Death was prevalent in the air around him, clogging up his nostrils with its coppery odor of freshly spilled blood. Screams of terror and pain filled his eardrums from all directions, and the only sites that came to his eyes were random explosions, bodies flying across the room, blood splattering every available surface. From somewhere in the midst of all the chaos and destruction, he could hear, "Marcus!" Being screamed at a high pitch, filled with the terror of an almost certain demise. Marcus reached outwards, putting all of his strength into moving his body forward, but for some reason it felt as if he was moving in slow-motion, like he was submerged in a pool of water and unable to move anywhere close to as fast as he normally moved.<br/><br/>To his left, Ramirez fell, bullet-holes appearing in his forehead, to his right Jacobs fell to his knees, clutching a hand over the gaping wound of his stomach, his innards spilling out onto the ground. Time seeming to slow around him, Marcus watched as the decapitated head of his best friend, Michaels, fly by him, a look of astonishment eternally plastered on his corn-fed features. "Rachel!" He yelled as loud as he could, leaping forward as he watched her being taken to her knees, a gun placed to the back of her skull. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to reach her in time, but he was going to do everything in his power to try and accomplish it. He was only a few yards away when a single shot rang throughout the crowded room, drowning out the noise of the gunfire around him.<br/><br/>Suddenly he felt a hand touching his right shoulder and instantly all alarms in his mind went of full alert. With lightning quick movements his left hand snapped forward to grip around the wrist of the person touching him, yanking their form towards him as his left seemed to withdraw a tiny throwing knife from one of his many pockets lining the right side of his pants. Within the blink of an eye he had the blade of the throwing knife pressed gently to the assailant's neck. It was then that the world came into focus and he realized what was happening. "Oh my God...." he said, immediately releasing the stewardess as he let the knife fall to the floor.<br/><br/>"I'm so sorry... I.... I'm sorry..." he said, looking towards her, his wide eyes showing the large amount of remorse that was currently flooding his mind. The stewardess looked shocked beyond words, a hand pressed to her chest, looking as if she might pass out, "We are arriving in Atlanta..." she breathed, though it was obvious she was completely frightened by the ordeal. "Thank you..." Marcus said, as gently and comforting as he could, but the stewardess said nothing, instead heading towards the front of the plane, occasionally glancing over her shoulder in his direction. Marcus let out a sigh, leaning forward in his seat to rest his knees on his elbows and his face in his palms, still trying to shake off the after effects of the dream.