A month had passed since she got her new apartment and she was doing great. She had picked up pick pocketing as a pass time and she was good, too good actually as she pinched a gun and badge from an undercover cop in a club once. Photographic reflexes was cheat no matter the universe. She could only imagine what would happen if she goes to Naruto world! She ditched the badge and gun after cleaning for prints and left the place. She heard later the place was raided after she had left.
The nation had slowly started to forget about her, some New York newspapers writing some filler stories about her and that's what she wanted. Just when the nation was about to forget her she would strike and deal a devasting hit. Which better place to do than the largest music festival in the country which would be held in LA in a month. The venue had already been set and it was her job to get inside and bring the fear of herself back. The bad thing was that she would probably be forced to move away.
Any way, she thought of how to get in without supervision. Luckily, she saw from a news article that an upcoming and talented singer would be present. Her name was Angela McKinney. She had produced three albums and each one a bigger hit that the last. Her eyes weren't set on the girl but the body guard. She smiled cruelly and took her car keys. She had gotten a very good forger to make her a good ID with even fake prints into the system. She now had a new ID and driving licence. The car she had belonged to a guy who she gently told to give her his car after she found him peeping on her in a bathroom.
She drove to Angela's house and started a stake out. She watched the hours she would come home from maybe parties and such, what her bodyguard would do. She memorized her schedule in two days and she was confident of doing this without her real identity been discovered. Just as she was about to start action, she saw her two favourite FBI agents drive into her house. She frowned in wonder about why they would come here so he got out of his car and crept to Angela's house. She jumped over the fence, keeping out of the cameras sights. Once she was clear, she got into the house through a window in the first floor.
"So why are the FBI so interested in this event?" she heard Angela ask.
"We are not interested in it, we think a domestic terrorist might attack the even," Agent Luke said. "Have you heard of Clarke Sullivan?"
"Yeah, the crazy chick from New York that killed all those old people," Angela answered, clearly eating something.
"We think she might attack the event. If she is successful, she will surpass her former infamy and come closer to fulfilling her dream of becoming the most wanted person in the world,"
"Why don't you give her that title then? It appears she will not stop until she achieves it," Angela asked. Clarke shook her head at the girl's naivety.
"If we do that then we might as well bend over to every criminal that is going to come after her asking for the same privilege," Agent Valentine told her.
"What we came to you for is to ask you a few questions. First of all, have you noticed suspicious people lurking around?"
"I am a popstar, suspicious people lurk around me everyday," Angela answered, a little bored.
"Did you or anyone close to you recently been to a near close accident that might seem a little suspicious?" Clarke was surprised at how thorough they were going in their search for her. She continued listening as the agents continue dashing her hopes of entering the place through the ground. They had even told her that they would take over her security detail till the end of the festival. Clarke took that as her cue out and like before made sure no camera spotted her before getting into her car and driving off.
"There's only one more way then," she said to herself as she got into her apartment. She searched for decommissioned planes for rent and saw one that caught her fancy. It was a world war 2 antique planes that had been rebuilt to be flight worthy. The renter was a plane enthuthias tic and he had many more models. Now, the other issue was making a bomb without alerting a watchlist so she had to make it outside the city. Good thing there were farms nearby with everything he needed. He packed a few things and head out. First thing she did was ditch her car.
From there, she flew to the farms. Flew, yes! Jessica Jones can fly but she had decided not to use that because it made her feel slightly funny and how dangerous it was if the government found a flying woman on their satellites. But right now was an emergency!
She hit the farms and got everything she needed. From there, she built a dirty bomb she needed inside a barrel (A/N: Once again, can't go to details about how to make a bomb, sorry.) It took three weeks of careful moving and we'll measured twerking to finally do it. She then borrowed a farm house to wash off her disguise and took the farmer's truck to head to the plane renter's place. She had to drive three hours plus to reach the place.
"Can I help you?" the renter asked her.
"Yep, I saw you rent WW2 antique planes,"
"Yeah, I do. Rebuilt them myself and got a certificate of airworthiness from the NTSA and ministry of defense. Which plane do you want?"
"I was thinking about the North American P-51D Mustang," Clarke said.
"Yep, we have that one. It's gonna cost ya though,"
"Don't worry about the price. Hop in, you give me the directions to the plane," She got into the truck and the man got onto the passenger's seat. He gave her the directions to the hanger the plane was in. A security guard opened the doors to the hanger and Clarke was impressed.
"It's in great shape," she said as she touched the sleek antique plane.
"It's a beauty, ain't it? My pride and joy, took me a lot of favours to have it added to my collection. You know all about the plane, I believe?"
"I do, yes," Clarke answered, remembering the many hours she spent watching how to fly one of these bad boys.
"Alrighty then, if you will follow me to my office with your flying license, Identification Card and security number just for standard procedure and we will conclude our job," the man said.
"Sure, let me grab them from the truck," Clarke said and headed to the passenger's side. She opened the glove compartment and took out the silenced Glock. This would be her signature weapon when she was Clarke the terrorist as she had decided. She took down the security guard opened with one shot to the head and downed the renter with a shot to his knee. The man was a screamer, apparently and he didn't shy away from opening his lungs when he felt his knee shot.
"Please, please don't kill me!" the man begged.
"The keys to the plane, now!" Clarke ordered him.
"In my office, just don't shoot," he sniveled. Clarke showed him to lead the way, making sure the gun was on his ribs just in case he decided to ask for help. When they entered the building, she saw a secretary waiting for them. The poor girl never expected to die today and Clarke had no mercy to give. He was surprised at how the man had little to no security. He could feel him trembling as they walked past her body to his office. Once in, he pointed to where the keys were as he hobbled to his chair only to have Clarke get hold of him by his hair.
"Nothing personal," he said and shot him through the head. His body slumped on the floor and Clarke took the keys. The festival was starting the following day and it would last for three days. The first day wouldn't be packed but the second day would definitely be the perfect day to bomb it. She went to the plane and pushed it outside the hanger. She then fueled it to the top before fixing the barrel with a release mechanism at the bottom of the plane. With the preparations done, all she had to do was wait.
The second day of the Music Festival started out great. A famous RnB singer had warmed the crowd up for the upcoming artists and activities. The FBI agents, national guard and police were making sure security was beefed, anyone who dared to sneak in would probably have the worst days of their lives. With the first day of Clarke not on sight, they had slightly let their guard down but still vigilant enough not to let any miscreant sneak in.
It was at midday that everyone heard something odd. They looked at the sky and saw an oncoming plane. It had something dangling below it and it was suspicious as hell how it was flying so slo. Agent Valentine recognized the plane.
"That's a WW2 North American P-51D Mustang. What's it doing here?" she asked then took her binoculars. With how low it was flying, she would definitely recognize the pilot. When she used them, she saw Clarke smiling at the people below and her heart skipped a beat. When she looked at what she was carrying, she saw a barrel and assumed the worst. Clarke had already made and detonated one bomb, what's making her not make another.
"It's her," she told her partner and handed him the binoculars. Agent Luke confirmed it and looked around. They couldn't possibly get all these people to vacate for the plane was right above them. They could only do one thing.
"TAKE COVER!" he shouted, getting down himself. The trained officers did as told but th citizens were confused. That moment of hesitation probably cost most of their lives when the barrel hit the ground.