Last Avenger

Chapter 5

Harrah's Resort was a larger complex with its own little pseudo-peninsula in the northwestern nook of the city, just the west side of the Brigantine Boulevard bridge. Out of the drab crumbs and flakes of the resort being re-consumed by the ocean on the west side and the local flora on the east, a hotel tower rose up tens of stories. The interior was a colony of hallways and stairwell columns. As Steve and Thor climbed their way through the tower, the concrete appeared sturdier: the moisture and stress cracks were less and less.

Steve felt stones in his lungs as they climbed the south stairwell of the south tower. The stairs were relatively steep, meant to either be descended in emergency or scaled by conditioned firefighters, or Thor or any other Avenger, or at one time Steve.

They emerged on the 25th floor after half an hour of climbing. The air was sharply colder than in the insulated stairwell. The tower had once all been glass, but the building's frame having shifted from the abuse of the elements had shed that shiny skin. They found a room off center on the south face of the obelisk. There was a clear view right down the coast, right over the Borgata and its plaza.

Thor lifted the Predator off his back. He snapped the bipod down and rested the rifle up against a radiator at the edge. Steve carried his heavy body, his skin tightening around him, over to a pillar by the windows. He plopped down and snatched his pill bottle out of his pocket and gobbled down a pair.

Steve fumbled the bottle out of his hand, flinching at the sudden abrasive, gravelly scrape of metal on rock. The little plastic container clicked across the ground as the few remaining pills sprung out. He irritably looked, as he crawled across the floor recovering the container and its contents, to see Thor dragging a pair of plastic chairs over to the window. The plastic seats and backings were cracked and flakes of rust sprinkled off as he set them down at the window.

"I'll take first watch," Thor declared, planting himself in a seat and setting the rifle.

Steve sighed and scooped the pills into his palms with his thumb and first finger, the bottle in the other hand. Before replacing them, he unrolled his palm to the remaining capsules he could probably count on one hand. He glanced over his shoulder to Thor who was preoccupied getting the rifle setup. Steve drew one more long breath and dropped the pills back in the bottle then replaced it back in his pocket.

Thor swept carefully over the Borgata as Steve plopped down in the seat next to him. The courtyard and parking tower seemed to be foci of foot traffic. There were streams of people flooding back and forth: they'd march over to the parking structure, disappear inside then re-emerge with covered boxes or sacks.

"Looks like moving day maybe?" Thor muttered.

Steve perked up and looked out to the Borgata. He saw the floods like termites hollowing out an old tree.

"What are they doing?" Steve said.

Thor focused the scope. "Not sure. Some of them are in rags, but it looks like some are in uniform, maybe even body armor."

"Gennisians," Steve said.

"Likely."

Those in uniforms and armor were busily partaking in the hauling of whatever goods had been delivered. A few stood watch, rifles up against their chests.

"How many guns?" Steve said.

Thor pivoted the scope tagging each guard. "Maybe a half a dozen that I can see."