Pluto - Above the Atlantic Ocean - Lone Wolf
"I'll take a Magnum of the 94 Veuve Clicquot, make certain that it is cold."
The slender blonde flight attendant silently walked away to fetch the order. Pluto sat back in his seat, his pale blue shirt contrasting against the crimson fabric of the luxury recliner. He was bored. Even in first class, nothing could save you from bad in flight entertainment, the internet signal was abysmal at best, and even the novelty of watching his Digimon wreak havoc was out of the question as he had no way to smuggle them through customs.
He pondered for a moment, wondering if they would be able to make it across the ocean themselves, the thought quickly erased from his mind. They were tools. He could always get more if they were to die. He could get more of anything he wished for; money, fine suits, homes. Indeed, the latter was the reason that he was trapped in this metal box high above the seas. He was flying out to complete the purchase on his new luxury home, just outside New York City. It never hurts to have too many places to live.
He probably could have travelled through the Digital World, but there's just something more satisfying about the wait. A new plaything is much more rewarding when you have to struggle through layers of wrapping. In this case, the wrapping was British Airways' First Class service, which was no more than adequate. The meal would be soon, another way to pass the time. Poached Quail's Egg with a Quail leg confit to start, a healthy side of Venison with vegetables for the main and rounded off by a Cheesecake Sorbet with a hot lemon jelly. Molecular gastronomy at its finest.