The Heights - Post 9
The plane landed in a vast expanse of grassland, so far in every direction it seemed that it went around the world and came back to this one spot. Death released the stick and unbuckled his belt.
Before getting up, he turned his head to check behind him. Flicker was reclined on his back, hands behind his head, feet pulled back so that his legs arched up, sleeping. Fugu sat cross-legged, staring right at Flicker.
“Wait here,” Death said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Fugu nodded, and Death got up and exited the airplane. The hot air hit him instantly - it was like stepping into a hair dryer. He squinted his eyes to shield them from the dry wind, and to start looking around for the last horseman. Horsewoman? It’s going to be different having a chick on board.
The wind brought him a familiar sent - St. John Allerdyce. A lifetime ago, he had fought this man when he was called Pyro and Death was called Wolverine. Small world. And small spaces left few hiding places.
Where there’s fire…Death started to follow the scent across the grassland. It was as though, after 45 minutes of walking in the dry heat, nothing had changed; the trees were in the same place, the animals hadn’t really moved. Until all of the sudden, there was a shack, with smoke coming out of it. Not funny, Johnny. The girl’s got bigger places to be than under you.
He approached the shack and sniffed the air - she was here. So was he. Something was cooking too, smelled good. It had been a while since he had been in Africa, he missed the food. But not the weather.
He walked up to a door - the door, he figured. This building didn’t look like it needed two exits - and knocked. It swung open.
“Hello, Pyro.”
He chuckled. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone by that name, Wolverine. Or is it Logan? Or James? Or what nowadays?”
”Forget it. Where’s the girl?”
Pyro looked him up and down. Suddenly, he was on pins and needles. “How do you know about Claire.”
”Enough to know her name isn’t Claire. Cut the games, Pyro, I’m here to take her. Move or be moved.” The familiar sound of metal being brought out from its scabbard came from his fists.
Pyro didn’t flinch. Instead, he made a show of taking out a cigarette, sticking it his mouth, and pulling out a lighter. Slowly, deliberately, he held the flame up to his mouth, and just before putting it out, Death thought that he saw it spark up just a little too much to be natural. “Are you sure about that, furball?”
A voice came from the back of the shack. “John? Is there someone at the door?”
Death just raised one eyebrow. Pyro’s cigarette burnt out in an instant, dropping in ashes to the ground.
The Baxter Building was originally built not only to house the numerous facilities that the Fantastic Four needed, but also to ensure the security of the highest levels. In that regard, the stairs between each floor were placed in opposite corners of the building, so as to force any intruders to walk not only up every floor but also across it, and only those that had the belts that the Fantastic Four wore could access the elevators. These belts would shoot out identification lasers at waist level into receptors located at the elevator on every floor. Sinister did not have one of these belts. It was making his escape rather difficult, as for ever floor he had to navigate, dodging automated defense systems, kicking down doors, and avoiding debris, the sentinels above could simply punch through the grown and lower themselves to the next floor.
He had already gone down 12 flights of stairs before he realized what he was doing wrong. He stopped, turned around, and fired telekinetic bolts from his hands as hard as he could. The looming sentinel dropped to the ground - 3 stories below. Sinister ran towards the hole now in front of him and jumped without thinking.
And so the process went, take down a sentinel, drop a few flights, take down a sentinel, drop a few flights. Faster, but still a long process given a building of over a hundred flights. But Nimrod never showed up. Master Mold never tried anything - Sinister doubted the thing could move - and he had handled a few sentinels in his day. Nothing to it.
To Sinister, it took days to exit the building. But he did it. As he got out, he looked up to see what he had achieved. But not for long. They would be after him - leaving a building was just leaving a building. Now to check out his accomplishments elsewhere. Sinister chuckled - fools were those who thought they could stop his plans just by keeping him in prison. He ran over to a manhole and opened it. Holding his breath, he put his feet in, and started the descent.
“BASTION! AWAKEN THE SLEEPERS.”
The command to Bastion came directly from Master Mold. And what Master Mold commanded, Bastion complied. As it looked in the mirror, Bastion saw a human face. A human body. Human eyes that reflected human emotion. Just like those thousands of human bodies living in the area immediately around the internment camp. Thousands of human bodies that housed anything but humans.
Bastion bent its head back, as though looking at the ceiling. Those human eyes glazed over, not looking at anything, looking inside, looking at circuits, looking at waves, communicating with those human bodies in the area. It did not need the electronic confirmation to know that the sleepers had been activated. It heard the roofs of buildings across the city being destroyed.
It looked out the window and saw sentinels, one after the other, shooting through the ceilings of New York lofts. The sleepers were like Bastion - human/sentinel hybrids. Able to shed their skin and take to the skies to fight for the human cause. And now there were over 3,000 more surrounding the New York internment camp.
“BASTION! THERE ARE SEVERAL MUTANTS ESCAPING IN AN AIRPLANE TOWARDS UPSTATE NEW YORK. RECAPTURE THEM.”
And with that, Bastion sent over one hundred of the sentinels in the direction of the plane. It was a matter of minutes before they reported tracking coordinates. They had found their prey.
Raucous was getting frustrated with the search. They were circling around New York City, Emma had refused to enter for fear of detection by the sentinels. And they weren’t getting anywhere.
“Just go into the city!”
“No. It’s too risky. Do you see those fires?”
“That’s probably them! If Forge dies, then one camp is free and the rest are doomed! Go!”
”Sit down, Raucous.”
Suddenly, the blackbird whizzed by them from the direction of the city. Emma and Raucous looked at each other.
“Follow it!” He shouted. She had already started before he told her to. The jet turned steeply, and Raucous regretted not taking Emma’s advice. He flung to the side of the jet and his back spasmed as he hit the wall. “Ow.”
After he got his footing back, he walked over and hunched down above Emma. “Emma, can you scan the plane to see who’s on board?”
”Sure.” She closed her eyes - dangerous, considering she was the pilot. But he had learned to start trusting her, at least a little. “Forge is on board.”
”Whew.”
”So are Beast and Alchem. And…Betsy Braddock?...”
”Hah! Small world! Lets grab her, too, and have a little family reunion back at her manor.”
”…And two others I don’t know. And…oh shit. How did I not see it? RAUCOUS BEHIND YOU!”
Raucous whipped around to see the back of the cabin turning a now familiar black, illuminated only by yellow symbols. And Douglock was fast approaching the cockpit.
Before getting up, he turned his head to check behind him. Flicker was reclined on his back, hands behind his head, feet pulled back so that his legs arched up, sleeping. Fugu sat cross-legged, staring right at Flicker.
“Wait here,” Death said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Fugu nodded, and Death got up and exited the airplane. The hot air hit him instantly - it was like stepping into a hair dryer. He squinted his eyes to shield them from the dry wind, and to start looking around for the last horseman. Horsewoman? It’s going to be different having a chick on board.
The wind brought him a familiar sent - St. John Allerdyce. A lifetime ago, he had fought this man when he was called Pyro and Death was called Wolverine. Small world. And small spaces left few hiding places.
Where there’s fire…Death started to follow the scent across the grassland. It was as though, after 45 minutes of walking in the dry heat, nothing had changed; the trees were in the same place, the animals hadn’t really moved. Until all of the sudden, there was a shack, with smoke coming out of it. Not funny, Johnny. The girl’s got bigger places to be than under you.
He approached the shack and sniffed the air - she was here. So was he. Something was cooking too, smelled good. It had been a while since he had been in Africa, he missed the food. But not the weather.
He walked up to a door - the door, he figured. This building didn’t look like it needed two exits - and knocked. It swung open.
“Hello, Pyro.”
He chuckled. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone by that name, Wolverine. Or is it Logan? Or James? Or what nowadays?”
”Forget it. Where’s the girl?”
Pyro looked him up and down. Suddenly, he was on pins and needles. “How do you know about Claire.”
”Enough to know her name isn’t Claire. Cut the games, Pyro, I’m here to take her. Move or be moved.” The familiar sound of metal being brought out from its scabbard came from his fists.
Pyro didn’t flinch. Instead, he made a show of taking out a cigarette, sticking it his mouth, and pulling out a lighter. Slowly, deliberately, he held the flame up to his mouth, and just before putting it out, Death thought that he saw it spark up just a little too much to be natural. “Are you sure about that, furball?”
A voice came from the back of the shack. “John? Is there someone at the door?”
Death just raised one eyebrow. Pyro’s cigarette burnt out in an instant, dropping in ashes to the ground.
The Baxter Building was originally built not only to house the numerous facilities that the Fantastic Four needed, but also to ensure the security of the highest levels. In that regard, the stairs between each floor were placed in opposite corners of the building, so as to force any intruders to walk not only up every floor but also across it, and only those that had the belts that the Fantastic Four wore could access the elevators. These belts would shoot out identification lasers at waist level into receptors located at the elevator on every floor. Sinister did not have one of these belts. It was making his escape rather difficult, as for ever floor he had to navigate, dodging automated defense systems, kicking down doors, and avoiding debris, the sentinels above could simply punch through the grown and lower themselves to the next floor.
He had already gone down 12 flights of stairs before he realized what he was doing wrong. He stopped, turned around, and fired telekinetic bolts from his hands as hard as he could. The looming sentinel dropped to the ground - 3 stories below. Sinister ran towards the hole now in front of him and jumped without thinking.
And so the process went, take down a sentinel, drop a few flights, take down a sentinel, drop a few flights. Faster, but still a long process given a building of over a hundred flights. But Nimrod never showed up. Master Mold never tried anything - Sinister doubted the thing could move - and he had handled a few sentinels in his day. Nothing to it.
To Sinister, it took days to exit the building. But he did it. As he got out, he looked up to see what he had achieved. But not for long. They would be after him - leaving a building was just leaving a building. Now to check out his accomplishments elsewhere. Sinister chuckled - fools were those who thought they could stop his plans just by keeping him in prison. He ran over to a manhole and opened it. Holding his breath, he put his feet in, and started the descent.
“BASTION! AWAKEN THE SLEEPERS.”
The command to Bastion came directly from Master Mold. And what Master Mold commanded, Bastion complied. As it looked in the mirror, Bastion saw a human face. A human body. Human eyes that reflected human emotion. Just like those thousands of human bodies living in the area immediately around the internment camp. Thousands of human bodies that housed anything but humans.
Bastion bent its head back, as though looking at the ceiling. Those human eyes glazed over, not looking at anything, looking inside, looking at circuits, looking at waves, communicating with those human bodies in the area. It did not need the electronic confirmation to know that the sleepers had been activated. It heard the roofs of buildings across the city being destroyed.
It looked out the window and saw sentinels, one after the other, shooting through the ceilings of New York lofts. The sleepers were like Bastion - human/sentinel hybrids. Able to shed their skin and take to the skies to fight for the human cause. And now there were over 3,000 more surrounding the New York internment camp.
“BASTION! THERE ARE SEVERAL MUTANTS ESCAPING IN AN AIRPLANE TOWARDS UPSTATE NEW YORK. RECAPTURE THEM.”
And with that, Bastion sent over one hundred of the sentinels in the direction of the plane. It was a matter of minutes before they reported tracking coordinates. They had found their prey.
Raucous was getting frustrated with the search. They were circling around New York City, Emma had refused to enter for fear of detection by the sentinels. And they weren’t getting anywhere.
“Just go into the city!”
“No. It’s too risky. Do you see those fires?”
“That’s probably them! If Forge dies, then one camp is free and the rest are doomed! Go!”
”Sit down, Raucous.”
Suddenly, the blackbird whizzed by them from the direction of the city. Emma and Raucous looked at each other.
“Follow it!” He shouted. She had already started before he told her to. The jet turned steeply, and Raucous regretted not taking Emma’s advice. He flung to the side of the jet and his back spasmed as he hit the wall. “Ow.”
After he got his footing back, he walked over and hunched down above Emma. “Emma, can you scan the plane to see who’s on board?”
”Sure.” She closed her eyes - dangerous, considering she was the pilot. But he had learned to start trusting her, at least a little. “Forge is on board.”
”Whew.”
”So are Beast and Alchem. And…Betsy Braddock?...”
”Hah! Small world! Lets grab her, too, and have a little family reunion back at her manor.”
”…And two others I don’t know. And…oh shit. How did I not see it? RAUCOUS BEHIND YOU!”
Raucous whipped around to see the back of the cabin turning a now familiar black, illuminated only by yellow symbols. And Douglock was fast approaching the cockpit.