(Originally posted August 1st 2022) I present to you a brief excerpt from volume one of my newest series, Liberator: the People’s Guard, which should be out shortly. Enjoy!

Inside the plane, the Premier and his aides were sitting down and going over their itinerary for their visit. Two armed guards stood at the front of the plane. As far as anyone knew, they were simply there for security. The truth, however, was that these two and the pilot were actually members of the Nihilist movement. Their goal was to kidnap the Premier, take him to a remote location, and hold him hostage until the government of Ruthenia agreed to their demands. One of the aides noticed both guards were carrying AK-15 assault rifles.

“Is that really necessary?” she asked. “It seems a little like overkill.”

“After what happened at the parade, one can never be too careful, ma’am,” the guard replied

nonchalantly.

As if to prove their point, they were distracted by the sound of banging coming from directly beneath the floor. The guards turned and looked at each other. Neither of them knew what exactly it was, but they had a feeling someone had discovered their plan. Reacting on instinct, they decided to spring into action.

“A stowaway!” one shouted.

“Probably another terrorist,” the other one lied. Both guards figured it was a government agent who learned of their plan and snuck on board, trying to stop them. The guards looked at each other and nodded. They decided their best course of action was simply shoot to kill. “Stay here!” the guard told the Premier and his aides. Before they could check it out, the door to the back of the plane opened and out stepped the Liberator.

The Premier and his aides stood up in shock. “How did you get on board?” the Premier asked.

“I climbed in through the landing gear, into the wheel well,” he replied. “I then forced my way

up, through the floor and into that room back there.

“Why would you do that?” the Premier demanded.

“Because I have reason to believe this plane isn’t going to Helvetica,” he answered. “I overheard some guards talking on the ground, mentioning that the plane would go off course.” He then turned his attention to the two guards. He noticed how nervous they both looked. He could almost hear their hearts racing in their chest. “The guards on the tarmac mentioned that ‘their pilot was onboard.’ You two wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

The Premier and his aides turned toward the two guards. Despite the relatively comfortable

temperature inside the cabin, everyone noticed how the two guards were both sweating profusely.

“Sir,” one of the guards spoke directly to the Premier, “I regret to inform you of this, but we have reason to believe that the Liberator is secretly working with enemy foreign agents. As a result, we’ve been forced to take a different route to deliver you to a more secure location.” This was, of course, a lie. No one had anticipated the Liberator would have caught up to the plane as it was taking off, and they certainly hadn’t figured on him making it into the plane. While there had been many reported incidents of people stowing away on planes by hiding in the wheel well, the lack of oxygen, coupled with low air pressure and temperature, meant most people who attempted such a feat didn’t survive, even assuming they weren’t simply crushed to death when the landing gear retracted.

“And why wasn’t I notified of this?” the Premier asked doubtfully.

“It was for your own safety, sir,” the other guard lied. “We couldn’t risk him finding out,” he

nervously gestured toward the Liberator.

“Then why did the soldiers on the ground say they were sending fighter jets to escort it? Just in

case the Premier or his aides managed to regain control?” he demanded.

The guards looked at each other nervously. One of them turned to the Premier. “He’s lying,

sir,” the guard stammered.

“You’re the ones who are lying!” the Liberator shouted as he slowly moved toward them. “Who

are you? Who sent you? Are you part of the group that hacked control of the tanks and made them

attack the Citadel?”

With their cover blown, the guards aimed their guns at the Liberator and opened fire. Like when Petro tested Tovarich by shooting him with the handgun back in the lab, the bullets struck the Liberator straight in the chest, torso, and head, only to bounce right off him. They stopped firing and stared at him with pure dread. Even Tovarich was slightly surprised by this. Unlike Petro’s “test,” these were full automatic AK-15 assault rifles, much more powerful than a simple revolver.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, Tovarich thought. After all, I was crushed by a tank only a few days ago, yet I’m still alive. Compared to that, being shot by AK-15s is nothing. He moved toward the Nihilists. Not knowing what to do, they simply aimed their guns at him and opened fire again. It was a futile attempt, but then again, they probably weren’t expecting this, so they didn’t exactly have many options. However, the Liberator wasn’t concerned about himself; he was worried about the Premier. If they continued firing, there was a possibility some of the bullets might ricochet off him and strike the Premiere or puncture holes in the cabin. Fortunately, the Premier and his aides took cover behind some chairs. Thus, the Nihilists continued firing until they exhausted all their ammo. Panicking and acting out of desperation, one of the Nihilists swung his rifle at the Liberator like a bat, hoping that he could bludgeon him to death. This time, Liberator willingly did nothing. He was now confident that he was in no danger. Thus, the rifle struck him in the side of his head, only to break upon impact. The Nihilist just stood there paralyzed with fear. The Liberator stood there, giving him a cold, hard stare, allowing his opponent a moment to realize that it was truly futile. The other Nihilist, either bravely or foolishly, pulled out a survival egress knife, the kind used by military personnel if they needed to escape a downed aircraft and survive in the wilderness. He charged the Liberator, trying in vain to slash and stab him with it. Like before, Liberator did nothing. He wanted to show his opponent that it was futile. Thus, he slashed at the Liberator’s throat, but the blade did nothing, not even scratch his skin. Next, he tried to stab him in the chest. However, the blade simply broke upon impact. Raising his right arm, the

Liberator delivered a backhand slap to the man’s face. The man flew backwards, slamming into the far wall of the cabin, before collapsing dead on the floor. However, the Liberator wasn’t sure if the impact of his hand or his head hitting the cabin wall delivered the killing blow. Not that it mattered to the Liberator, this man was an enemy of the people, so he got what he deserved as far as Tovarich was concerned.

The Liberator turned his attention to the other Nihilist who had tried to bludgeon him with the assault rifle. Realizing how truly screwed he was, he fell to his knees, “Please, don’t kill me!” he begged. “Have mercy!”

“Enemies of the people don’t deserve mercy,” the Liberator coldly reminded him, quoting a

phrase that had been drilled into the heads of Ruthenians all their lives. With his genetically enhanced reflexes, he grabbed the man by his neck and snapped it like a twig with little effort. Turning his attention back to the Premier, who peeked out from behind his chair, the Liberator asked, “Are you all right, sir?”

The Premier nodded uneasily.

“Stay here,” the Liberator instructed before heading to the cockpit. The Liberator entered the cockpit. Grabbing the pilot by his right arm, the Liberator yanked him out of his chair. “Turn this plane around and land right now!” he barked.

The pilot just grinned smugly, “Or what? You’ll kill me? If I land the plane, I’ll be arrested, and

then they’ll sentence me to death anyway. Besides, even if you do kill me, there would be no one left

to fly the plane, so your threat is meaningless!”

The Liberator glared at him. The man was right. If he did comply and land the plane, he’d be arrested and given a show trial where a guilty verdict would already be rendered before the trial even began. “So what you’re saying is I should just kill you right here and now?” he threatened.

“Look out the window,” the pilot motioned. The Liberator turned his head to see two fighter

jets, one on either side, flanking the plane.

“You’ve hijacked this plane; you obviously want the Premier alive,” the Liberator deduced. “Tell those pilots to stand down. If they open fire, you’ll kill your hostage.”

“What makes you think that wasn’t part of our plan?” the pilot bluffed.

“Why go to all this trouble just to kill him?” the Liberator figured. “There are many easier ways you could have finished off the Premier. Why go to all this trouble if you just wanted him dead?”

“You’re right,” the pilot admitted, “we hoped to take him alive and force him to submit to our

demands. But since that’s obviously no longer an option, we might as well just shoot the plane down.”

“If they shoot down the plane, you die too,” the Liberator argued. He had hoped that might compel the pilot to cooperate.

The pilot just shrugged, “I’m dead either way. And soon, you’ll be too!”

“Will I? A tank at the parade ran me over, and I survived without even a scratch,” the Liberator

replied. After having survived that, he was certain that he’d survive being shot down by another plane.

“Can the Premier also make that claim?” the pilot asked.

The Liberator silently cursed as he released his grip on the pilot. He had hoped that fear would cause the pilot to forget about the Premier. The more the Liberator thought it over, there was only one way to end this.

Meanwhile, the pilot turned and grabbed the cockpit radio. He contacted the fighter jets following him, “The Liberator IS HERE! OPEN FIRE!”