Love Moira
I was in the washroom when I heard gunshots echoing through the plane. My senses were dulled—I had indulged in a bit too much wine—but the chaos yanked me back to reality as soon as I stepped out. What met my eyes was a nightmare come to life. A young man lay lifeless, a bullet wound in his skull, and a group of armed boys, no older than their twenties, had taken control of IC027. They carried pistols and vests packed with grenades, their faces void of remorse, their intent chillingly clear.