..” Marcus thought, rolling his eyes and ignoring Brandon’s shit-eating grin.
“So, what’re we gonna do then? This isn’t exactly a passenger plane where they put up shitty 80’s movies.” Marcus asked Branden.
“What were you expecting, a lady to be walking up and down the plane offering free peanuts and drinks?” Branden then puts on his best female flight attendant voice. “Here a complimentary neck pillow, sir.” He then slugged Marcus in the arm.
“Fuck!” Marcus yelped and cringed his face in pain, grasping his shoulder. “It’s still sore, you asswipe..” He then turned with a slight pout, failing to notice the cigar hit Branden near the eye.
Branden covered the spot touched by the lit cigar and yelled, “GAW FUCK, MY EYE! What the hell Philepae!?”
“Sorry, amigo! Didn’t mean to do that!” Philepae said with an almost apologetic tone. He then grinned. “At least it broke the little cat fight you two ladies were having!”
Marcus looked back and saw Branden groaning in pain and covering his eye. He then took this as an opportunity to punch him back, making him groan even louder. “Remember what I said about my karma?”
“Fuck you guys.” Branden moaned out. both Marcus and Philepae simultaneously said “Sorry, I don’t roll that way.” looked at each other and laughed.
“Ey, amigo, de donde eres?” (Hey, man, where you from?) Philepae asked.
“De California. Pero mis padres son de Tijuana.” (From California, but my parents are from Tijuana.)
Philepae nodded with a smile as he turned his attention back to the plane and its controls. Marcus then turned to Branden, who was still holding his eye in pain.
Marcus then reached down on his bag, moved his hand around for a bit until he pulled out a cold, half-empty bottle of water and handed it over to Branden, who looked over in confusion.
“Just put it over your eye dude. You’ll be fine in no time.” Marcus offered with a small smile. “If you want, I got something to tie it to your eye with if you plan on falling asleep or something. Might make you look more retarded than what you already are, but better than having eye damage.”
“I’m fine I’m fine, just caught me by surprise is all. Speaking of naps though, I’ve been awake since four in the morning prepping for your ass to show up. So if I doze off, let me be.” Branden then re-adjusted himself trying to get more comfortable in the seat then closed his eyes.
“Suit yourself, then.” Marcus said, shrugging and putting the bottle back in the bag. “If you’re gonna sleep, then I might as well.”
He then rested his head on his shoulder, going limp on the seat and started to prep himself for a nap. As they did, Philepae spoke up.
“I’ll wake you guys up when we’re twenty minutes away from the Caribbean!”
“We got you.” Marcus responded as he started dozing off.
Several minutes and poorly drawn facial art by Philepae later...
After around half an hour of bliss, Branden woke up to the sound of Marcus snickering. “What are you laughing at fuckboy?”
“O-oh… Nothing, don’t worry about it. Just some memory of when me and my friends went to this one boardwalk in a town called Santa Cruz.” Marcus said, but for some reason not taking his eyes off his cheek, which made his snickering turn into fits of barely controllable laughter.
After fully waking up, Branden looked at Marcus. As soon as he did, he fell to the floor holding his stomach as it hurt from laughter. “Yo-you look like Adolf Hitler and Miley Cyrus met and got mean!” Branden immediately broke back into a laughing fit. “AND YOU’RE THEIR LOVE-CHILD!”
“You could say the same thing to yourself, you stupid queer!” Marcus said, giggling and turning to Philepae, who was quietly whistling to himself and threw what looked to be either another cigar, or a black marker out the window.
“My God.. Okay, so how long until we got to where we’re going?” Marcus asked Philepae.
“About half an hour or so, you ugly piles of horse shit!” Philepae responded. “So If I was you guys, which I am very grateful that I’m not, I’d go and check your gear in case there’s something wrong with it.
“Okay then.” Marcus then stood up from his seat and walked to the gear set. “You’re coming with me, bitch. Get up.”
“Yea yea Adolf Cyrus, I’m getting up.” Branden stood up and noticed his reflection in one of the windows. “What. The. Fuck, and I thought you looked bad, I look like a bunch of sharpie dicks waged war on my face! Fucking Vladimir Putin-deez nutz on your face won the war.”
Marcus just looked at Branden as if he took a pound of heroin and kept walking while shaking his head in sheer disappointment. As he reached the back, he looked back at the wooden crates.
“Hey, get the bags with the scuba gear..” Marcus said to Branden “I’m gonna take a peek at whatever’s in these..”
“What ever, at least dickocide wasn’t committed on your face.” What ever happiness was in Branden had left after he had seen his reflection. “Tank, check. Tubes, check and clear. Mask, check. WASP Injection knife?.....fu-oh wait, here it is. Wetsuit and fins, eeyup.”
“Okay. Then everything there’s good to go.” Marcus said nonchalantly as he lifted the loosely nailed wooden boxes. With wide eyes, he silently whispered ‘Holy shit..’
Marcus then turned to Branden. “Dude.. Those boxes have AK’s in them..” He whispered in slight shock.”I think I even saw one with a grenade launcher or some shit..”
“Naw man, let me show you,” Branden stood up and pulled out the magazine and noticed the bullets inside. “See they’re just... fake.. Oh shit.”
“Do those look like airsoft to you, jackass?!” Marcus whispered harshly. “Put the mag back in an let’s go before that crazy pilot finds out!”
Branden nodded quickly as he put the magazine back in the box quickly but quietly before he and Marcus picked up their gear and went back to their seats.
As they sat, Philepae turned to them and spoke. “Hey! What took you so long?”
“We were fixing the tube in our mas-”
“Don’t give a fuck.” Philepae cut Marcus off as he turned back to the plane, but had a look of surprise and confusion on his face.
“What the.. que carajo?..”
“What’s wrong?” Marcus and Branden said simultaneously.
“The stupid fucker told me that the skies would be fucking clear! What the hell?” Philepae said with anger and confusion.
Marcus then looked at the window, noticing the huge wall cloud in front of them. “Oh shit..”
Branden quickly looked left to right then back “I got a bad feeling about this...”
“Where.. How close are we to the nearest island around here?” Marcus asked Philepae.
“I don’t even know.. The compasses and GPS aren’t fucking working for some reason!” Philepae responded, slamming his fist in anger. “Hijo de su puta madre, piece of shit!”
“Can we fly back? At all?”
“We won’t have enough fuel to make it back. This was supposed to be a one way trip!” Philepae then looked below him “Que chingada? The clouds are below us now!”
“Uh guys, is it just me or are the clouds forming a vortex around us as we fly?” Branden said with a look of worry quickly forming on his face. “Philepae, are you sure there is nothing that can be done, these clouds are really starting to freak me out the more we fly through them.”
“I could land in the ocean, if I could fucking see it!” Philepae shouted back, checking on the electronics.
“A vortex? I call bull, dude. Even I know it isn’t hurricane season!” Marcus said, looking out the window once more and noticing that the clouds were now completely around them now. “Oh my God.. What the-”
“Holy shit!” Philepae shouted louder than before, making both Branden and Marcus cover their ears. “We’re flying at an altitude of 23,000 feet!”
“What?!” Both passengers shouted simultaneously.
“I don’t know, okay!? We should not be this high! This plane isn’t built for flying at this altitude!” Philepae shouted, now starting to quickly panick.
“If anything, we should be cras-”
Philepae was quickly cut off as a streak of lightning hit near the left side of the plane, making all of them yelp in fright.
“Shit man that was lightning! If we’re going to do something, we need to do it now!” Soon after the words left Branden’s mouth another bolt of lightning struck the engine causing the fuel inside to quickly ignite, frying the engine.
“Shit! Oh Shit!” Philepae shouted at the top of his lungs as the plane’s engine failed and the electronics started going haywire, the compasses spinning madly until everything gave and came at a sudden stop.
“WE’RE GOING DOWN!!”
As the plane started to nose dive, all of the passengers aboard the falling metal cage of death were screaming at the very top of their lungs as their lives flashed before their eyes, including Branden and Marcus’ worthwhile, but extremely short lives.
After a few seconds of falling the plane broke through the clouds and the quickly rising ocean was seen below. Branden turned to Marcus. “Damn man, this must be karma biting us in the ass for taking over Los Santos so many times!”
“Then it was so not worth it!” Marcus shouted, terrified as the plane came closer and closer to impacting with the ocean below.
“We’re gonna hit!! Hold o-”
The plane then impacted the water head on, sending both of the two passengers flying and hitting the back with extreme force, giving them both concussions while Philepae launched forward, the bones in his neck snapped like twigs, internally decapitating and killing him instantly.
With his brain pulsating painfully and his vision going from clear to blurry, Marcus turned to Branden, who was holding onto the back of a seat as the plane leveled out and started flowing with water.
“Branden.. Branden! You good?!” Marcus shouted as he staggered and went for the scuba gear, trying his best to ignore the pain and his obscured vision.
As Branden slowly got up holding his head “I think so man.” looking onto the ground and then out the window, he began to finally realise what was happening. “Shit, we need to get our gear on quick.” As he stumbled to his pack of gear Marcus was already sliding into his wet suit.
Marcus tried to put on his wet suit as fast as he could, but he was now focusing on trying not to stumble as the plane slowly sank down head first, water quickly filling the plane.
“Fuck.. Fuck!” Marcus grunted as he put on his fins and goggles.
“Marcus, catch!” Branden tossed Marcus one of the harnesses with the air tank and WASP knife already attached, then proceeded to put on his own. After they finally had all of their gear on the plane was almost full with water. If they wanted to survive, they needed to find the door.
In a panic, Marcus swiftly looked around for an exit. As the plane filled with more and more water, he finally noticed the door leading out of the sinking plane, only that is was submerged in water.
“I found the exit!” Marcus shouted through his mask. He then ran into the water and quickly came in front of the door.
With fear-driven adrenaline, he slammed the door with his shoulder, busting it wide open as the door hung on its side before breaking off and slowly sinking to the ocean depths below.
Marcus then turned and motioned Branden to follow. They both then quickly swam out of the plane and started swimming away from the main plane, before going to a safe enough distance and starting going up to the surface at a somewhat fast pace, making sure not to ascend quickly and catch a case of ‘the bends’.
After breaking through the surface Branden quickly started looking around for somewhere to swim to. Noticing trees and sand in the distance. He turned to Marcus who was looking in the opposite and pointed in its direction. When Marcus turned around and looked towards the shore, they both nodded, went back under, and started to swim.
As they kept swimming, Marcus decided to take a look back at the wreckage. He could barely make out the wreckage of the plane slowly sinking to the ocean depths. He then saw that Philepae was still inside the plane. He didn’t know whether he was alive or dead, but it wouldn’t matter either way.
He then caught up to Branden, while trying to swim with his concussion. His vision was still going blurry every so often, but he managed to keep a steady pace at the best of his ability.
After a couple more minutes of swimming, Branden decided to ascend. Breaking the surface, he was slightly surprised that they were actually a lot closer than they thought, and that they were about to hit very shallow waters.
He then went back down and continued swimming along with Marcus, who was having trouble maintaining speed, so he helped by slowing down and giving him a push now and then.
As they started getting closer and closer to shore, Branden noticed what looked like a seahorse but it was larger and its head was shaped different; he didn’t know if it was the concussion or what but it looked like it had a regular horses head. Freaked out a little, Branden decided to ignore it and keep swimming towards land.
As they finally got into water that was shallow enough to stand in, they got up and removed their masks and cut the flow of oxygen from their tanks. Noticing how low the pressure gage on his tank was, Branden was happy they got to shore when they did.
As the two dragged themselves onto shore, Marcus let out a huge torrent of vomit onto the sand, getting on one knee and clutching his stomach with one arm, feeling more queasy than ever, his head pulsating with pain worse than before.
After Branden fell to his knees he looked over at Marcus’ kneeling form and sarcastically said “Don’t you look healthy.”
Marcus then looked up at him. “You don’t look any better, but I think a fist to your skull might improve you a bit. So unless you want brain damage, let’s just k-keep movi-”
He then let out another spurt of vomit.
“Hey, they only reason I’m not in your position is because I had a concussion or two. So which way you wanna go?” Branden asked, wishing that the throbbing and blurry vision would stop coming and going.
“Ugh.. Let’s j-just keep following the sand.. Maybe we’ll find someone just c-chilling, or, if we’re lucky.. a cabin.” Marcus responded, getting up on a shaky leg and holding his head with one hand.
A couple of hours went by as the duo made their way down the beach. Noting the position of the sun, Branden guessed it was about 3 in the afternoon. Afterwards he started looking back to the land further inshore hoping to see any sign of life.
As they kept walking down the sand shore, they started getting exhausted, tripping over as their eyesight got worse and worse, their legs to the brink of giving out.
They then both stopped to gain even the slightest amount of energy, breathing hoarsely and heavily while wiping their eyes in order to at least regain their vision for even a second or so.
Marcus then slowly turned forward and bent forward, feeling another wave of vomit about to hit him. When it didn’t come, he slowly brought his head up and noticed something.
At the distance, through his blurry eyesight, he noticed a combination of several bright colors. Ranging from pink, to orange, to even a mixture of colors on one figure.
Smiling slightly, he turned to Branden, who was now staring off into the brush as if he had a case of the thousand-yard stare. “Branden.. B-Branden..”
Marcus shook him slightly, only for Branden to suddenly collapse onto the sand. As Marcus noticed this, he quickly went on his knees and shook him very weakly.
“Branden!” He said hoarsely. “Y-you.. Wake the f-fu..”
Marcus then felt a sudden wave of nausea as he turned away from Branden and let out a very short spurt of vomit, which had now drained whatever energy he had left in him as he passed out, landing on Branden’s arm as all the color faded into black.
