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Regect had won the tickets by accident.
Which, frankly, was the most believable part of the entire situation.
Ze found out when Regect burst through the front door at full speed, arms flailing, phone held above his head like he’d just discovered fire.
“I WON,” Regect screamed.
Ze didn’t look up from the couch. “If this is another giveaway scam—”
“THREE. FREE. PLANE. TICKETS.”
Moe honked once. Questioning.
Regect spun the phone around.
WIN A WEEK AT THE BEACH! NO STRINGS ATTACHED!
Ze squinted. “That’s absolutely a lie.”
“Nope!” Regect said proudly. “It says congratulations! right here.”
The fine print was microscopic.
That alone should’ve been concerning.
The airport was painfully normal.
Just long polished stone floors and signs that pointed in slightly conflicting directions. The terminal echoed strangely, like every sound happened twice—once when it occurred, and once when the building decided to acknowledge it.
Ze didn’t like buildings that acknowledged him.
They checked in.
They passed security.
Nothing went wrong.
Which made Ze extremely nervous.
Their boarding passes were stamped with:
AIRCRAFT — FLIGHT 404
“That’s not a real flight number,” Ze muttered.
Regect shrugged. “Maybe they ran out.”
“That’s not how numbers work.”
“Sure it is. You just keep using them until you can’t.”
Moe honked skeptically.
The plane itself looked normal.
Suspiciously so.
The word AIRCRAFT was painted across the side in bold block letters, with smaller text underneath that read:
The Plane That Is Also Craft.
Ze slowed his walking. “…What does that mean, and why does it feel threatening.”
“It’s probably just branding,” Regect said confidently, despite knowing nothing about branding.
Moe honked in disagreement.
They boarded anyway.
Inside, the cabin smelled faintly like recycled air and something that used to be cheese. The seats were soft in a way that felt undeserved, like they hadn’t earned that level of comfort. The windows showed clouds that didn’t move.
The safety card depicted a smiling stick figure while the plane behind it was actively on fire.
Ze stared at it for a long moment.
“…Why is he smiling.”
“Optimism,” Regect said.
“That’s psychotic.”
Moe honked and buckled herself in immediately, tugging the belt tight like she didn’t trust the laws of physics anymore.
Regect kicked his seat experimentally.
It squeaked in protest.
“Plane’s alive,” Regect said cheerfully.
Ze closed his eyes. “I hate traveling.”
They took off smoothly, the ground dropping away beneath them. Ze gripped the armrests until the seatbelt sign turned off.
For five full minutes, nothing happened.
Which almost felt worse.
A flight attendant passed by offering food. The tray consisted of something beige in a plastic square.
Ze lifted the lid.
“…What is this supposed to be.”
Regect leaned over. “That looks like chicken.”
“That is not chicken.”
“It could’ve been chicken,” Regect offered.
Moe honked once and pushed her tray away with visible disgust.
Ze lowered his voice. “Why is everyone else chewing like that.”
Regect glanced around. A man three rows up was chewing with his mouth fully open, staring straight ahead like he’d dissociated mid-bite.
“I think that guy’s been eating the same mouthful since boarding.”
“That’s upsetting,” Ze muttered.
Two seats over, someone was already asleep and snoring at an impossible volume.
“Why do people become feral on planes,” Ze whispered.
“Enclosed tube psychology,” Regect said wisely. “Like a high school bus, but with more laws.”
Ze snorted despite himself.
They fell into quiet, the kind that wasn’t comfortable but wasn’t hostile either. Just… waiting. The hum of the engines, the rattle of the cabin, Moe lightly kicking Ze’s leg whenever turbulence bumped her seat.
Then Regect’s phone buzzed.
Ze’s eye twitched.
“…Why did I just hear a notification.”
Regect froze.
Slowly, he reached into his pocket.
“…Oh.”
Regect made a sound that made it painfully aware that he did, in fact, not turn on airplane mode.
Ze turned his head. “You didn’t.”
“I thought it was optional,” Regect said weakly.
The cabin lights flickered.
The plane lurched sharply to the left.
Moe honked in alarm, gripping the armrests.
The intercom crackled.
“Attention passengers— uh— we appear to be experiencing… interference.”
The turbulence worsened. Outside, the clouds rearranged themselves into question marks.
“PLEASE REMAIN CALM!” the voice continued, very clearly not calm.
Then the engines cut for half a second.
Everyone screamed.
Including Ze.
The cockpit door slid open on its own.
Smoke rolled out.
There were no pilots.
They were currently too busy parachuting down to safety, visible through the tiny aircraft windows as several panicked figures flailed past.
Only blinking lights remained.
A robotic voice echoed through the cabin, repeating itself.
SOMEONE HAS NOT TURNED ON AIRPLANE MODE.
Regect stood up slowly. “Okay, that feels personal.”
The plane dipped.
Ze grabbed him and shoved him forward. “FIX IT.”
Regect stumbled into the cockpit. The pilot’s chair spun toward him and locked into place.
“Oh,” Regect said softly. “I don't think that's normal.”
Ze and Moe rushed in behind him as alarms blared and the plane began descending.
Regect mashed buttons wildly. The dashboard changed languages, then colors, then turned into something that looked suspiciously like a video game tutorial.
OBJECTIVE: LAND THE AIRCRAFT
“WHY IS THIS GAMIFIED?!” Ze yelled.
Moe honked encouragements. Or possibly threats.
“I’M DOING MY BEST!” Regect yelled, gripping the controls.
“Do you even know the hell you are doing?!” Ze shouted.
“I’m trying not to hit any towers!” Regect yelled back.
“WHAT?!” Ze yelled, Moe's honk almost taking a human voice sound from stupor.
“IT WAS THE WRONG VENUE OK?!?” Regect screamed.
A voice shouted from the cabin behind them.
“How dare you. My family died that day!”
Ze went pale. “Oh god, in the attack?”
“No,” the passenger replied flatly. “It was unrelated.”
“WHY DID YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT—” Ze yelled before the plane dropped another fifty feet.
Somehow—against physics, logic, and common sense—the plane leveled out.
Below them, an island came into view: square sand, shimmering teal water, palm trees arranged in neat chunks like someone copy-pasted them.
The landing was bad.
But survivable.
The plane bounced once.
Twice.
Skidded violently.
Then stopped.
Silence filled the cabin.
Then cheering erupted. Someone cried. Someone kissed the floor.
Moe collapsed dramatically onto the floor.
Ze slid down the cockpit wall, shaking. “…We’re alive.”
Regect finally let go of the controls. “I never want to touch a phone again.”
His phone immediately buzzed.
With the reflexes of an iPad-loving kid, Regect picked it up instantly.
Ze slapped it out of his hand without hesitation.
They exited the plane in a daze, following the crowd across warm pixelated stone toward a small terminal that smelled faintly like sunscreen and wet sand. Everything felt unreal—like they’d skipped several steps of existence and landed directly at after.
Their hotel was close by, a tall sandstone building with blue glass windows and a lobby fountain that looped the same splash animation endlessly.
The room was small but clean. Two beds, a couch, one window, and a balcony overlooking the ocean.
They dropped their stuff and just stood there for a moment.
“…We should lie down for a bit.” Ze said.
After a few hours of doing absolutely nothing to recover from the flight, they collectively agreed to head outside while it was still early in the day.
The beach stretched wide and bright beneath the sun. The ocean sparkled. Waves looped gently against the shore. Villagers lounged beneath umbrellas made of slabs and carpets, sipping drinks labeled Coconut in blocky handwriting.
A sign near the sand read:
ENJOY YOUR STAY AT BLOCKSHORE BEACH
No refunds. No lifeguards available.
Moe honked happily and sprinted toward the water without hesitation.
Regect stretched proudly, looking out over the beach. “Worth it.”
Ze lifted his head just long enough to glare at him.
“If you ever win anything again,” he said, “I’m burning the ticket.”
The sun dipped low over Blockshore Beach, casting long square shadows across the sand.
And somehow—after everything—
they finally got their vacation.