Who Voiced The Lead Pilot In The Plane Cartoon Series?

Travis "Punch" Mitchell is not just any wolf shifter. He should absolutely be illegal, everything about him is sculpted by the goddess herself. He is the lead enforcer of the Flying Death, one of the most deadly and notorious packs there is. Alpha Axel "Dozer" Dennison adopted him and knew immediately that Punch was no ordinary pup. It takes a killer to know a killer. As fate would have it, Alpha Dozer has a beautiful daughter nobody dares to go near. Punch however, is already closer than anyone else to the female. They are in a constant tit for tat with each other, neither ever winning and always walking away frustrated with the other. He's a lot of bark, but no bite when it comes to her. Hazel Dennison is a girl who knows what she wants but is extremely immature with how she gets it. Punch is not only her ultimate nemesis, he is her crush. Her dream mate who wants nothing to do with her. Little does she know he's the female he loves to hate. When she takes matters into her own hands and dates another Alpha's son, Punch can't just sit back. Unfortunately for him, pack business interferes in his love life and everything goes upside down. Excerpt: I find myself leaning against the wall by his room, grateful my parents’ room is downstairs. "Go to bed,” I hear, barely above a whisper. "No,” I say, defiantly, turning to face his door. Either he sensed my heartbeat out here or he smelled me. Maybe both. I can’t wait to have my wolf. This sucks. He needs to know I’m not backing down. I’m not a dumb pup, I more than know what I want. Him. However I can get him.

During a holiday, I returned to my hometown to visit my family. My family’s private jet was under maintenance. The newly hired housekeeper mistakenly booked an economy-class ticket. While I was boarding, I ran into my first love, Brooke Smith, and her new boyfriend, Simon Xanders. They mocked me for flying in economy class. They laughed at me for being a country bumpkin heading to Nework. I ignored them. Then, I accidentally discovered the pilot, Lucas Wallace’s secret. His wife had been cheating on him. It turned out he had been raising another man’s child for over a decade. He wanted to take the entire plane down with him. I knew how to fly a plane. I urged everyone to subdue the pilot and let me make an emergency landing. Yet they mocked and humiliated me relentlessly. Then, the plane plunged sharply toward the ground. Only then did they finally panic.

My dad is the youngest ace pilot in the country. He's equipped with extremely stellar piloting skills. But on the day my mom suffers from a sudden heart attack and desperately needs to transfer hospitals, he refuses to fly her out with the excuse that the weather is terrible. Later on, someone records Dad flying a private jet just to scatter flower petals from a high altitude on a sunny day in order to celebrate the birthday of another woman's daughter. Meanwhile, my mom ends up dying on the stretcher while waiting to be saved. He didn't even show up, right up until the burial. For the next 20 years, my uncle has to take on cab orders every night just to put me through flight school. The day I become the youngest chief examiner of the Federal Aviation Administration, an airline delivers to me the file of a piloting prodigy for a captain upgrade assessment. The CEO of the airline is present as the guarantor of said pilot candidate. He puts himself in a very humble position when he addresses me. "Mr. Lowe, this young woman is extremely talented. If you drop your signature now, she will become the youngest pilot ever." I flip through the candidate's piloting resume. When my eyes fall on the list of her family members and her emergency contact, I'm stunned for a moment. Then, I stare at the young woman's photo for a very long time. Finally, I close the file and state softly, "Sorry. I won't approve her evaluation."

"I… I can't hold it. I need to use the bathroom." The flight attendant in the interview slumps in her chair. Her face is twisted in pure agony. I've secretly fitted the chair with a vibrator, so the moment I press the switch, it jerks and rattles unpredictably. As I watch their faces turn red and their bodies tremble uncontrollably, a sense of supreme satisfaction washes over me. To my astonishment, one of the flight attendants hitches up her uniform skirt and insists I attend to her needs on the spot. …

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

On the flight home, the plane starts shaking violently. Certain I'm about to die, I call my husband, Rhys Callahan, to say my last words. He hangs up on me, and his auto-reply flashes on the screen. "Driving. On my way to pick up Daphne." I've taken 86 flights in our five years of marriage. Every time I'm about to land, I ask him to come get me, and every time, the answer is the same. "Daphne's getting in too. I have to pick her up." He picks up Daphne Langston all 86 times. The lowest point comes during a rainstorm. I drag my suitcase through the downpour outside the terminal for two hours, unable to get a ride. When I call him, Daphne's voice comes through, laughing. "Oh, Rhys is helping me with my luggage right now. He can't come to the phone." Now the cabin fills with screaming and sobbing. The plane spirals out of control at cruising altitude, the left wing shearing away as flames light up the windows. My phone buzzes with a message from him. "Just picked Daphne up. What time do you land? I'll come get you." I stare at the screen and let out a bitter laugh. After five years, he's finally offering to pick me up. But fire swallows the plane as it plunges toward the ground. He doesn't know I'm no longer coming home.