After getting over the
fence, sneaking past a couple of half sleep guards, weaving her way through the
shadows, dodging cameras, and popping five locks to get into the compound,
Storm began to find the entire endeavor embarrassingly easy. In fact, if she’d
chosen this line of work professionally, she’d have been insulted. Getting into
the F.O.H.’s stronghold had been child’s play.
She walked the compound
halls, all of them silent as death as if she owned the place and still not an
alarm was sounded, not a weapon was fired, and not a guard was the least aware.
But Storm wasn’t about to
allow her good fortune to make her sloppy. Moving on her toes her feet not
making a sound as she traversed several pathways, she kept both her eyes and
ears alert for the barest of movements. She kept her skin sensitive to any
shift in either the temperature or the wind. But mostly she kept her mind and
body primed for anything.
As the Goddess would have
it, she came upon a large door with only an electronic metal plate used to
access entry. On the door was a sign with words printed in dark red warning
against any unauthorized personnel. With the help of a magnet and a well placed
jolt of electricity, Storm had the door sliding open in minutes. As it opened
completely, Storm paused horrified at what she saw.
Lining two walls, standing
like the emissary of death himself covered in the eerie glow of red back up
lights, were what looked like at least three dozen newly assembled sentinels.
Besides a faint hum in the
air, all was quiet in the room. Storm stepped in noticing immediately that the
air was cool, neither hot nor cold. The machines were being kept comfortable,
she thought sarcastically. Not wanting anyone to know she was in the room,
Storm closed the door behind her. Walking a thin line, stepping cautiously, she
crossed the room slowly. Pulling the camera strap from around her neck, she
began to take pictures. Though, Charles Xavier could easily draw out what she
was seeing directly from her mind, the politicians he’d be fighting against to
shut down this project would need a little something more concrete e.g.
photographic evidence that there was indeed something stored within the
compound. If the X-men could get these pictures to the proper neutral
authorities, they could get the sentinels destroyed before they were launched
once again putting Trask’s mad inventions out of business.
Storm had went through two
rolls of film, shooting everything from the robots construction to the wiring
on the wall before she heard what sounded like foot falls coming from the door
she’d just entered. Looking to the ceiling, she saw that there was no getting
out by flight and as the room had no windows that wasn’t a likely escape route
either. By the Goddess, she couldn’t afford to get caught. She’d have one hell
of a time getting out of the building and off the grounds, but most importantly
she would be found out. By the time she had these pictures developed and
delivered, this facility would be relocated and the X-men would have to start
all over again. Only by the time they found the newly located facility, the
sentinels would be live and possibly operating, which meant big trouble for
mutants.
Wanting to swear... loudly
Storm opted to hide and wait out the intrusion. Getting as close to the door as
she could, she kneeled behind one of the machines large ankles and waited.
"Well, Mr. Rand, sir
we were kind of wondering about the machines. If you’ve got the darn things
workin’ yet," A thick voice said as two men opened the door and stepped
into the muted red lighting of the room. From the shadows, Storm was relieved
to see that they left the door open.
Walking towards a small
control pad tucked between two of the sentinels, the man called Rand began
pushing buttons and fingering switches. Storm wished she could see what the man
was doing, but more importantly she wanted to know the answer to the other
man’s question.
"When the time comes
for the Friends of Humanity to know if these ‘darn things’ are working, you
will be one of the first to know... Rex. But to answer your question more
directly, no, these sentinels are not functional as of yet."
Moving slowly on hands and
knees, Storm made her way to the door. When she heard what sounded like a large
amount of circuitry booting into commission, she didn’t bother to turn to see
what it was.
"These sentinels are
state of the art. Once activated they’ll require little maintenance and unlike
the last they will not return to home base when they are damaged. The F.O.H.
are paying a good price for their services and believe me Rex as long as you
keep your part of the bargain, this planet will be purged of all mutants by the
next millennium," Jonathan Rand proclaimed in a voice that held nothing
but promise.
To those words, Storm did
look back and that was when her image was placed and stored in the memory banks
of the one sentinel that Rand initiated.
Sliding along the wall,
Storm slipped out of the room with the two occupants none the wiser.
Storm didn’t stop till she
made her way back to the group of trees she’d been standing beside several
hours before. Slipping out of the dark clothes she’d been wearing revealing the
blue tee Storm added to the outfit a pair of jeans and a pair of double strap
sandals without a heel. Taking the dagger that was in her boot, she pushed it
through the waist band of her jeans in the back and pulled the tee over the
hilt. Releasing her hair, but securing it with the leather strip behind her
neck, she took the film out of the camera and slipped it into the bag beneath
her night clothes. On top of the clothes she replaced everything she’d earlier
taken from the bag. When all this was done, she unclipped the communicator from
her hip and laid it on top of the items in the bag deciding not to activate it as
she planned to come back for the bag in what she hoped was a matter of minutes.
Zipping it shut, she put the bag in the hole she’d dug previously. Recovering
the hole as best she could and covering it with grass, she managed to make the
spot appear untampered.
Rising to her feet, the
film less camera in her hand, she took one last look back at the facility
beyond the fence. She needed to get to a phone to contact, Scott or the
Professor. Once she contacted Scott, she could get back to the bag and head out
of the valley. But first she needed to get rid of the camera.
Calling upon a northerly
wind, Storm flew low within the trees heading in the direction of the town. The
breeding ground of closed minded glory seeking mutant haters.
*****
"It would appear, Mr.
Rex, that we have a complication," Rand commented several minutes after
Storm’s departure.
The big man calling himself
Rex stopped pacing and frowned at the other man. "Yeah, and what’s
that?" he asked surly.
Stepping aside, Jonathan
Rand waved Rex to the view screen he’d been tampering around. Rex obligingly
stepped forward. "It would appear Rex, that we’ve been found out,"
Rand finished.
Rex stared at the screen.
Flowing across it’s green surface was one repeated phrase and two pictures. One
of a figure snapping photos, the other simply the face of the woman intruder.
"Mutant Target Located... Requesting instruction to terminate."
"It would behoove you,
Mr. Rex to find the woman and the film she processes and bring both to me
immediately. I cannot emphasize enough, how bothersome to your cause, those
photos will be if placed in the proper hands. Oh, and if she refuses to come
peacefully, kill her, but make sure I have that film." Rand stated calmly.
Turning from the screen,
Rex strode purposely to the door. "Already there."
*****
At this time of the morning
the early AM’s, it wasn’t surprising that most of the town was shut down as the
owners of the grocery, hardware shop, and hotel facilities were probably
sleeping. Storm was left with little alternative but to enter a bar that
resembled closely a c rate saloon of an old western. It was the only place that
showed even the smallest amount of life. If luck was on her side, she’d find a
phone inside and be on her way in no time. The only draw back was that folks in
small towns tended to be very curious about strangers walking into their midst
and suspicious of those that walk in out of the night. As she stepped into the
smoke-filled room, almost all the male occupants turned their heads, and a
chorus of whistles quickly arose. Storm forgot to consider the fact that as an
attractive woman of her mid to late twenties she needed little else to attract
attention. Ignoring the calls, invitations and whistles, Storm sat down at one
of the tables close to the bar. Scanning the room on first entering she hadn’t
noticed a pay phone hanging on any of the walls nor a small phone at the edge
of the bar. Hoping that the bartender would be able to help her, she waited
patiently for him to approach.
"Mornin’, Miss,"
a tall man with thin brown hair greeted her. The man wore a thin white apron
around his waist and carried himself like a man who was used to being on his
feet. As he’d come from the direction of the bar, Storm could only assume he
was the bartender.
Pasting a polite smile on
her face, Storm greeted him in kind. "Good Morning."
"What’ll ya be
havin," he asked not unkindly.
"Actually, I had hoped
you would have a phone. My car has broken down just out of town and I wanted to
leave a message with a friend," she lied in her sweetest ‘you simply have
to believe me, because the explanation is just to thin it has to be true’
voice.
The tall man scratched his
head and looked at her with sympathy. "Well, that’s just unfortunate that
that happened. We’re somewhat in the middle of no where, you see. It’s gonna be
hard gettin’ any outside help up here. But as for the phone, yeah I got one in
the..." Before the man could tell Storm where the phone was a loud voice,
one she vaguely remembered interrupted him.
"Care for a bit of company,
lady?" A deep, harsh voice resounded from behind her back.
Storm noticed first that
the bartender took one look over her shoulder and backed away. The next thing
that she noticed was the tense silence of the room. The last thing she noticed,
recognized actually, was the speakers voice. It was the voice of the man
calling himself Rex.
For some reason, Storm knew
she wasn’t getting out of this situation without a fight. Her hand itched for
the dagger in the waist band of her jeans. "Thank you, but no," she
replied. The feel of the cold steel of a .44 Magnum barrel pressed against the
back of her neck made her slowly turn her head. The giant of a man, now almost
entirely wrapped in a worn, old orange trenchcoat, held the gun. His coal-black
eyes were locked with her own sky blue ones.
"Wrong answer,"
he sneered. Lining at his back were several other men either part of his group
or simply wanting to get in on what was happening. Waving the gun indicating
that Storm should rise to her feet, Rex gave her a disgusting once over.
"Now you come with me nice and easy like and my friends won't have ta hurt
ya... yet!" He said suggestively.
Storm didn’t have to be a
telepath to know what was on the man’s mind. If she found herself in his hands,
she’d definitely end up dead... eventually.
At the sound of the man’s
words, a rather numerous group of men and women stood up from their tables and
began surrounding Storm, pulling various archaic weapons and the occasional
firearm.
Rising slowly, pulling her
shirt discretely over her waistband, Storm faced the big man while trying to
keep an eye on the others in the room as well. There were just too many of
them. "Who are you?" she asked coldly of the man. Her mind was moving
overtime. If she could get back to her communicator and activate it, the X-men
would know something had gone wrong and come after her. But if she wasn’t able
to, they weren’t likely to interfere. Not even Xavier had expected her to find
and infiltrate the compound in a matter of hours. They wouldn’t be expecting
her back for several days at least.
"F.O.H., at your
service," he replied with a smile that was an almost perfect replica of a
wolf grin. Reaching into one of his pockets he pulled out a pair of silver
handcuffs. "I’m putting you under citizens arrest." He threatened
dangling the cuffs in front of the face, grinning.
"On what charge? Where
will you take me?" Storm asked stalling. If only she could make it to the
door. Fat chance of that as Rex blocked the way. But then there was a window...
"Now, you ask too many
question for the position in which you are! I suggest, mutant, that you come
along peacefully and bring that film with you. My boss happens to want the both
of you. And I plan to deliver," The man whispered suggestively. He then
gestured to two of the men standing behind her one of them to her immediate
left. They quickly moved to grab Storm's wrist.
"She's a cute one for
a mutie," said one of the thugs to his companion, who nodded in agreement.
"Yep. Maybe the boss could let us...have fun for a while before we deliver
her. What ya say, Rex?" To this most of the men in the room laughed, some
began adding obscene comments which provoked even more laughter.
Sensing a momentary
weakness in her opponents' defenses, Storm reacted immediately. With a graceful
and fluid movement she sent one of the two men holding her crashing head first
into a nearby table, and silenced the second with a powerful kick in the
stomach. Reaching back, she made an attempt on the dagger in her waist band. A
loud retort split the air. Storm jerked painfully when a bullet penetrated her
shoulder. Losing her balance, she fell backwards into the end of a table
sending the drinks on top of it crashing to the floor and a deck of cards
everywhere. For the barest of instances all went white then as her vision
returned she became conscious of the blood leaking from the hole in her
shoulder and of the pain in her side. The pain was making her nauseous.
Fumbling blindly, Storm found the hilt of her dagger.
"Now that fellas, is
how ya take care of a freak," sneered Rex. The gun he held let loose a
stream of white-gray smoke from its barrel. Leaning over her, Rex bared his
teeth. "I would suggest little mutie, that you not give me another reason
to shoot you down. The next time, I won’t be aiming for your shoulder," he
threatened.
Another of the men, took it
upon himself to enact his own kind of vengeance. Storm didn’t know what he
planned until she felt the tip of his shoe slamming into her side. Gasping, she
rolled over to escape another kick and even before her vision cleared, she was
throwing the dagger in Rex’s direction. She didn’t take the time to be pleased
with the fact that the knife hit its intended target, embedding itself in the
big man’s shoulder. With a cry he dropped the gun. Concentrating, she summoned
a gust of wind strong enough to knock most of the bar's occupants off their
feet and then rising with the help of that same current, she called up a bolt
of lightning that shattered the large mirror behind the bar. The light was
followed almost immediately by a loud boom of thunder that shook the room
allowing her enough time to leap through the nearest window. Once through she
took flight almost immediately. The enraged scream of the crowd, but more
specifically the enraged bellow coming from Rex followed he up soon to be
covered by the roar of the winds, as Storm began to gain altitude.
She couldn’t possibly go
back for the bag now. It was too close to the compound and she was in no
condition to properly defend herself. The best thing for her to do would be to
find somewhere to rest and try to patch herself up. Maybe if they thought she
was gone, she could slip back under their noses get the film and leave.
Storm didn’t know how long
or how far she traveled. Moving at less than half her usual speed and suffering
from nausea possibly from blood loss, she lost track of where she was going
hours ago. She had to land, if she went on much longer this way she’d do
herself much more harm than good. As she’d been hoping to make it to another
town away from the one she’d just left, she wasn’t surprised to see open
unblemished rural landscape beneath her. There wasn’t a dwelling in sight.
She’d just spotted a small
building next to a large lake just as the sun was rising when a huge shadow
fell over her obscuring her view of the ground beneath. Storm whipped her head
around and looked up. Hovering menacingly over her, made completely of metal
was none other than a mutant hunting sentinel. A sentinel that wasn’t supposed
to be fully functional as of yet. An inhuman, metallic voice called down to her
echoing over the countryside, "Mutant subject tracked and in weapons
range. Initiating primary directive."
Storm raised her head to
face the mechanical monstrosity. In her weakened state and considering she
hadn’t slept in nearly forty eight hours, Storm knew she wasn’t going to be
able to out run the thing. Wincing, she blinked and sighed regretfully. This
may be one mission that she wasn’t going to come out of. When next she opened
her eyes they were pupil less, white, translucent, the color of lightning.
Calling upon the forces of nature that were her birthright, Storm prepared to
make her last stand. "Goddess forgive me, but I had hoped there would be
more to my life than this!" She said in something of a final prayer.
Arms out stretched, tearing
the skin open on her shoulder, Storm called upon the sky to do her bidding.
"I call upon the elements. Bring forth thunder and lightning!" Twin
strings of fire from the sky crashed down on the massive mechanical monster.
Shaken but no where near to being defeated, the great android fired a volley of
mace-like missiles from its chest. Storm attempted to evade them, but she
wasn’t wholly successful. Two of the missiles struck her. One striking her in the
chest, the other catching her wounded arm.
Pain overwhelmed the
Wind-rider's mind, and all too quickly her world melted into a cold blackness.
"Primary directive...
destroy mutant female..." Storm never even felt the energy beams that
struck her as she fell unconscious to the earth below.
story by David Briganti
written by Valegra
Valegra2@aol.com
David Briganti