Baltimore: Endgame

[Trask]

Alpha Leader watched as the systems rebooted after the temporary outage. The frame had been down for less than sixty seconds but that was enough time for the dead to swarm over him. They had hammered and chopped and battered at the armour to little effect before being swept away in a few, mighty sweeps.

Now the dead were living up to their names. They were once again truly dead. The mutant that had controlled them had either fled or been destroyed. He hoped it was the latter.

"Alpha Leader, spontaneous power failure in my frame, requesting cover while system reboots." Alpha four reported.

"Acknowledged Alpha Four, Alpha Three is moving into a covering position."

It seemed highly unlikely that both frames had suffered power-outs in exactly the same way without external tampering. It warranted investigation at a later date.

"Alpha Two, disengage the sniper and move to a perimeter position, Alpha Five through Eight, hold your positions."

The situation at last seemed under control. The only people up and moving were attending to the wounded and doing what they could to help them to the emergency services.

Alpha Leader had no problem with that.

He watched as the mutant designated Wolverine rushed by with a wounded man in his arms and a young woman in tow. They presented no threat.

"Alpha Leader to command, situation is under control."

"Well done Alpha Team, hold your positions and await further orders."

In his truck Trask closed the comms and frowned. He had lost Alpha Seven. The video log would need reviews and the remains of the frame would need to be examined, but it looked very much like one of the X-Men had assisted in the destruction of his enforcer.

There were going to be some uncomfortable questions asked down the line, and Trask would want answers.

Good ones.

He thumbed a different channel on the comms, "All remaining Bravo units withdraw from NovaTeX premises and prepare for extraction, the emergency services can take it from here." He closed the channel.

Trask looked at the digital mission timer that ticked away on the monitor.

He gave them three minutes.

[Trask]

2:57

2:58

2:59

3:00

Trask glanced at the satellite image; all of Bravo Team had successfully evacuated the NovaTeX facility and gathered at the pre-arranged extraction point. The Chinook was en route to collect them already and with the weather improving they would be out of there in minutes.

Alpha Team had set up its defensive perimeter and and remaining security forces and civilians were far enough away for it not to be an issue. It was time to find out if Deadpool had earned his wages.

Trask flipped the safety cover off of a yellow and black striped switch and paused a moment, his thumb poised just above it. "Sorry Edward," he muttered to himself and then pressed down.

It only took a second for the electronic signal to cross the mile from the truck to the receiver planted on the explosives in the basement of the NovaTeX facility. And then another second for the charge to be delivered to the carefully wired bombs. Wade Wilson had done his work well.

The packs of SEMTEX blew one after another in a long, fiery chain reaction that terminated at the final pack directly beneath the heart of the building.

A little smiley face had been drawn in the clay-like explosive with the words 'Have a nice day!' written beneath it. Half a second later it was obliterated.

The explosion shook the earth around the facility, further dislodging the remaining debris and staggering those nearby. The remaining windows blew out, followed by long, fiery plumes that billowed out of every hole and fracture in the long suffering building. A huge cloud of fire, smoke and dust lifted into the air as the roof fell in and the office tower slowly slumped into the hole left by the blast.

Trask watched it all on the satellite image, expressionless. It was done. He flipped the safety cover back into place, turned and picked up the phone. Auto-dial punched in the necessary numbers.

Standing in the lobby of NovaTeX HQ in Washington Edward Rawlins felt the cell-phone in his pocket vibrate. He pulled it out, frowned at the caller ID and then answered.

"Edward Rawlins," he said guardedly. He had an idea who the scrambled number would be. He had been expecting the call. He'd still half hoped that he wouldn't get it though.

"You're about as safe as you're ever likely to get Edward," Trask rumbled, "they are all here. I suggest you go now."

There was a click and the call ended. Less than seven seconds. Damn but the man was paranoid. Or very, very careful. Edward never could decide which.

He straightened his tie, nodded to his assistant and stepped out through the doors onto the broad flight of steps beyond. A mob of reporters had gathered almost as soon as the attack in Baltimore had commenced, hoping to get a statement from a NovaTeX PR officer. Thus far there had been suspiciously little contact.

Now the CEO of the entire company was standing before them. It was like some sort of dream come true.

The instant hubbub of questions, accusations and requests assaulted him before he had even opened his mouth. He held his out his hands for quiet.

"One at a time ladies and gentleman, one at a time," inside he might have been squirming, but outside he was stoic and composed. The facade that had seen him rise to the top.

"Mr. Rawlins, what are your initial reactions to the attack on the NovaTeX Baltimore facility?"

"Shock, horror and disappointment," he said somberly, "I had hoped that the mutant community would have learned from the horrors of Alcatraz that violence is never the answer. For every mutant that protests against the idea of the cure, there is one who desperately wants, or even needs it. Why should they not be allowed to make their own choice?"

"Do you not think that the idea of calling it a 'cure' is what people might be finding offensive? The idea that you are branding the mutant community as sick?"

"Indeed," Edward agreed, "and I would like to point out that it was Worthington Labs that branded it as such, not NovaTeX. Going forward, NovaTeX pharmaceuticals will be marketing the formula as 'The Option'"

There was a general murmur and scratching of notes being taken. Several flashes went off as pictures were taken. He noticed, at the back a CNN van had turned up and the camera was already rolling. How did they always get here so damn fast?

"And how much of the cu ... " the reporter paused and smiled a little ruefully, "the Option, can the world expect NovaTeX to be able to supply?"

"That is a good question. Given the trouble that has occurred at the Baltimore distribution facility, I would like to announce that with immediate effect, the Option will be available from all major NovaTeX facilities."

There was a stunned pause.

"But," one reporter finally found his voice, "I thought the majority of the stock was destroyed with Worthington Labs?"

Edward nodded and favoured the man with a thin smile, "indeed it was, and our supply is still spread thinly, however, our top researcher, Dr. Essex has been working hard on duplicating the formula and just last week has succeeded. I was going to hold back on revealing this news until the weekend edition, but in light of this mornings tragedy it seems only right."

The hubbub exploded into life again, reporters shouting over each other in an effort to be heard.

"Should it not have been revealed to the public that more than the Worthington stock might become available?"

Rawlins shook his head, "false hope is a dangerous thing, I did not want to reveal our line of research until we could be sure it would yield results."

The questions went on, one after another, until after almost half an hour he decided enough was enough. "Thankyou ladies and gentlemen, thankyou, a PR officer will be out to answer any further questions you might have."

With that he turned and quickly strode back inside.

It was done.