"Come with me," he exclaimed, dashing through the lobby. We quickly tried to chase after him, but little did I know that he was incredibly fast, like a cheetah, when it came to running. The lobby had a distinct industrial feel, with its metal walls and dark tiled floor. The markings on the tiles added an interesting touch to the corridor.

Clearly not the most favorable feeling by any means.

Unexpectedly, we found ourselves in a lift community, complete with two lifts and a single button.

"So, do you know where the Armonk is?" I asked. "Did the tactical provide you with the location as well?"

"No, but I'm the only one who knows in the FMA," he said. "Additionally, it is clear that the TSA is aware as well."

We stepped into an elevator that revealed itself to us.

Now you know how you usually pick the floor you want to go to?

It was different this time — something stood out in a significant way. Greg pressed the buttons for various floors, going up and down the elevator.

Regardless, we continued to descend without pause.

Actually, it was quite alarming because I was convinced that we should be going up to the 50th floor, but instead it seemed like we were descending fifty stories.

"Why isn't it increasing?" Nikki asked.

"Since this code is used to access the location where the Armonk is stored," Greg said. "We really want to arrive rapidly before the TSA even arrives at there."

The elevator opened, and we were met with a sight that was probably not as anticipated. We witnessed the door swing open, revealing a glimmering light emanating from within. However, TSA agents were diligently guarding the contents of a simple box. The Armonk seemed to be a mechanical hand, which would check out on the grounds that it's known as the Arm-priest.

One individual glanced in our direction and their eyes widened, shouting, "Hey, we've got company!" As if it was planned, they slowly turned their heads towards us, clutching their wands.

"Alright, I think we'll have to push through," I stated.

"Remove these individuals!" one of them requested. "It would be preferable if they didn't make things more difficult for us."

Three individuals attacked us, and we had the opportunity to retaliate.

Swiftly, I employed my skills and delivered a powerful kick to the individual working on my behalf, causing him to collide with the glass as he retaliated with a shot.
"They're moving!" Greg shouted. I observed him and later on, noticed the cargo plane they were loading it onto, slowly approaching.

I needed to go.

With great speed, I raced towards the plane that was slowly gaining momentum, and I leaped - colliding with the closing door.

When it closed, I found myself overwhelmed with a sudden wave of regret coursing through my body. I found myself isolated from the rest of the passengers on a plane that was about to soar to heights exceeding 30,000 feet. What was I going to do once I relocated it — take off and soar? I have the ability to jump to great heights, but unfortunately, I always end up injuring myself, no matter how hard I try to avoid it.

I need to call Mr. Drails.

I glanced inside, observing the agents communicating and gesturing to one another, energetically discussing the placement of the Armonk.

I could explore the plane's design, and I could sense my body tremble with excitement.

Slowly, I maneuvered to the edge of the plane, trying to steady my heartbeat as it raced. I observed their actions and noticed that Rocke was completely disregarding the entire endeavor.

I had an extreme dislike and disgust for this individual. "Alright, everyone," Rocke said. "I require three individuals to keep a close eye on this area, and I expect absolute compliance when handling this weapon. Is that clear?"

"Indeed, sir," they replied.

One of them asked, "Sir, what should we do about those planes attacking the base?"

Rocke laughed, "Tell them to keep going, but I need that kid with the Perk dead!"

I really wanted to sweat and scream from the words. They were trying to get rid of me with those military planes — which was absolutely absurd. Maybe it was an unexpected disturbance, or they just wanted me to be completely obliterated. For some reason, it wasn't a pleasant experience.

"We will head back to the BMO base to take a break and relax for a while. No one will expect us in England at all," Demetrius Rocke taught.

I assumed he was talking to the pilots, as he had his back turned to them.

He casually entered the cockpit, and the TSA agents then proceeded to their positions. I stayed close to the corner, but casually glanced around to see if anything had changed.

Nothing.

I anticipated a moment of tranquility, a chance to calm my thoughts and find inner peace. I  had to call Mr. Drails and now.

That was the primary action I could take in this current situation. So I quickly grabbed the radio and switched it to the correct channel.

"Yeah?" Mr. Drails said.

I murmured in help, "Alright — you folks are alive, now um, would you say you are folks OK?"

"Yes, we will be. We managed to locate Nikki and another individual—"

"Greg, he's my friend from school and clearly an agent from the FMA. Did he let you guys know that?"

"What would you like us to know? We just saw each other, to be honest, where are you?" Mr. Drails asked.

"I'm inside a cargo plane holding the Armonk," I stated. Mr. Drails' voice suddenly shifted to a tone of concern.

"They took the Armonk?!" he exclaimed.

I felt my heart rate increase rapidly, and I quickly silenced him. I stammered nervously, "Um, well, listen. If any of you happen to spot a plane or something, I could try to reach Armonk, break down the door, and you can somehow teleport within the plane, then out. Then, we can quickly return to the YMPA and figure things out from there."

"How are we supposed to see it if it's a plane?!" "Mr. Drails inquired," he said.

"I have absolutely no clue," I said quickly. "Just let me know if you're coming by boat or vehicle. Okay?"

"Alright."

"Okay," I said, turning off the radio. I wiped away the sweat trickling down my forehead, and I gazed back at the Armonk.

There was a window positioned directly above the crate, and I was confident that if I spotted anything, it had to be them.

Alternatively, the tactical planes could be possible.

However, at that moment, I suddenly heard footsteps approaching me, causing a shiver to run down my spine. I took a deep breath, but it felt like I might not make it. Maybe I was! Then I noticed him casually entering my section of the plane, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he spotted me.

Swiftly, I pounced on him and swiftly subdued him, keeping him pinned down. He collapsed onto the floor, and I firmly grasped his neck, applying pressure to restrict his breathing. He fought fiercely, trembling like a live wire, and then he delivered a forceful kick to my leg, almost causing me to lose my grip.

"Hey there, what's going on?!" he shouted.

I quickly silenced him, and he began to speak anxiously.

I swiftly maneuvered my leg over his neck, a challenging task indeed, and maintained my position, diligently working to rectify the situation as best as possible. I noticed him starting to struggle for breath, and he seemed unable to find any relief. "Listen up, is there a secret to the container?" I inquired with him.

"I'm not sharing any information," he said gruffly. I tightened my grip, and he fought back with even greater determination, his shouts becoming increasingly desperate.

"Don't test me now," I stated, to which he silently agreed.

"Okay, the numbers are one, eighteen — "

I immediately removed my legs, since I already knew the code from the elevator, it must have been the same thing.

I watched as he tumbled down behind the crates beside me, and I slowly returned to all fours, inching my way towards the Armonk. However, at that moment, I heard my radio turn on and I quickly raced towards the opposite corner with a strong sense of righteousness.

"What happened?" I inquired, filled with worry.

"We're by you all!" Mr. Drails said. "We discovered a cargo plane that matched the description, but there is a potential concern about military aircraft in pursuit that could pose a threat to the plane you are currently on."

I felt a wave of unease wash over me.