A Gulfstream G800 screeched across the stratosphere. Clocking at over 1,000 kilometers per hour, it aviated proudly across the majestic blue sky.

Inside the jet, a man, dressed in his signature Dormeuil Vanquish III suit and Chopard sunglasses, sat on his equally luxurious leather recliner. The aristocrat stared out of the window while sipping his white wine.

Honestly, I hate flying, but when you’re inside the most expensive private jet the world has to offer, it’s not bad, not bad at all. My plane can change your mind faster than you can say, Jack Robinson. Wait a minute. Who the fuck is Jack Robinson anyway? It needs rephrasing. Faster than you can say, Mister Henry King. That sounds so much better. I must instruct the Dean. Uh-huh. I need to make a mental note of this–

All power went out. Putting the wineglass down, the King gripped his hands on the armrest as if his life depended on it.

Don’t tell me. My state-of-the-art jet is going down in flames. Fucking great, just fucking–

When the power came back, the King loosened up with a slow smile. He removed his sunglasses and looked around.

Everything seems alright now.

“Sorry about that, Mr. King,” the pilot spoke through the intercom. “We probably encountered a solar flare or something, losing all power for maybe five seconds. I’ll have the engineers check on it as soon as we land. Don’t worry, sir. All systems are all good now.”

“Alright, Captain. By the way, how long to our destination?”

“ETA twelve minutes, Mr. King.”

“Excellent.”

Mr. Henry King gulped.

Was I scared? Not really. Power goes out for five seconds, no problem. My jet is equipped with all the necessary safety measures in case something like this happens.

He pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Yeah. Who am I kidding? I was terrified. All the money and power in the world couldn’t even save me if my jet went down.

Mr. King got to his feet and walked to another room.

That’s why I’m going to this important meeting. Julius said that they finally succeeded.

He entered a secret compartment, then touched a glass panel.

Hello, pal. Get ready. For sure, you will see some action this weekend.

Shortly after, Mr. King exited the room and stared out the window. “Hello, beautiful island.” He surveyed the view below, his eyes widening. “Captain, where’s the runway?”

“Mr. King, the watchtower said Mr. Power built the runway underground.”

“King’s flight,” the watchtower announced through the intercom, “please proceed to gate number three leading to our indoor runway.”

Mr. King scanned the island and noticed a portion of the beachfront opening.