"I should've said everything that I never told you. Is it too late for us now?"
Fate and destiny are things seen often as interchangeable. Webster's dictionary states that fate means: the will or principle or determining cause by which things in gen...
A strong breeze whistled through the air before gathering into a howling wind that tossed heavy snow over the blanketed tundra.
Bright high beams shone weakly through the white-out, briefly illuminating a dark figure that began waving in front of the vehicle. The large truck slowed to a halt before the man insulated within an orange hooded, thick parka, gloves, and goggles, who propped up the staff he held topped with glowing orange mark to call attention to his stance.
A door on either side swung out to allow the departure and approach of two others similarly dressed, though in black.
"You the guys from Washington?" The Search Team Leader asked.
"You get many other visitors out here?" The S.H.I.E.L.D. Technician questioned rhetorically.
"How long have you been on site?" The S.H.I.E.L.D. Lieutenant interrogated.
"Since this morning," the Search Team Leader answered. "A Russian oil team called it in about 18 hours ago."
"How come nobody spotted it before?" S.H.I.E.L.D. Lieutenant questioned.
"It's really not that surprising," the Search Team Leader explained, "this landscape's changing all the time. You got any idea what this thing is, exactly?" Another surveyor of the area strode in the same direction some distance to their right.
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"I don't know. It's probably a weather balloon."
"Haha, I don't think so," the Search Team Leader laughed. "You know, we don't have the equipment for a job like this."
"How long before we can start craning it out?" The Technician asked.
"I don't think you quite understand. You guys are going to need one hell of a crane!"
A sharp curve stuck out of the drifts, the wingtip of what was unmistakably an aircraft protruding from the buried remains. Orange markers dotted the air above the five walking its base, barely reaching the half point of the length revealed, a blue light swivelling from the explorations of a man that had climbed to travel the top running over the rim. The two newcomers gaped as they stared up at the size, marks set in the snow further behind in the outline of a behemoth, triangular plane.
As the sun set, bags of equipment were laid nearby to supplement constant work. The vehicle was parked and a mechanism overhanging from the back was distended to spin around, and around, pointed down and slicing gradually through the surface of the craft with a teal laser. The metal supports of the interior stretched cold and ice covered as the laser spun to imprint on the floor below, the circle of the ceiling finally falling to collapse with a clang, its edge smoldered and followed by flurries of snow and a cylinder of reflected daylight.
