[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wKZoxNV.jpg?2[/img][/center] [hr] [center][h1][color=blue]STA[/color][color=yellow]TIC[/color]: SPECIAL CROSSOVER ISSUE # 3[/h1][/center] [center] [h3] EVENT: ABSOLUTE CRISIS [/h3][/center] Cold. That was the first word on his mind, flying upwards above the Narrows. Teeth chattering, he wiped a sheen of dew that had accumulated on his googles from his trek towards Staten Island. Then, a face-full of sea-gull slammed into him. “ Motherfu-” His shouts were blocked out by the wild roar of the southerly wind. Feathered wings flapped in his face, the smell of bird poo and sour fish choking his senses. He waved his arms uncoordinatedly, one foot coming loose. Crud. He slipped off the slick metal and would have nearly fell into the murky depths below. If it wasn't for his last minute thinking. Static charge built up on his fingertips, allowing him to stick to the bottom of the manhole like an old piece of gum. He watched as the flock dispersed, squawking in laughter. Virgil swayed in the air precariously for a few moments before managing to haul himself back up on the thick disc of grilled steel. He'd imagined his obituary for a second. VIRGIL HAWKINS. 2001 - 2019. DIED BECAUSE HE WAS SURPRISED BY BIRDS. He would never live that one down if it happened. Virgil found it odd that he’d never seen the ocean before. He’d explored swimming pools, rivers and lakes before but nothing could compare to the wide open blue vistas in front of him. Sea salt flecked on his lips, soaking in the cold, briny air. The polarized goggles protected his pupils from the blistering autumn gales, eyes narrowing on his target. Staten Island. The site of one of the last towers. He was still too far away and worse of all, the weather wasn't helping either. The Dakotan native muscles bunched up in the chill. The cloth of his jacket flapped relentlessly in the middle of the bay. That and his reserves were beginning to peter out. His legs were beginning to feel like jelly. He hadn’t traveled this far and for so long before. The glowing stripes on his jacket began to dim in luminescence in a traffic light. Screams echoed over the waters. Words that he heard a dozen times over in different contexts over hundreds of patrols, coming somewhere over from the bridge between Brooklyn and Staten Island. No. He couldn’t give up now. He still needed to do this. If he'd give up now, then, what about Dakota? Dakota could have been hit by this damn thing and he'd have been none the wiser for it. Hell, if Sharon and Dad were in the thick of it right now......A look of grim determination spread upon his face. He needed more speed. The low hum of current increased in volume and the bottom of his surfboard exploded in a burst of blue brilliance. Air parted and rushed into the void, thunder reverberating behind him. The Verrazano sliced through the bay like a rib-cage, a bulky mass of gun-metal steel protruding above the swirling water. He flew in closer, hovering above the chaos of beeping cars and shouting drivers. The intersections were gummed up with mile-long traffic jams, everyone trying desperately to flee from Brooklyn towards Staten Island. At the back were a school of buses and behind them were a crowd of infected individuals that were slowly closing their jaws on the rear of the conga line. He came down like a streak of lightning, standing with his arms crossed between the school bus and the horde. “ I’ve had a real long day today. So, here’s what I’m only gonna say this once. All of you can just go have fun with one another while I escort these people out of here. Sound like a deal?” There was a pregnant pause. The crowd remained glued to their position whilst the bus passengers behind him waited with bated breath. A scream followed by several others dashed Virgil’s hopes as dozens charged towards him, leaping and vaulting over cars and obstacles. “ All right, then.” Virgil grunted, electromagnetically pushing a sedan that had stopped in the middle of the intersection in front of the crowd to act as a shield. " If you're still alive after this - " Virgil looks back at the crowd. " I'm gonna need to borrow one of your buses for a second." Looks of confusion were shared between each of the passengers. Virgil signed. " Trust me. It'll make more sense later." [hr] Drone 4_A_23_Alpha . It’s host would soon expire within 23 hours, 15 minutes and 10 seconds from a blood hemorrhage. It was enough time to fulfill the parameters of the task that it had been given. A number of unknown variables hadn’t been taken into account. Other drones relay across the network, Group Beta 3 klicks away whilst Group Cossack is 5 klicks away. The mission parameters wouldn’t be satisfied if The target is currently airborne, a distance of 80 meters above and 0.5 klicks away from the central node. Further analysis through the drones infra-red sensors and through the vision of their hosts indicates that this unknown variable, 'Static', is on top of this bus. He breaches through the outer perimeter. Drone 4_A_23_Alpha signals to the rest of the swarm to move in on the coordinates. High priority. The tower is under attack. [hr] “ WHEELS ON THE BUS GO ROUND AND ROUND, MOTHERFUCKERS!” The bus slammed into the base of the tower like a battering ram, shaking from the impact. There! Well, only one way to find out. Virgil gingerly removed the gloe right hand, already feeling the heavy voltage seeping into the air. The hairs on his fingers were on end, only millimeters away from touching the power conduit. He screamed as he pushed the electricity out into the web of wiring interlaced throughout the tower. Circuits overloaded, capacitors shattered apart and internal resistors melted like wax. Every drop of electricity he had within him and more was forced within the machine. Something trickled down his nose. He wiped his upper lip with a finger and saw crimson stained on the whorls of his fingerprints. That wasn't supposed to come out of your nose like that. Why was he feeling tired so suddenly? And then, Virgil collapsed.