The supposedly "disabled" bandit shuddered upon hearing the words, suddenly regaining his purpose. He glanced at the economy cabin and said firmly:
"Listen, Captain, don't try any tricks! This plane is under my control now. If anyone lays a hand on me, my accomplice will ensure that all of you die together at ten thousand meters high!"
He actually wanted to threaten those two tall men and the woman. But he was afraid that they would charge ahead recklessly once angered—
After all, those were the kind of thugs who'd brutally knock out four people over a piece of clothing that could just be cleaned.
And his fragile physique couldn't withstand even a single slap from them.
So the "disabled" bandit emphasized again to the seemingly rational captain his leverage, reminding everyone not to act against him.
The captain's voice paused, then he calmly said, "Yes, I already know that."
After a slight pause, he added:
"Since you have control over the lives of everyone on this plane, could you please release the young girl first? I will heed your demands, as will everyone else."
The bandit looked at the stewardess he initially took hostage. The girl's hands clung to his arm, her slender legs trembling incessantly, tears flowing inevitably, making her appear extremely pitiable.
Indeed, he had hijacked the plane, but holding such a person nearby impeded his actions and made him appear insecure—as if he didn't have any accomplices at all.
The bandit released his hold. The stewardess stumbled and nearly fell, her colleague quickly pulled her away into a corner far from the bandit.
The stewardess's neck was slashed with five or six shallow cuts by the sharp blade and was bleeding now.
Looking at her extremely terrified expression, the bandit couldn't help but murmur softly, "Sorry."
The two stewardesses closest heard clearly, both slightly stunned.
Afterward, the bandit grabbed the microphone with one hand: "I've released her; now it's time for my demands!"
"Yes," the captain said warmly, "Please go ahead."
"I want to broadcast live with CNN! Connect me now!"
"I'm sorry," the captain replied calmly, "There's no direct line to TV stations on the plane, but we have an air satellite phone that can connect to ground numbers. Who would you like us to contact?"
"CNN, CNN!" The band's tone was viciously shouting, "Connect me with the media! I demand they broadcast this negotiation worldwide! I want the world to hear my demands!"
The captain was silent for a moment, then his voice came through the receiver again, "Please wait, the line needs time to connect…"
The bandit waited anxiously, continually slapping his thigh. His bloodshot eyes malevolently scoured the cabin, attempting to intimidate every hostage with his gaze.
But the hostages were all behaving "obediently," even the man and woman he feared most didn't attempt to attack him. Instead, the two were "searching the body."
"Don't worry, we are not bad people!"
The two-meter tall man lifted the unconscious body in the black jacket, while his hands searched, speaking in a cheerful tone:
"These guys are also thugs wanting to blow up the plane. We happened to overhear them discussing plans and so we stopped them."
Meanwhile, the woman had already pulled a porcelain knife and fishing line from the glasses-wearing woman, followed by finding disguised dart guns, a makeshift low-power detonator assembled from ordinary electronic components, as well as gasoline inside a shampoo bottle.
The tall man laughed with everyone, saying, "See, how important it is to prohibit carrying liquids on board! The airline should address such dangerous behaviors!"
But none of the passengers laughed. As they watched more dangerous items being found, some genuine passengers felt on the verge of madness—
Had this plane violated the heavens' laws? How could so many people want to drag everyone into Hell?
"You two! Sit back down! Or do you want to take everyone to die together?"
Seeing their motions becoming more casual, as if he was about to be forgotten by people, the "disabled" bandit roared bravely!
"Alright, alright, we're sitting down now."
The woman raised her hands slowly and returned to her seat, saying: "After all, you also wouldn't want to be blown to bits for no reason, right?"
"Shut up!"
The bandit roared.
The tall man made a gesture of zipping his mouth shut, also sitting down, limbs stretching out.
On the back end of the cabin, a passenger with a hat looked at the tall man's protruding back, slightly furrowing his eyebrows.
The operation failed... Luckily there's a backup plan.
But those two's combat moves... why do they seem like base training?
…
Seeing those two extraordinarily powerful people actually sitting down, seemingly not intending to make moves secretly, Thomas O'Brien looked utterly desperate.
Recently, tickets from New York to London were exceptionally tight, and he had pressing matters requiring him to go to London. With difficulty, he bought a ticket from a travel agency, only to find himself on such a death flight.
Had he known, he might as well have stayed in New York driving taxis... At least there would be no threat to life.
Thomas Nick wanted to dry heave, jump up and shout, or simply cry out... Going mad might be better than watching his life become a bargaining chip in someone else's negotiation, seemingly dancing on the line of death every second.
However, the passengers around him displayed unusual calmness, making Nick feel utterly embarrassed to show his emotions.
He hated himself for caring about others' opinions even when facing death, yet his butt remained firmly glued to his seat, unable to move.
After what seemed like an eternity, Nick finally heard a faint hiss of electric current—
"This is CNN at the Atlanta headquarters. I'm anchor Kerry Clarkson. We are now broadcasting live."
"Sir, can you hear me?"
Hearing the authoritative media voice, comparing it with the memory of the anchor's voice, a hint of satisfaction and determination finally crossed the bandit's eyes.
He took a deep breath, his voice reaching the whole world:
"Hello, Kerry. I am... I am Quivin Martin... I am a father..."
"Hello, Quivin," Kerry immediately said, "I'm listening—what do you want to say?"
Many passengers in the cabin watched him. Bandit Martin didn't evade but looked directly at those mixed eyes of disgust, anger, curiosity, and fear, slowly saying:
"I'm sorry, for hijacking this plane and making it a terrifying memory for many; I'm also sorry for causing trouble for you and the airport."
"I... I am not a bad person. But please do not doubt my resolve. When I boarded this plane, I had already decided..."
"If I cannot achieve my purpose, I would rather drag everyone down to Hell together!"
He said this sentence particularly calmly. But because it was calm, the person on the other end of the receiver almost immediately believed in the steadfastness of his resolve.