He waited for the pilot to leave the cockpit, as he knew he would.

He waited for him to make idle chatter with the hostess in the corridor, as he knew he would.

He locked the door, sitting back down, waiting for the hushed knocking, with only a hint of panic in them, as he knew he would.

They had trained him for years for this moment, and he almost couldn't believe it was finally coming to a point. His entire life had been spent at the agency waiting for this this time, on this flight, doing what he does best, following orders to the letter. This was his time.

His entire life had been devoted to training; to be able to execute the plan flawlessly. He could tell you everything about that moment, and every possible deviation from the norm. Ask him how many molecules of caffeine were in the pilot's coffee that morning, he could tell you, and, based on the rate which he would drink it during the early part of the flight, he could tell you how long he would have to wait before the guy went to the bathroom. A plan of perfection. Naturally, it had to be.

The agency had looked through every quantum decision which could have ever been in this moment, and had decided, with absolute certainty that this would prevent the future from complete and total destruction. There was simply no other set of circumstances which could prevent it. You will not be a hero, they told him. But, you will save the world from atomic conflict, they told him. He would receive no medals for his bravery. He would not be loved by all. He would be hated. Despised even, but what are the lives of a few hundred innocents when compared with the rest of the world?

They sent him back, all the way back 32 years, to install regulations. Once airlines had realised what had actually happened on the flight, they would start to require there to be 2 people in the cabin at all times; for there to be procedures to get into the cabin regardless of whether or not someone wants to barricade themselves in there. This would prove very unfortunate for a group of terrorists down the line, oh, say about 12 years or so.

He put the plane into a nosedive. The checked the angle, as he had done in the simulations 1000's of times, ensuring that there would be no survivors. That was the angle to maximise the screaming. It was important that it was audible on the black box. As he closed his eyes, he regulated his breathing. This, too, was an important detail. They had to know it was purposeful. They needed to believe he was a psychopath. People needed to get scared the next time they stepped on a flight.

Finally, he thought. "The time has come." as the plane collided with the ground in a ball of flame.