Havoc in Havana [MHA x OC]

❀ 02: Fear Of Flying

Chapter 2: Fear Of Flying
Dedicated to JunieWeathers

With my suitcase tightly packed up, I quickly hugged Q before he changed his mind about this. After that, two employees at the IHP helped me throw my bags into the plane.

Said plane was. . . experienced to put it gently. If I was being honest though, I'd point out that it was a piece of junk. The metal exterior barely clung to the sides of the machine while the engine was older than Q or Detective Rizo. By the sound of the motor and propellers, I wouldn't trust that thing to carry anyone across the ocean. However, it was my only ticket to Havana, so there wasn't any other choice.

"Please be good, kid," Q pleaded with me. "For the love of every atom in you, please be good." As he pulled away from the hug, I could only be slightly offended that he was that worried about me. Then again, maybe he had a point there.

I gently rolled my eyes at Q's over protectiveness, telling him, "I could say the same to you."

It wasn't until after another long and tearful goodbye from everyone that I started to board the plane. The plan was for me to sneak into Cuba past their borders on a plane of imported goods. I would land in Matanzas before making my way into Havana.

The IHP employees that would be piloting the plane called me over to them. I slid my bags over to one corner of the rickety plane between two crates and sat on the floor next to them. I waved to Q as the doors to the plane shut, and I hugged my duffle bag with a new realization.

I had never been on a plane before.

Sure, I had no proof that I didn't have a fear of flying, but the opposite could just as easily have been proven as the shaky plane started to move. I tried to stay calm, but that was hard to do when it felt like the floor could collapse at any minute.

I gripped the straps to my luggage, knowing I had to do something to keep myself from worrying. I figured this would be a better time than ever to review the alias folder given to me by the IHP.

I unzipped my luggage to pull out the black folder at the top. Inside was a typed up identity and all the information I would need.

One couldn't think that I would be going undercover without a top secret alias identity to go with me, right? Well, the IHP sure thought I could use something new. I told them my first and last name as well as my preferred nickname. It wasn't long until Detective Rizo said it wouldn't fit in.

I'm sorry, but I'm Cuban, aren't I? I had thought. I didn't say anything at the time though. I wasn't sure where I was allowed to disagree with this whole operation.

I glanced over the paper files in my hand where the name "Tula Ross" read over the top in bolded print. You would think that important government agents would be a little bit more creative than that.