Time for a bit of a character description!

Mari Mendell

Age: 15

Hair color: Brown with self dyed blond highlights

Eye color: blueish green

Personality: Funny, Sarcastic, stubborn, and a total nerd.

Anything bold is a note from the author

Fasten your seat belts kids. Here we go!

Let's be honest here. It wasn't Mari's idea to get on that plane. Really it wasn't. She was under the influence of something extremely addictive. That would be money and a stubborn personality. Stay away from that combo, kids. It can be more dangerous than alcohol, believe me.

But let's back up a little to yesterday morning when things were happy and full of sunshine and rainbows and love...

Ha.

Ha.

No.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!", Mari screamed as she amped the volume up on her head phones. "This my jam.. Ready 1-2-3...DROP THE BASE!", she said as she rocked out with an air guitar. Mari's converse slapped against the wet pavement. Her dark, thick eyeliner surrounded her ocean colored eyes. She had gone out of the way to look extra wild in her black skinny jeans, converse, and thick eyeliner. Mari wore her favorite Hetalia t shirt. It had a picture of all the main characters on it. Her best friend, Taylor walked along side her, looking like a complete contrast. He wore a clean button down white shirt and slacks. It was part of his uniform that was required for the restaurant he worked in at the airport. Taylor watched her spin around as though she was possessed by some big dark demonic thingy. Even though Mari seemed overly confident, he could sense that beneath all those layers of sarcasm and memorized Greenday lyrics that she was worried. Her dad, a pilot, was coming back in town for Christmas, which was 2 days away. Even though it was the busiest time of year at the airport, the firm had let him take one day off to be with his neglected daughter. Mari lived alone with her dad, who since his occupation, was never around. Taylor could always tell how worried Mari was by the amount of eyeliner she wore. To her, eyeliner was just another confidence boost. If confidence were a drug, Taylor suspected she might have taken a bit of an overdose... But he didn't mind.

As they approached the airport, he unplugged her headphones. "Your scaring people. Put on a sweet face, ok?", Taylor asked with a slight grumble to his voice. He was used to playing the role of Mari's big brother. She scowled up at him. However, the scowl quickly changed into a mischievous grin. Oh no.. Taylor could feel a Hetalia reference about to come out of Maris mouth. Her voice changed into a spot on Russian accent. "Behind my svweet face, I am hiding a dark and terrrible secret.", she said with wide innocent eyes. Taylor groaned but responded in a French accent "I knew it!" She grinned as they walked in through the familiar glass doors. "Come, comrade Russia. Let us get to work.", Mari said happily. Taylor smirked. As if Mari ever actually worked. She just sat around all day, but most everyone still liked her.

Mari's POV

No matter what anyone says, I'm a freaking princess, k? Princesses should not have their headphones unplugged by Taylor Peasants. Although, The Hetalia reference made it better.

We walked up the stairs to the food court area where Taylor worked. The place he worked at was a little Italian restaurant called Taste Of Italy. If you've read any Germany/ Italy fan fics, you'll see how completely wrong that sounds. If you haven't read any, than don't. It will ruin your innocence. Forevvverrrrr. I sat up on top of the tables as everyone rushed about, prepping for the airports opening. As people rushed I caught whispers of "Did you see it?" And "The plane." With a side of "Military, maybe?" I called Nicholas over. He was a scrawny little git with gelled up hair and an attitude that made him seem a foot taller than he actually was. He placed his hands on his hips as I asked him what everyone was talking about. Nicholas led me over to a window. Outside was a large futuristic looking plane. It seemed to be a luxury model. I breathed a sigh. It was a beautiful model, unlike anything I had ever seen. Then I felt the a cold evil presence come up behind me. It was one of the other workers, Grace. Let's stop and take a moment to combine Regina George, Voldemort, Barbie, and Satan into one body. That would sort of describe Grace. "Like the plane, eh, Mari?", she drawled. I glared at her, not replying. "How much would it cost, you think, to go inside it and take a few pictures for me?", she said challengingly. Oh no.. I can't say no to a dare... I just can't.. Dear lawd. "How much do you have?", I answered, mimicking her tone. Grace to out a 100$ bill and ran it under my nose. I gulped. "You've got yourself a deal."

So, I'll admit. It wasn't the smartest idea. But hey, I was bored, poor, and feeling defiant. Another bad combo. I crept along the airspace, casually waving at anyone who looked at me weird. One of the luggage cart thingys flipped over. A bunch of people ran over to fix it. I took that as a good distraction and dashed up the ramp where a few crates were being loaded into the cargo carrying part of the plane. It must be huge inside to have its own cargo hold, I thought. Then again, it looked more like some space Star Trek ship rather than a regular plane. I stepped inside the cargo hold and went through a doorway which I deduced went into the main part of the plane. Holy. Roman. Empire.

The interior of the plane was beautiful. Yes, I know I'm fangirling over a plane, but hey, everyone has quirks. See, that's what I want to do when I grow up. Design planes and stuff like that. I think theirs something special planes. I mean everyone has a story, a vacation they have always wanted to go on, a person they want to meet, ect. And planes take them there. I know, call me crazy, but I want to help those dreams come true. Really cheesy, I know. You'll just have to deal with it. I walked around the cabin. Leather chairs and plasma tv screens were located against almost every wall. There were speakers mounted on the walls. Total surround sound, baby. Holy Roman Empire, I was jealous. The only problem with the plane was that it was filthy. Who ever owned it was a totally lay to the z. Some American flag boxers lay on a seat. Ew. I snapped a few pictures on my iPhone and made my way back to the door.

Then I heard voices coming from the front of the plane.

Damn.

And they were making their way back to here.

I ran to the back of the plane, planing to escape back through the luggage ramp only to find it had been sealed. I panicked. I ran back towards the door to go confront who ever owned the plane and face the consequences. But suddenly the plane started to move. The momentum knocked me over. I fell over, hitting my head, hard. Lights danced before my eyes as I lost conscious.

I'm not sure what made slip back into consciousness. Maybe it was my ears popping, meaning we were in high altitude. Or maybe it had something to do with the oddly familiar voices I was hearing. I slowly got up. I wobbled, unsteadily and fell down again with a loud THUMP! "What was zat?", I heard a man with a deep French accent say. "Alfred, go look and see.", another man said. I noted he had a British accent. He sounded very familiar. "Aww do I have to?", whined a voice. "Arthur, grab your gun and get up off the floor!", a man said with a thick German accent. Gun. These people had guns. I heard footstep get close to my door. I readied a fighting stance, my muscles tensing. The lock turned and the door swung open. "FOR NARNIA!", I screamed as I kicked the man hard in the stomach. He crumpled to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. "WHAT THE BLAZES WAS THAT?!?", British accent yelled. The young mans glasses were askew. His blond hair and blue, pained eyes made him look like a male model. "Hero Down!", he moaned. And then it hit me like a slap in the face, or, you could say, a kick in the stomach. I knew his face. I had seen it on tv. I had posters of it in my room. His face plastered multiple t shirts and plushies I owned. Holy freakin Roman Empire.

It was America.

*Cue dramatic music*

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