DISCLAIMER: What's Marvel's is Marvel's, those would be the recognizable ones. No profit is being made from the weaving of this story. Please don't sue.

FEEDBACK: Can be sent to bkittle@creighton.edu


Climb That Mountain High - Part Eight
By: Beverly McIntyre

Storm was starting to feel distinctly uneasy. As the jet neared Greece, she felt that something was distinctly not right. Looking around the cushy interior of the jet, she could see that nothing was wrong. Rogue had dug up a deck of cards from somewhere, and she and Psylocke were teaching Longshot how to play poker from the looks of it. They were using some peanuts that Longshot had found earlier instead of poker chips. Storm looked away from the game and toward the cockpit. Nothing seemed amiss there. The usual sounds of pilots doing their normal routine floated back past the door that was slightly cracked open. Finding nothing wrong, Storm leaned back in her seat, the leather creaking at the shift in weight. I feel something is wrong, but I cannot place it.

"So Longshot, why are we rushin' ta Greece?" Rogue looked up from her cards as she plopped down three peanuts into the growing pile in the center of the small table. "See your one an' raise ya two."

Longshot studiously looked down at his cards as Psylocke met Rogue's bet and raised it another two. Five peanuts were riding on a hand of nothing but Ace high. He mulled it over as he counted out the peanuts, trying to remember the lessons Wolverine had tried to give back when they were in Australia.

"Well, we need to find someone and get her out of there."

Rogue and Psylocke exchanged glances.

"Her?" Longshot nodded to Psylocke.

"Mm-hmm. I'll see your five and raise you four more." Now, that the pressure was off him, he looked up from his cards. "She's in Athens."

"Athens? Well, that makes this slightly better than the entire country," Psylocke said as she drummed her fingers on the table, waiting for Rogue to decide on whether she would continue on raising the stakes or call the bet. She looked over at Longshot, asking the question that she knew was on everybody's mind. "Is she anybody we know?"

Longshot would have been blind not see that one coming. He had kind of expected it. He had been nearly silent about Dazzler and her absence from beside him. He still had things to sort out. When he got those straight, he would talk. For now, he had to figure things out on his own.

"No, but you know her brother."

"Oh? And who would that be," Storm asked a little distractedly. Something was wrong and she still could not place it.

"Dakota," Longshot said as he watched Rogue call his bet. Rogue looked up at him, slightly startled. Storm stopped trying to find what was wrong and looked at Longshot curiously. Psylocke remained in a neutral posture but did feel the stirrings of curiousity.

"Dakota has a sister?" Rogue asked.

"Well, actually, he has three, but Gloriam is the one most likely to get into trouble," Longshot said as Psylocke called his bet also. He sighed. He obviously had missed something that Wolverine had told him.


Zeus paced in front of the cave on Mount Olympus. Hermes was taking longer than expected. Zeus felt his stomach grumble. He looked down at his abdomen and patted it lightly.

"Mayhap, I can find something to put into you." He looked around the barren little clearing in front of the cave and found nothing edible. Hrmphing to himself, he scanned the sky for something he could bring down and cook with just one lightning bolt. He squinted at a great silver bird in the distance. That should be enough to feed me.

Zeus pulled a jagged shard of energy out of the 'bolt' case strung at his side. He pulled his arm back and threw the lightning bolt with godly accuracy. He watched his bolt of lightning screech across the sky and slam into the flying silver bird with explosive effects.


Storm sensed it before it had hit. She felt the stray lightning bolt rip across the sky and smack into the jet. She had felt it coming and could do nothing to stop it. Not that she didn't try, but this lightning bolt was not like anything else she had encountered. Most lightning bolts required the thunderclouds that normally produced them. The sky that the jet had been flying through had been absolutely clear, not a cloud in the sky. She vaguely remembered feeling this way when she had been near Thor on one of his occasions of thunderbolt throwing.

The lightning bolt didn't dance across the wings of the jet like it was supposed to. Most jets, and planes for that matter, were designed to be capable of taking a lightning strike. The wings were made to take the lightning strike and harmlessly funnel it out the other wing, leaving the fuselage and the important electric enquipment inside alone. This lightning bolt avoided the special construction and slammed into the bottom of the of the fuselage with a tremendous crack.

The fuselage buckled inwards at the raw power of the lightning stroke, rending the jet near the cockpit. The bolt of intense electricity surged through the rent fuselage and coursed straight into the cockpit. Storm heard the agonized screams of the pilot and copilot as the lightning bolt danced around in the cockpit, turning their bodies into cooked meat in a manner of seconds.

There was an explosion as the cabin quickly depressurized. Time dilated for Storm as she watched in horror as Longshot was ripped from his seat. The force of depressurization was too great on his light-boned body. Storm reached out and tried to keep him in the jet with a small cyclone. But she was too late. She watched in paralyzing horror as her dear friend disappeared out of jet through the hole created by the lightning bolt.