Element
I've made 25 posts
33 years.
Casket
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Post by Plymouth Weir on Jan 14, 2018 11:51:15 GMT -6
 JANUARY - 2020
 Nestling into the warmth of the booth’s worn red vinyl, Diana Prince’s sapphire gaze swept across the icy street, harsh as the winter wind whipping outside the window. Cold air rushed into the diner as the door swung open, the lazy chime of tarnished bells announcing the customer’s arrival. A large man, broad of shoulder stomped the snow from his boots as sharp blue eyes quickly scanned the establishment before moving toward the booth by the front window occupied by the tall, raven haired woman.
“I’m with her.” He notified the approaching server, a broad friendly smile stretching his tawny beard.
‘Of course you are’, said the woman’s eyes as she trailed behind, coffee pot in hand.
As the waitress promptly filled the flipped coffee cup, the handsome man smiled a thanks and accepted the menu she offered. “Today’s special’s a Denver.”
“It’s good to see you again, Steve.” Diana bid, leaning forward.
“If I’d a known Canada was gonna be this cold I might’ve taken you up on the offer to meet you in the Watchtower.” The Captain joked.
“It’s not so bad.” She mused, realizing the super soldier was probably as resilient as she against the cold. Always keeping up appearances, part of a secret identity. Even Captain America had to keep his head down these days.
Slipping his thick arms out of his jacket, Steve studied the nostalgic photos on the walls highlighting the diner’s first decade after opening in 1975. A missed chunk of history for the ‘man out of time’ but only yesterday for the ageless Amazon who had sat in the same very booth all those years ago.
“Simpler times.” She mentioned, “Ford was President, Pierre Trudeau Prime Minister.”
“Yeah, I read about it. But I don’t think you invited me up here for a walk down memory lane.” Steven cut to the chase.
——————
“That’s him!” Atticus hissed through clenched teeth, “Jesus Christ you’re the one with the heightened sight.”
Plymouth sighed and reluctantly glanced up and over his partner’s thick shoulder, normally violet eyes hidden behind blue contact lenses focusing on the bearded man seated in the far corner of the establishment. He focused only for a split second, eyes falling back to his plate of steak and eggs, but it was all the time he needed to zero in on Steve Roger’s unmistakable profile.
“Yeah, it’s him.” Plymouth apathetically admitted as he shovelled a fork full of hash-browns into his mouth.
“You kidding me? ‘Yeah, it’s him’.” Atticus mocked in a hushed tone, eyes wide with excitement. “That’s Captain America.”
Plymouth just rolled his eyes and glared. Growing up in Brooklyn he was no stranger to Steve Rogers. Truth be known, he spotted him before he opened the door, but he knew then as he knew now, that if Captain America was meeting someone up here it’s because he was trying to keep a low profile. Not that he believed Atticus would do anything stupid, the guy was Canadian and like all of them, were very respectful of people’s privacy. Damn, if he didn’t look like a kid in a candy store, though.
“Who do you think that is with him?” Atticus wondered.
Plymouth shook his head. He didn’t recognize the dark haired woman. Glasses, hair pulled back into a conservative pony tail, academic type, but from her size and build chances were she was like them.
“Maybe a Meta.” he indulged then chastised, “Would you act your age.”
“That’s ageism.” Atticus accused, grinning, who despite not looking a day over twenty-seven, maybe thirty, was near eighty years old. “Don’t you think this an amazing coincidence?”
Plymouth countered with a, “Nothing more.”
Atticus was trying to connect dots on different pages. Who wouldn’t want to wind up on the radar of the great Captain America? The reality was that their investigation and Steve Roger’s business had absolutely nothing to do with the other, but the fact that he was up in Canada was intriguing.
Captain America had become the embodiment of the ‘Resistance’, a political movement in America directly opposing the corruption of the usurping President Luthor. The government had been hijacked by what could best be described as a Nazi Regime under the guise of populism, inspiring a strong minority of the country’s populace. Superheroes had been virtually rendered powerless under the regime as many of them, like Tony Stark were fully onboard with turning vigilante organization into government controlled anti-terrorist teams. To these ‘sell-outs’ and ‘Luthor-Loyalists’, Captain America was a traitor but after being pardoned by the previous president as a final act of resisting the impending doom that was befalling the country, Steve Rogers was a free man. A stainless symbol for those who still saw Luthor for what he was, a two-bit dictating con-man remaking America in his own image and that of Brandt Dietrich, Luthor’s ‘propaganda minister’. The German born nationalist personified Nazi-culture but all Luthor’s followers could see was patriotism and the empowerment of America.
“So what d’ya think?” Atticus prodded, but Plymouth wasn’t enticed, not even a little.
“Focus on the mission, man.” |
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Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on Jan 31, 2018 0:18:24 GMT -6
Atticus hated when Plymouth was right. The two legends were indeed, none of their concern; if their paths happened to cross than so-be-it. Right now their own mission had priority: tracing back the source material of a suspicious shipment they’d come across while dealing with the Reavers. Casket had caught wind of a deal going down in the shipping yard with the particularly unsavoury group of cybernetically enhanced thugs. They were trying to scavenge some tech for further upgrades which the two heroes had mistaken for weapons. An honest mistake given the company, also probably why they gave up the goods and bugged out without much of a fuss. Turned out, though, that closer inspection of the prototype scraps would reveal something very sinister, something the X-Men would be very interested in, if it meant what they both thought. They needed proof to confirm their theory and so they began to trace the shipment back to it’s source, landing them on the other side of the continent bound for Williams Lake.
“Looks like it’s about six or so hours to Williams Lake.” Atticus mentioned, checking a map on his phone. “You sure we’re gonna find what we’re looking for up there?”
He’d been up there before, many years back, and it hadn’t changed much. A typical mountain town, scenic, a steady influx of tourism, great trails. Not much along the lines of a high-tech manufacturing plant, but then Plymouth didn’t think for a second that it was the origin point, just part of the trail.
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Element
I've made 25 posts
33 years.
Casket
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Post by Plymouth Weir on Feb 4, 2018 1:08:04 GMT -6
Atticus wouldn’t get his answer. Plymouth honestly didn’t know what they’d find up there, he just knew they had see this through, and that’s exactly what they were going to do. He was aware that Rogers and the woman whom he’d recognized as the one and only Wonder Woman were watching them as they exited. It was kinda hard to go unnoticed when Atticus was acting like a fan-boy. Specifically the reason he didn’t tell him who the woman was. All hell probably would of broke loose, and he didn’t need the aggravation. He’d had a bad feeling since they arrived in Vancouver, like they were being watched, but for life of him he couldn’t pick up on anyone or anything tailing them. He wasn’t about to chalk it up to paranoia, he trusted his instincts, and needed to stay on his toes; not worry about getting their asses handed to them by a couple of ‘A-List’ superheroes.
As Atticus drove, Plymouth leaned back in the seat and stared out the window, marvelling at the seemingness endless landscape of coniferous forest and majestic mountain ranges. “Beautiful country.” he commented.
“So this is home?” he mentioned, making small talk. He recalled that Atticus had grown up in Vancouver, but he never talked about it, nor had been itching to play tour guide. Of course it was a long time ago, Plymouth had to constantly remind himself of his partner’s actual age, which was damn hard considering how childish the guy could act.
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Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on Feb 21, 2018 15:58:31 GMT -6
Atticus nodded, “Yeah, sorta. I mean, used t’ spend a lotta time camping up here. Riding the trails, climbing, skiing, y’know, the usual stuff.” Ages ago it seemed, longer than most others anyway. He could feel it again, that strange haunting loneliness. It was as if the reality of his time passing poked at his empty grave.
He fell into a disquieting silence, eyes focused on the road. The world was a different place, obviously ‘The Fold’ had something to do with that, but for Atticus it was more about time itself, the culmination of life experiences trying to make sense of it all from the perspective of youthful vision. There were few he talk to about it, none for him personally. Even if he could explain to Plymouth that his behaviour most of the time was merely his impression of youth he wouldn’t get it, rather he didn’t have faith that he would.
His eyes drawn upward to the grey skyline by the movement of what appeared to be a bird ended up being a streaking humanoid form. He couldn’t make it out who it was, so he waited for Plymouth to fill in the blank. Not much made it past his eyes.
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Element
I've made 25 posts
33 years.
Casket
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Post by Plymouth Weir on Feb 24, 2018 18:57:10 GMT -6
“Yeah, the ’usual stuff’.” Plymouth chuckled, “Sorry, I didn’t grow up with mountains in my backyard, or the money to get to ‘em.”
Easing back in the seat, Plymouth’s keen eyes caught sight of the superhuman flying by. The flowing red cape, the blue of the uniform got his hopes up, but it wasn’t Superman. The blonde hair gave it way.
“Thor.” he announced apathetically, not too jazzed on the exploits of the outworlder superhero.
“Not a fan?” Atticus questioned
Plymouth shook his head. “I dunno. Never liked the guy much, guess he’s okay. Sorry for that, y’know, considering you’ve modelled your look after him and all.” he joked.
As the rumble of a shared laugh settle into road noise, Plymouth closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Waking up a few hours later to take a shift driving while Atticus nodded off. It was the middle of the night by the time they reached William’s Lake, the two weary travellers pulling into a campground and catching a few more hours of sleep. Atticus sprawled out in the back while Plymouth reclined in the passenger seat. It was a horrible sleep, both of them waking up at dawn and getting an early start to the day.
First thing they did was locate they original shipping address. A local courier, that doubled as a pizza delivery service. Obviously they weren’t manufacturing giant robots, they couldn’t even handle shipments that size. Plymouth had expected the trail to run cold, but he had little doubt that whomever used ‘Kario-Mart Courier’ as a front wasn’t that far away.
It was midday, while the two were trying out the cuisine of one the local burger joints that he noticed some military looking vehicles driving down the main drag. Atticus assured him that logos on the side doors weren’t government and after a few inquires they learned that a private military organization based out of the States existed up in the mountains to the north.
“They turned up about a year ago.” A local mountain biker told them. “The base is on White Tooth mountain, but you can’t get within twenty kilometres of the place. We avoid it like the plague. There’s one road in and it’s crawling with guards. Seriously bad ass dudes. Telling ya man, it’s like Nazi Germany up there.”
That was good enough for Plymouth. “Up for a hike?”
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Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on Mar 2, 2018 23:30:48 GMT -6
They’d moved to a rustic cabin north of town, popular lodgings for cross country skiers who liked to hit the trails right out of the door. Expensive, but then money wasn’t much of an object for Atticus. The quaint two bedroom cabin would serve as adequate base and launch point for their mission.
A white winter coat and a backpack thrown over his costume gave the illusion that Atticus was wearing some kind of trendy technical gear. All he was missing was the country skis or the snow shoes. An unusual amount of snow had made the trails just about impassible for anything else but, but Atticus and Plymouth pressed on with relative ease. Dressed in his usual grey trench coat, like himself, Plymouth did not suffer the cold. For different reasons both were resilient against the element and didn’t really require any winter clothing.
They had set out that afternoon and two hours later the sun was starting to get low. By the time they reached the mountain they’d be well under the cover of darkness. Thus far, Atticus had enjoyed the hike, his powerful legs ploughing through the deep snow. It was quite the work-out, his muscles were starting to feel it, as were Plymouth’s as far as he could tell. The guy was hard to read, his expression rarely changing.
“Let’s stop up there on that ridge.” Atticus pointed up to a flat terrace topped with a dense covering of evergreens.
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Element
I've made 25 posts
33 years.
Casket
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Post by Plymouth Weir on Mar 2, 2018 23:33:36 GMT -6
Plymouth agreed. He needed some water and felt a little peckish and the ridge offered great cover and the ability to see anyone coming up behind them.
Slinging off their packs and sitting down on a large frozen log, the two men drank from their water bottles and munched on some energy bars.
“Another couple of hours?” Plymouth figured, glancing over his shoulder at their destination rising up in the distance.
“Three and a bit.” Atticus corrected, speaking from experience.
Plymouth nodded, removing his concealing his rose tinted sunglasses, his vivid violet eyes searching the skies for any anomalous movement, like drones.
Tucking his glasses into a side pocket of his backpack, Plymouth suddenly froze, his trained hearing detecting an unusual snap in the woods to the east. Might have been a ram he considered, they were all over this area, but just to be safe he pulled up his mask to conceal his face, slowly slinking down behind the cover of the fallen tree.
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Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on Apr 1, 2018 16:52:52 GMT -6
Atticus instinctively mimicked Plymouth’s reaction, ducking down behind the tree, then he felt it, a disturbance in the air around them, a sudden rush. There was no time for words, striking Casket in the shoulder, pushing him out of the way as six gleaming claw-like knives burst through the tree.
As the wood exploded around them, Atticus’ physical form vanished before the deadly blades could rip him apart, but the savage assault didn’t stop. The owner of the trademark weaponry, ‘The Wolverine’, followed the scent.
As the razor sharp admantium knives sliced through his non-corporal body, Atticus’ ghostly form was tossed and turned. As an elemental of the air he was at the mercy of it’s nature, like swimming underwater in a strong current. He’d eventually have to come up for air and when he did, those claws would slice right through him. His only chance was to get some distance, but Wolverine was like a ravenous hound. He was able to pinpoint his precise location by scent alone, that and the fact that he had to exert kinetic energy to ‘swim’ through the air made his ghostly image momentarily visible.
Finally, mustering his strength, Atticus was able to orient himself, building up enough energy to force himself upward. He caught a northerly gust, taking him up into the tree tops, well out of danger, where he materialized, his lungs taking a welcome breath.
‘What the hell was wrong with him?’ Atticus pondered.
Wolverine was known for his savagery in battle, but he was going berserk. Something was wrong with him, unfortunately there was little time to figure it out. Now that Atticus was no longer a viable target, the vicious little man turned his attention to Plymouth.
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Element
I've made 25 posts
33 years.
Casket
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Post by Plymouth Weir on Apr 1, 2018 17:20:44 GMT -6
As Plymouth slid through the snow and out of harms way he watched in disbelief as the one and only Wolverine pursued his ghostly quarry. His attacks were reactive, completely wild, as if something was turning him savage.
‘What the hell was he doing out here?’ The answer came as quickly as Plymouth thought it. He was probably out here investigating the same damn thing they were, only he definitely found something.
Springing up, feet sinking in the deep snow, Casket considered how to handle this situation. ‘This was a freaking X-Man! A legend!’ Logan wasn’t going to go down easy, but was that even a prudent battle plan?
As Atticus appeared overhead and Wolverine’s maniacal gaze fell on him, Plymouth’s first reaction was to try to get through him.
“Easy, man!” he shouted, holding his hands up. “We’re not your enemy.”
Wolverine pounced like a rabid wolf.
“SHIT!” Casket rolled to the left, just under a decapitating right, Logan’s claws cleanly cutting through a young frozen tree like it was made of jello. He was on his opponent before the tree even began to teeter, Plymouth could feel it. Throwing out his right arm his whip appeared in his grasp in glowing flash, the silvery tendril lashing out and snagging hold of a tree. As Wolverine bore down upon him, the whip retracted pulling him out of harm’s way and sling-shotting Casket into the air, and down the side of snowy ridge.
Still, the maddened Wolverine pursued, ploughing through the snow, roaring and diving down toward, Casket, claws posed to eviscerate.
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Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on Apr 1, 2018 17:56:59 GMT -6
Atticus dove down, weaving through the trees and it was then that he saw it. Something fell off of Wolverine, it’s outline stark against the white of the snow unmistakable. ‘A dart!’ Suddenly it all made sense. ‘He was drugged.’ But from what Atticus knew about the Wolverine that wasn’t supposed to be possible, not with his insane regenerative factor. Then again, if the drug was strong enough it would take time for his system to flush it out, and who knew how many of those darts he had taken.
‘His adrenaline was probably intensifying the effects, working against his healing factor!’
Atticus knew what they had to do, but it wasn’t going to be easy or for that matter, safe. They had to subdue the Wolverine. Just thinking it sounded crazy, but what choice did they have? Plymouth couldn’t evade those claws forever and who knew when Wolverine was going snap out of it, or worst case scenario, he’d simply stay so pissed off he’d kill them both anyway.
It was the only way.
Gliding into the fray while Wolverine was in mid-flight, Atticus knew he would never get a better opportunity. He had to make it count, and so mustering all his strength in one powerful strike Atticus hit Wolverine in the side, his fist sinking into those unbreakable ribs as he let loose a stream of wind hurling Logan hard into the trunk of large tree. Snow blasted all around, a wall of white as Wolverine’s impact caused all the snow in the evergreen treen to rain down.
Hovering in next to Plymouth in the white-out, Atticus’s glowing eyes peered through it, Wolverine’s shadowy image etched in the airy world as seen by his elemental vision charging toward them!
“LOOK OUT!” Atticus warned, expertly ducking under Wolverine’s enraged swing, and grasping hold of the thick, stumpy arm.
Leaving himself prone to the deadly slash of Wolverine’s free arm, all Atticus could do was hope that Plymouth could stop him from being carved up like a Christmas goose.
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Element
I've made 25 posts
33 years.
Casket
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Post by Plymouth Weir on Apr 5, 2018 23:45:06 GMT -6
As the raging Wolverine burst out of the cascading snow, Plymouth lashed out with his whip, the metallic tendril wrapping around the other brawny arm. He and Atticus then collapsed on top of their attacker, incapacitating him in the deep snow while Logan raged on like a wild berserker.
“I think he’s drugged.” Atticus explained, “We need to pin him until he calms down, I think his adrenaline is over-stimulating what’s in his system.”
Made sense. Plymouth wasn’t doctor so he went with whatever Atticus instructed on the matter, the theory, however, only seemed to further enrage Wolverine. Then all at once he calmed down, simultaneous with the arrival of several men, all wearing the same uniform.
“You idiots.” Wolverine groaned.
Before they could react one of the soldiers levelling a large projectile weapon at them blasted a net at them… an electrified net.
Everything went black.
Plymouth’s eyes opened to the view of a cement ceiling with dim amber coloured lighting. He was lying on a cote in the middle of the room, across from him was Atticus’ large form, slowing rising from his bed. Adjacent was Wolverine, his mask still in tact, sat in contemplation with his chin resting on the fist of his burly arm. In fact all their masks hadn’t been removed, which in Wolverine’s case made sense. His name was well known, but they obviously didn’t care to know who Boreal and Casket were, not that they even knew who they were.
“What the hell?” Casket grunted, slowly rolling his head to crack out the kinks. “Where the hell are we? What is this place?”
“Damn, you’re a little slow on the uptake aren’t ya?” Growled Wolverine.
Plymouth forced himself him up and stormed toward the steel door to test it’s strength.
“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Wolverine warned.
Normally Casket would have ignored the warning but it quickly occurred to him that for some reason Wolverine hadn’t slashed through the doorway. ‘Was it too strong?’ No. He could see his signature claw marks in the door, only they didn’t penetrate very far. Then he detected the lingering scent of ozone and burnt hair.
“It’s electrified.” Casket figured.
“Bingo.” Wolverine cynically congratulated, “If ya don’t wanna wake up tomorrow with your finger prints singed off I’d stay away from the walls.”
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Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on Apr 5, 2018 23:51:37 GMT -6
“This is White Tooth Mountain?” Atticus verified.
Wolverine nodded. “You must be the brains of the outfit?” he jabbed, “If you two knuckleheads would’a lemme burn the drugs outta my system I’d be half way ta home, and reinforcements.”
Atticus bit his bottom lip. He hadn’t considered that there might have been drug out there that could have effected a mutant like Wolverine. He wondered what they hell they had.
“Sorry.” Atticus apologized, reaching out his hand as peace offering while introducing he and Plymouth, “I’m Boreal and this is Casket.”
“I don’t give two shits. All I care about if is any one of ya can get us the hell outta here.”
Atticus shook his head. His non-corporeal form would suffer just as much as his physical by being exposed to electricity. “What is here?” he inquired.
“You first.” Wolverine countered.
It wise on his part to be skeptical, Atticus didn’t blame him one bit and so he started from the beginning, on how he and Casket came across the curious robotic parts and tracked them. “We were actually going to inform the X-Men the moment we had proof to back-up our theory.”
“The theory that a bunch of assholes are making Sentinels? Yeah, that’s exactly what’s going on.” Logan confirmed, “This base is owned by A.I.M. and they’re using it to push the Sentinel agenda.”
“The Canadian government won’t stand for this.” Atticus pointed out.
“That’s why they’re only making the parts here and shipping them across the border for assembly. The manufacturing was made illegal in America but not Canada. They’re aiming to make a newer, more dependable killing machine to enforce the Registry.”
Atticus could only scowl in disbelief, not wanting to accept just how lax Canadian laws were becoming where weapons were concerned.
“Most of the parts are made in Alberta. Then they’re shipped here.” Wolverine added, sensing the big guy’s disillusionment.
At that, Atticus gave a nod. “Albermerica.” he sneered, “That makes sense. If there’s one province in Canada that’s in the pocket of rampant capitalism it’s them."
Wolverine scowled, growling, "Damn socialist." before turning his attention to Plymouth, "You got anything to add 'Bunny-eyes'?"
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Element
I've made 25 posts
33 years.
Casket
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Post by Plymouth Weir on Apr 15, 2018 1:03:56 GMT -6
Casket’s vividly violet eyes glared at the hairy little mutant. He’d heard stories of Wolverine. Who hadn’t? But until you experienced him first hand you just couldn’t appreciate just how much of an asshole the guy really was.
“How long does it take your teeth to grow back?” Plymouth growled.
“You’d be long dead.” Wolverine snorted.
“Jesus Christ! Both of you calm down!” Atticus interjected.
He’d always been the voice of reason. The turning of the other cheek, and he was right. This was neither the time or the place for a hot-headed disagreement, especially against a guy with knives for hands. They needed every hand on deck to get out of here despite what the ‘Lone Wolf’ thought.
“So what the hell can you guys do anyway?” Wolverine grumbled, “Boreal, that’s a wind thing ain’t it? And what, Casket here hangs around in grave yards?”
Casket flipped a middle finger.
Wolverine grinned. “I wasn’t so out of my tree I don’t remember what ‘Blondey’ here did. Figure the disappearing act won’t work ‘cause of the electrical field, right? So, we gotta knock that out. You got any tricks up your sleeve in that department?” Logan posed to the two unknown masks.
It was at that moment the door made a sound, a lot like the sound of a latch unlocking.
Wolverine sprang up. “That you?” he inquired of Casket who shook his head, wondering what kind of game their captures were playing at.
With little hesitation, Logan marched toward the door and tentatively touched the metal, then pushed it open suffering no electrocution. “What the hell?” The X-Man pondered.
Sharing a worried look with Atticus, they followed close behind Wolverine as he cautiously stepped through the door and into a dimly lit corridor.
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Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on May 6, 2018 13:57:02 GMT -6
Wolverine’s short brawny form lead the way at a fast pace, like Atticus, noting that the steel walled corridor curved inward like they were in a large circle.
“I don’t like this.” Logan grumbled, “Gettin’ the feeling like we’re rats in a maze.”
Atticus had to agree. The whole situation was very peculiar. The door seemed to open automatically, as if one a timer, and they were passing by other cell doors, each numbered. That’s when he stopped in his tracks.
“Logan wait.” he called out, the anxious mutant reluctantly sliding to a halt. “You’re just giving them what they want.”
“Don’t think I know that? It’s what I do kid. Cut to the chase.” That said, Wolverine charged on, round the bend and all Atticus and Plymouth could do was follow. Eventually they came to the exit, or entrance, didn’t much matter how one looked at it. It was the only way to go.
Beyond the portal spanned a massive room. The ceiling must have been a hundred feet and one couldn’t see the sides for the shadow. Basic instinct dictated danger, but neither Wolverine nor Plymouth being the type to wait around for the inevitable strode on in while Atticus hesitated. As he did there was a loud hydraulic hiss followed by the sound of turning gears and looking above he could see that the ceiling was slowly beginning to descend. ‘Encouragement for the reluctant rat’, he scowled.
Stepping into what Atticus could only assume now to be an arena of some sort the thick blast doors slowly closed behind him, an airtight seal pressurizing. His eyes immediately began to blaze blue as his sensitivity to air pressure swept through the vast expanse, every churn of the air mapping out the most minute details of the massive room.
“Do you see it?” He asked Plymouth, “A recess in the wall on the far side of the room, I estimate it to be about thirty feet wide and sixty feet tall.”
“That’s some door.” Wolverine assumed, “Anything else?” he asked sniffing the air.
Atticus could only read contours. “All the surfaces are smooth.” For more detail he turned to Plymouth, awaiting an account of his telescopic sight.
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Element
I've made 25 posts
33 years.
Casket
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Post by Plymouth Weir on May 6, 2018 14:00:54 GMT -6
He gestured to the black windows that were about eighty feet above them and flush with the walls. “They go around the entire room. Observation level.” Plymouth figured, his gaze falling to Wolverine as he scurried up ahead like a hound following a scent. After about fifty paces he squatted down, his gloved hands lightly stroking the floor, rubbing the black residue between his fingers.
“We wanna know what that is?” He asked, full well knowing what the charred remains were.
“Nope.” Answered Wolverine, a storm brewing in his dark gaze. He then quickly sprang to his feet, tilting his head up toward the windows. “Com’on already!” he roared, “Sooner we start this show, sooner I can get up there and cut your damn heads off!”
It was common knowledge that Wolverine was no stranger to illegal experimentation and that’s exactly what this was. This was a testing site, but they weren’t the subjects, they were the factor to be exterminated and as the massive door began to part, Plymouth didn’t need any guesses as to what would be coming through.
The compartment beyond the doorway was illuminated by a dim red glow, outlining the gargantuan silhouette of the fifty foot Sentinel as it awaited the doors to part. It then awoke, it’s blazing red eyes igniting, one thunderous footfall advancing it’s giant frame into the arena.
“You guys ever fought anything this big?” Wolverine calmly inquired.
Plymouth spoke for he and his stunned partner when he shook his head and it didn’t seem that Logan was much surprised. “Just do whatever the hell you guys do and don’t stop doing it.” he ordered. “Don’t give it a second to getta lock on ya.”
It was sound advice. Plymouth figured that Logan knew they’d be more aware of what he could do and adapt their style of combat for him. He was their heavy hitter. So long as he and Atticus could run interference there was a chance they could survive this.
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