As the plane finally touched down, the whole of the assembled passengers crammed inside gave a collective sigh of relief. The flight had been miserable. Turbulence persisted for the entire 6-hour flight. There were three babies on board, and all of them had spent the flight crying to be let down to play. The flight was fully booked, which meant they were crammed into their seats like sardines in a can. Even the kindly old man sitting between two strangers seemed a little worse for wear. He'd spent most of the flight sleeping, as the stewardess had noticed. Now, as the passengers were fidgeting anxiously, preparing to make the mad rush into the isles to retrieve their carry-on bags and suitcases, he sat calmly in his seat. His was the only face that seemed relaxed.<br/><br/>In fact, he was far from relaxed. He'd tried, with great effort, to rest through the flight, but succeeded in dozing off only a few times. However, he found feigning slumber much more peaceful than suffering through any more conversation with the woman next to him. When the plane finally landed, he felt free to open his eyes and gather his few belongings.<br/><br/>When at last the old man had retrieved his checked baggage, he quickly checked to make sure he hadn't lost or forgotten anything, then crossed through the sliding doors to the line of waiting taxis. The first taxi in the long line was being boarded by a family with young children. They seemed to be struggling with their luggage. Resigned to waiting for them before his taxi could pull out into traffic, he stowed his luggage in the trunk of the second taxi, and settled into the back seat.<br/><br/>The driver turned around slightly in his seat to ask the old man a question. His accent was terrible. The sentence was barely english after his clumsy grasp of the language was finished with it. The old man fought back a frown and leaned forward, cupping a hand over his ear.<br/><br/>"Eh?" he said loudly.<br/><br/>The driver rolled his eyes and faced forward again, surrendering the attempt at small talk. fighting a satisfied smirk, the old man sat in blissful silence until the taxi had reached the destination he gave: a small, run-down diner.<br/><br/>Exiting the cab, the old man paid the driver the appropriate fare and tip, retrieved his luggage, then began crossing the parking lot, heading for the front entrance.<br/><br/>It was then that his carefully laid plans shattered. He'd been so careful. The disguise was so perfect. Not even the paparazzi had recognized him... So how was he now surrounded by hostile men decidedly poor taste in fashion? How had they found him? Quickly dropping the old man act, he let go of the handle of the larger suitcase, and swung smaller carry-on case. The wheel of the case connected with the side of a man's head and he felt the impact reverberate up his arm. Catching the case by the handle on the side, he used both hands to grip it, using it now as both weapon and shield.<br/><br/>Skilled as he was, it was only a matter of time. Facing four men, it was all he could do to avoid the majority of the blows sent at him. Before long, he felt something solid connect with the back of his head and his knees buckled under him. Stars danced in his vision and he shook his head, trying to clear it. For the first time in a long while, he felt fear building inside him.<br/><br/>This was it... he'd never thought he'd go out like this...