“You! Them? What in the world is this?” The girl’s mother, a sheriff, couldn’t understand why anyone would want to steal her son’s toy car, feeling odd about the situation.
Thinking it was just a toy, she decided to let it go. It wasn’t worth chasing them alone, especially not with her husband, son, and daughter right there.
Even if she caught up, it seemed pointless. Those stealing the toy car appeared abnormal—what if they were escaped psychiatric patients?
As the man and woman ran in different directions, the girl’s mom, the strongest person there, didn’t pursue her. Bella, with her solid mental fortitude, didn’t chase either. This whole incident had nothing to do with her!
However, the young girl was quite clever. Standing on the outskirts, she quickly tripped the woman who had taken the toy car.
The girl’s mom, feeling somewhat helpless but unable to ignore the fallen woman, quickly subdued her with a standard military takedown and retrieved the toy car.
It was a glorious victory!
Although suspecting there was more to the toy car, Bella decided to leave. She was just a bystander; why waste more time?
Hearing her flight being called, she bid farewell to the family.
“I recommend you call the police soon. These individuals seemed to have a dubious agenda.”
She quickly wrote on a notepad: “It was nice to meet you. I am Isabella Swan. Here’s my number; you can contact me anytime if the police need verification.”
Impulsively, she handed the notepad to the young girl.
Probably because she was very charming.
Upon hearing her introduce herself, the girl shared her identity: “Natasha Romanoff.”
Who?! Bella’s expression suddenly became very odd.
Telling herself to stay calm, she looked the girl over and hesitantly asked, “What year were you born?”
Such a question from a man would be pretty awkward, likely resulting in a splash of water or a kick, but it was fine coming from a woman.
Unprepared for the question, the young Natasha casually responded, “1984. And you, Miss Swan?”
“Uh, I was born in 1983. You can call me Bella.”
“Natasha,” replied Natasha Romanoff, her response short and cool.
The conversation between the two women ended quickly, or rather, Bella hurriedly exited.
With Natasha here, who knows if Hawkeye and Tony Stark might appear next? Whether she’s a pretty girl or a beautiful woman, born in 1984 or 1884, it didn’t matter to Bella. As an ordinary person, she was better off staying far away.
Bella bought stylish sunglasses cheaply at a shop, quickly forgetting about the Natasha incident.
She found her boarding gate, but just as she was about to step forward, a sudden suspicion stopped her.
Her mind was flooded with confusing images—disease, corruption, disaster, slaughter. Some were vividly real, others flickered like slides in a presentation, appearing briefly before vanishing without a trace.
Bella felt her palms sweat, her heart beating rapidly as if she had received some information, but due to the limitations of human brain structure, she couldn’t correctly interpret what it meant.
Sweat soaked her forehead, her lips parted but emitting no sound, as if an invisible giant hand clutched her soul, the intense fear almost suffocating her.
“Passengers of flight 180, please prepare for boarding.” The airport’s announcements continued as usual, but to Bella, it sounded like intermittent electronic noise mixed with almost imperceptible static, as if some high-power electrical device was causing interference nearby.
“Why is this person standing in the middle?”
“Did she suddenly fall ill?”
The sudden voices were like throwing a massive stone into a lake, pulling Bella out of her strange trance, and she regained some ability to move. Her neck stiffly turned to see a group of men and women walking past her, led by an older teacher.
A few somewhat attractive girls looked at Bella with sympathy—country folks, never flown before?
“Miss, do you need help?” The middle-aged female teacher noticed Bella standing at the gate, neither entering nor leaving, and couldn’t help but ask.
“Ah? Oh, no! I’m fine!” Bella nearly jumped in fright. She looked at the distant plane, the drizzling rain outside the window, and then at the wall clock, unable to calm her heart.
She stepped aside, her memory fuzzy. She had seen a movie years ago and forgotten the details but trusted her intuition.
This plane was not safe! Boarding meant certain death!
Watching over forty young men and women excitedly prepare to board, she hesitated several times but ultimately decided to speak up.
Bella stopped the teacher: “The rain is getting heavier, and the plane was already delayed an hour, maybe maybe,” she faltered, struggling to find the right words.
“Crazy!”
“Her outfit is so outdated, and she looks like she’s never seen the world.”
“Maybe she has a point; the rain is heavy today.”
The young students, actually Bella’s peers, now treated her as an exciting topic, discussing her warmly.
Divided, the supportive boys suggested caution, while the mocking and sarcastic remarks came from the girls. However, seeing the girls’ attitudes, most boys who initially supported Bella’s warnings soon switched sides.
“I’m not joking, ma’am. I have a terrible feeling about this plane,” the female teacher cut off Bella’s words.
The teacher spoke condescendingly, “Miss, I suggest you see a doctor. You’re young, and some diseases should be treated early. It’s alright, let’s move on, everyone!”
The female teacher called the students to board, and Bella’s warnings were forgotten as the forty men and women were already discussing their upcoming journey.
Bella sighed deeply, her heart in turmoil. Did she remember wrong? Would getting involved cause trouble? Could she handle both societal and extraordinary troubles on her own?
Did the fate of these Americans concern her? But then she resolved that it wasn’t about America but humanity.
Looking at the elderly with their gray hair and babies held by their mothers, the sliver of justice in Bella’s heart prevailed. In her view, the chance of this plane crashing was over ninety percent; she couldn’t just watch people march to their doom.
She urged the passengers, pleading with everyone not to board this plane.
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