Stormy night. Moderate rain. Dark road. All helpful.
Good night to pick. Krakoa is drawing a lot of attention from just about everywhere. Definitely keeping these dipshits distracted.
Pulled the old Corolla up their long driveway. Seatbelt off. Just in case. Compound wasn't far ahead. Target was in the Compound somewhere.
Checkpoint up ahead. Two guards manning it. Might be a problem normally. Just meant the fun was going to kick off a little sooner than expected. Feel myself coming to life. Mundanity of day to day dealings melted off. Today was to be a big day and it was all about to be in motion. The anticipation. The subtle movements that would lead to slow movements which would soon lead to controlled chaos. Just how I liked it.
"Who goes there?" one of the Guards called out, like a character in an old movie. Maybe a Stormtrooper in Star Wars, or a Nazi in Indiana Jones, or some dumb college kid in a slasher movie. His partner calls something out too. Barely hear it. Doesn't really matter. Dumb move. Let's me know exactly where he is. In the checkpoint booth.
They're idiots. Unprepared. Casual. They do not know what they are doing. Unfortunately for their families I know exactly what I am doing. I get out shooting. Who Goes There goes down in a sudden tangle of confused limbs and I riddle the checkpoint booth. Wait a second and put a few more rounds into the bottom of the booth. Insurance.
Check them both. Who Goes There is fading but conscious. Ensure they're both neutralized.
Back to the car. Ate the salt and Tajin, drank the lime juice. Grabbed the Pabst.
Stripped one of the corpses and slipped into it's clothes. Set both on fire before I headed in.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
Slipped right on in. Got a little attention. Wore my own skin. Bigger than most of them. Worth the risk. Feels good to be seen. They don't ask too many questions anyway, I got PBRs. They like those. Makes them feel tough. It's piss. They're intoxicated already. Several sitting around dumpy couches watching the television. A few at a table looking over maps and talking about a plan. One over in the kitchen is watching some livestream, engrossed.
Don't know what plan precisely. Not sure what they found out. They found out something JANUS don't like. Planning something JANUS don't like. That's probably enough. Involvement of the mutie is definitely enough. Pyro type. Not well controlled. Creates a window, a window I am here to close permanently.
Find the exits, proper and potential. Map out floor plan. Wander around. Lots of guns. Most are armed. Shotguns resting against walls. Cinderblocks stacked up to just below the windows. Tweaker reinforcement. Rare opportunity here.
Glad I ditched that skinny build and it's vague shit tattoos. Should work to distract any investigation, hard to focus on. Red herring. Got the proper tattoos now. Clean lines. Nonsensical comingling of different symbols. Different ideologies. United in a few things. Frustration. Anger. Lack of imagination. Lot of old symbols mixed in with new shit. Very helpful.
Bunch of drunk druggy extremist fucks, eyes probably barely focusing, scan over my arms, chest, neck, they're gonna see a symbol or two they like and a symbol or two they don't like. Makes me fit right in. Let's them acknowledge my presence and simultaneously feel secure that they got a better head on their shoulders than me. Let's them go back to drinking, showing off their weaponry and plotting while I figure out where the pyro is. Process of elimination means it doesn't last too long.
First level is the party. Basement is for storing drugs and people. Several large cages, empty. Several footlockers, full. Pyro must be on the upper level.
I make two plates. Carne Asada. Beans. Rice. Put some Onions and Cilantro on both, on top of the Carne. One of the wastoids nudges me and tells me there are Taquitos in the fridge. I grab four of them and put two on each plate. The wastoid asks me why I'm making two plates. If I want company. I tell her no, and I point upstairs.
"Ohhh," she says, expressing her disappointment by looking down, then back up, then letting out a slight breath.
"That's too bad. Grab him a beer. One of the IPAs. He likes those. I don't, they're gross, they're too-"
I turn back to the fridge and grab two IPAs. When I turn back around she has taken the hint and is flopping back down on one of the couches, shooting me daggers. She won't be upset for long.
Up the stairs. At the door. One plate balanced on left forearm. One plate in left hand. Both beers in my right hand.
"Hey," I say as I kick the door lightly, "Hey man I got you a plate and an IPA. Says it's a Peanut Butter Milk Stout."
I wait a second, then kick again, "Hurry up man my hands are full, I don't wanna drop the grub."
Door opens. Pyro Mutant is walking away again, making room for me to come in. Plopping down in a chair.
"Thanks for the food man," he takes one plate, places it on his desk and reaches out for the beer.
I pass it to him. Put my plate next to his. Open up mine as he pops the tab on his. We clink cans. He takes a sip.
"I was hungry too. Didn't want to go down there right now. Too much noise you know? Hard to concent...wait who are you?"
I take a sip as he begins to stand up. I open up on him.
Exquisite.
Bergeron motions over to the man standing beside him.
He's queued up his three screens and added on a fourth. Their time codes all synched up.
"Discounting the bodies by the checkpoint this is the moment he starts up."
"Top floor right?"
"Yeah."
"You've told me about all this. I want your opinion. I don't need to watch. That's your job. I have many things I could be doing right now."
"I've got timecodes set Mr. Fury. I got my presentation ready. I've got a conclusion ready. But I want to show you. I've got it all queued. Timestamps. Angles. Cameras. We will definitely want to wipe this all when we're done, that's why I asked you to come see it now."
"Well you got me. Get on with it."
Camera 1 is an Outside View looking at the Compound from a distance. Showing several parked cars, the main building, and an open but empty garage filled with gym equipment.
Camera 2 is a view from just above the front door of the Compound, looking in on the party. Couches are to the left. Kitchen is to the right. Dead ahead is a hallway which leads to the stairs.
Camera 3 is a view from the Pyro Mutant's computer looking into the bedroom. The Mutant is visible to the right. Bushwacker is just offscreen to the left.
Camera 4 is a view from a temporary Vibranium implant in Bushwacker's eye. The Mutant has just stood up, looking dead at him. A bewildered expression on his face.
Bergeron looks to Camera 1. Not feeling the need to watch the other cameras again.
On Camera 1 the upstairs windows light up twice in quick succession. The gunshots loud and sharp through cameras 3 and 4. After a few seconds of silence he can hear the commotion from Camera 2.
Bergeron focuses on Camera 1 as the windows blow out violently, flames licking up, out, and onto the roof.
He turns to see what Fury thinks. The man's face doesn't show any emotion, but his eyes are glued to Camera 4.