The Iron Skeleton

Chapter 29

Back to the present... 

A lone figure stood in the midst of the bustling town nestled in the mountains. His gray eyes scanned the crowds as he sauntered along, hands folded behind his back. His dull black boots crunched in the ever-rising snow as he wove through the masses. 

The man perked up when he spotted two men who towered over all the other townsfolk. The taller of the pair carried a guitar case on his back and seemed to match Buzzard's description of Brant Nayan. From behind, however, it was hard to know for sure, and so the man turned to follow the two and catch a glimpse of his face when opportunity arose. 

The two men entered a mechanical parts store and shut the door behind themselves. After running a hand through his hair and straightening his overcoat, he pushed through the entryway as well. 

As he stepped into the shop, the taller of the pair glanced back, and indeed, his face exactly matched Brant Nayan's. The gray-eyed man nodded slightly at Brant and promptly headed over to a bucket of nuts and bolts. He pretended to sift through the container's contents while keeping an eye and ear trained on Brant and his companion. 

Brant's companion, a pleasant man with dirty blond hair, leaned on the counter and grinned at the clerk. "Hey, do you guys sell fuel here? Premium naphtha-kerosene, if you've got it." 

The clerk nodded. "Which airline do you work for?" 

"None, actually." he replied with a chuckle, "It's actually for two vessels I built. Had to let them down last night just on the edge of town." 

"I see." the clerk said as he nodded again. "Well, let's head to the back and get that fuel for you." 

While the trio retreated to the storage room behind the counter, the gray-eyed man turned and stepped back outside. He made his way to a secluded spot, an empty parking lot behind a windowless warehouse. After one last glance around, he slipped a metal ball from his pocket and tossed it skyward. Midair, the ball opened up, and came down on his head to form a helmet resembling a charcoal skull. 

With the Thrasher helmet on his head, he shrugged his coat off. Then he ripped his button-up shirt off, revealing the torso of a rubbery armor suit, dull black in hue. Finally, he slipped a knife from his boot, slashed his jeans off, and stepped out of them. With his civilian clothes removed, the Thrasher rocketed into the sky above. 

With a bird's-eye view of the whole town, the Thrasher glanced over its outskirts. Just behind a knobby knoll waited a pair of ships. The first was much larger and pearly in color, with a star-shaped projection of tinted glass on the top, causing the whole vessel to appear like a sand dollar from above. The second ship, in addition to its smaller size, had a narrower body, completed by two wide, rounded wings of purple color. Overall, its shape resembled a butterfly. 

Seeing no other strange vessels warranting the use of jet fuel anywhere near the town, the Thrasher sped over to the pair of ships and dropped right between them. He paced between the two vessels a few times, inspecting their undersides as he did so. Finally, he grabbed his knife again. Pressing a red button on the bottom of the handle, a orange plasma oozed over the blade. Steam rose from the edge, along with a dull burning smell. 

The Thrasher stepped under the Sand Dollar and looked up at the network of conduits sprawled across its underside. He raised the heated blade to the pipe-like structure and applied steady pressure. The weapon punctured a hole in the metal casing, and then he felt a softer membrane give way. A few drops of fuel dripped from the hole into the mercenary's gloved hand. 

He waited until no more of the black liquid dripped out. Then he moved to another spot, made another hole on a different branch of the pipe, and continued the process until nine breaches had been made. He checked the snow underneath the breaks to make sure no more telltale drips had appeared, and once satisfied, he repeated the process on the Butterfly's daintier fuel-lines.