A Plane Crash
Author's Notes: Finally, Chapter 3 is here. My apologies for causing such a long wait.
July 10, 1982; 12:01 pm EST; Manhattan Island, New York, USA
Ororo and Bishop find themselves on the island of Manhattan in New York City. It, like modern day New York, was busy as usual. Gladly, they did not end up on top of a skyscraper, but an alleyway between a deli and a dry cleaning business. Ororo looked at Bishop with a slight smile on her face, as she felt a bit accomplished. Persuading Forge to help them had been hard. Seeing his face and confronting him had been even harder. But she had succeeded. "Bishop, we made it," she says as she hugs him gently and he returns it.
"Ororo, your eyes..." Bishop started before silencing. He just kept following and watching her eyes as they departed.
"What?"
"They're blue again, baby," he says with a confused look on his face.
"Contacts," she says as she looks outside of the alleyway to see continuous blurs of cars passing, mostly yellow taxi cabs. "Bishop, shall we go purchase a newspaper. I believe we shall need to know what time we are in without raising suspicion." She began walking from the alley without waiting for an answer but was stopped by his massive hand tugging at her trailing arm.
"I don't think that'll be smart," he says then explains, "Unless you have some coins dated back in the 70s and 80s."
"Yes, you are correct. Then perhaps New York should feel a sudden gust of wind through its corridors of large buildings," she says as her voice turns into echo and her blue eyes turn into a foggy white. "Winds of this latter time, you will still obey my will!" she yells to the skies and they obey her will. Winds pick up speed from seemingly nowhere; so strong that they knock some people onto the gum-stained concrete sidewalks. But they recede quickly as Bishop runs into the midst of the New York City workers, who are on their lunch break, and gathers up a scattered newspaper.
"Nice work," Bishop says as he returns with the newspaper, "And Forge didn't do too bad either. Even though we're in New York instead of Africa, we're definitely in the right time. Look," he points to the top of the newspaper, "1982. That would make you 6 years old?"
"Yes, but we must hurry. My parents and their lives will be taken soon if we do not hurry. I loss them while I was 6," she says with eyes full of fear, anxiety, and anticipation as they turn from foggy white to their regular blue again.
"I think we should find somewhere to eat first," Bishop answers as he rubs his stomach.
"Perhaps you are correct," she says as she slides her arm into his arm and they walk out of the alleyway and join the normal blur of walkers down the street. They did not walk far before coming across a large pizza shop and walked inside, following an Asian couple talking in fluent Chinese.
"Ororo, I've been thinking, and I'm wondering how are we going to get all the way to Egypt from here," Bishop asks as they line up in front of the glass counter where people are quickly being served their lunches and are paying their money to the Italian-accented owner of the shop.
"I can easily fly the both of us there," Ororo answers as she steps forward in the line.
"No you---" Bishop begins but is cut off by a loud 'NEXT!'.
"Yes, may I have a chicken salad?" Ororo asks while looking through a purse, trying to find correctly dated bills and coins. This was one thing she hadn't counted on. There had been so many changes to the faces of the dollar that it would not be easy to pass them on but the coins would be easy if necessary.
"I'm with her," Bishop says in his overpowering voice as the guy writes down Ororo's order. "I'll be having a cheese steak with fried onions."
"Alright," the guy says as he finishes writing down the order and finally looks up to see the both of them. He jumped back in a shiver as he looked at Ororo's face. "Sorry, you look just like that Munroe girl," he pauses, quirks his eyebrows and then continues, "But a whole lot younger. You related to the Munroes?"
"Yes," Ororo says with a slight smile as they move towards the cash register and the man yells the order to the other employees working the food. She mumbles under her breath, "More than you know."
"Like I was saying," Bishop finally continues, "You can't fly the both of us over there nonstop. You can't move your wind that fast."
"I can create a wind storm over the ocean with little effort that can carry us there faster than any plane of the early 80s. But we must not concern ourselves with travel yet; we must first discover if my parents have already taken me to Cairo. Perhaps we will not even have to step foot in Africa," Storm answers as the man comes to the register and looks at a small sheet of paper.
"That'll be $7.02," the Italian-accented man says as he looks up from the sheet of paper.
"Here you are," Ororo says with a mellow voice as she hands the man the money. He counts it and places it in the register. "You said you knew of the Munroes," Ororo says with curiosity, "Would you know how I could get in contact with them?"
"Yes, if you wunna catch a flight to Cairo, Egypt. David Munroe was in her earlier sayin' he had an assignment there for the paper. I guess they'll be leavin' in a few hours."
"Thank you," Ororo says as she walks down the glass counter and picks up her wrapped chicken salad and Bishop follows behind her, grabbing his cheese steak with massive hands.
"Bishop, there is a phone book next to that phone," she points to a section in the pizza shop where a payphone is connected as they walk towards their seats.
"I'll get it," he says, knowing that they could find the phone number and address that would direct them to the abode of David, N'Dare, and little Ororo Munroe. -------
"This is the place," Ororo says as she looks to Bishop with eyes jumping around. She raised her hand to the door of the Victorian style house. Every joint ached as she felt her sweat glands open on her forehead. Seeing her parents again, seeing herself as a child, would be something she could never change. It could rewrite her entire history; make things totally different than they should be. As these thoughts decide to crowd the mind of the Windrider at this last instance, it was almost impossible to lift her arm any further than she had done already.
"Ororo?" Bishop asked as he saw her hesitation.
"N'Dare, did you pack Ororo's lightning picture? You know how much she loves that picture," came a strong male voice down the hall, near the elevator.
Ororo's head quickly turned towards the elevator door as it closed and the response was muffled out. "Bishop, that was them!" she says as she turns around to face him. Tears were building in her eyes, "That was my father's voice!"
Author's Notes: Finally, Chapter 3 is here. My apologies for causing such a long wait.
July 10, 1982; 12:01 pm EST; Manhattan Island, New York, USA
Ororo and Bishop find themselves on the island of Manhattan in New York City. It, like modern day New York, was busy as usual. Gladly, they did not end up on top of a skyscraper, but an alleyway between a deli and a dry cleaning business. Ororo looked at Bishop with a slight smile on her face, as she felt a bit accomplished. Persuading Forge to help them had been hard. Seeing his face and confronting him had been even harder. But she had succeeded. "Bishop, we made it," she says as she hugs him gently and he returns it.
"Ororo, your eyes..." Bishop started before silencing. He just kept following and watching her eyes as they departed.
"What?"
"They're blue again, baby," he says with a confused look on his face.
"Contacts," she says as she looks outside of the alleyway to see continuous blurs of cars passing, mostly yellow taxi cabs. "Bishop, shall we go purchase a newspaper. I believe we shall need to know what time we are in without raising suspicion." She began walking from the alley without waiting for an answer but was stopped by his massive hand tugging at her trailing arm.
"I don't think that'll be smart," he says then explains, "Unless you have some coins dated back in the 70s and 80s."
"Yes, you are correct. Then perhaps New York should feel a sudden gust of wind through its corridors of large buildings," she says as her voice turns into echo and her blue eyes turn into a foggy white. "Winds of this latter time, you will still obey my will!" she yells to the skies and they obey her will. Winds pick up speed from seemingly nowhere; so strong that they knock some people onto the gum-stained concrete sidewalks. But they recede quickly as Bishop runs into the midst of the New York City workers, who are on their lunch break, and gathers up a scattered newspaper.
"Nice work," Bishop says as he returns with the newspaper, "And Forge didn't do too bad either. Even though we're in New York instead of Africa, we're definitely in the right time. Look," he points to the top of the newspaper, "1982. That would make you 6 years old?"
"Yes, but we must hurry. My parents and their lives will be taken soon if we do not hurry. I loss them while I was 6," she says with eyes full of fear, anxiety, and anticipation as they turn from foggy white to their regular blue again.
"I think we should find somewhere to eat first," Bishop answers as he rubs his stomach.
"Perhaps you are correct," she says as she slides her arm into his arm and they walk out of the alleyway and join the normal blur of walkers down the street. They did not walk far before coming across a large pizza shop and walked inside, following an Asian couple talking in fluent Chinese.
"Ororo, I've been thinking, and I'm wondering how are we going to get all the way to Egypt from here," Bishop asks as they line up in front of the glass counter where people are quickly being served their lunches and are paying their money to the Italian-accented owner of the shop.
"I can easily fly the both of us there," Ororo answers as she steps forward in the line.
"No you---" Bishop begins but is cut off by a loud 'NEXT!'.
"Yes, may I have a chicken salad?" Ororo asks while looking through a purse, trying to find correctly dated bills and coins. This was one thing she hadn't counted on. There had been so many changes to the faces of the dollar that it would not be easy to pass them on but the coins would be easy if necessary.
"I'm with her," Bishop says in his overpowering voice as the guy writes down Ororo's order. "I'll be having a cheese steak with fried onions."
"Alright," the guy says as he finishes writing down the order and finally looks up to see the both of them. He jumped back in a shiver as he looked at Ororo's face. "Sorry, you look just like that Munroe girl," he pauses, quirks his eyebrows and then continues, "But a whole lot younger. You related to the Munroes?"
"Yes," Ororo says with a slight smile as they move towards the cash register and the man yells the order to the other employees working the food. She mumbles under her breath, "More than you know."
"Like I was saying," Bishop finally continues, "You can't fly the both of us over there nonstop. You can't move your wind that fast."
"I can create a wind storm over the ocean with little effort that can carry us there faster than any plane of the early 80s. But we must not concern ourselves with travel yet; we must first discover if my parents have already taken me to Cairo. Perhaps we will not even have to step foot in Africa," Storm answers as the man comes to the register and looks at a small sheet of paper.
"That'll be $7.02," the Italian-accented man says as he looks up from the sheet of paper.
"Here you are," Ororo says with a mellow voice as she hands the man the money. He counts it and places it in the register. "You said you knew of the Munroes," Ororo says with curiosity, "Would you know how I could get in contact with them?"
"Yes, if you wunna catch a flight to Cairo, Egypt. David Munroe was in her earlier sayin' he had an assignment there for the paper. I guess they'll be leavin' in a few hours."
"Thank you," Ororo says as she walks down the glass counter and picks up her wrapped chicken salad and Bishop follows behind her, grabbing his cheese steak with massive hands.
"Bishop, there is a phone book next to that phone," she points to a section in the pizza shop where a payphone is connected as they walk towards their seats.
"I'll get it," he says, knowing that they could find the phone number and address that would direct them to the abode of David, N'Dare, and little Ororo Munroe. -------
"This is the place," Ororo says as she looks to Bishop with eyes jumping around. She raised her hand to the door of the Victorian style house. Every joint ached as she felt her sweat glands open on her forehead. Seeing her parents again, seeing herself as a child, would be something she could never change. It could rewrite her entire history; make things totally different than they should be. As these thoughts decide to crowd the mind of the Windrider at this last instance, it was almost impossible to lift her arm any further than she had done already.
"Ororo?" Bishop asked as he saw her hesitation.
"N'Dare, did you pack Ororo's lightning picture? You know how much she loves that picture," came a strong male voice down the hall, near the elevator.
Ororo's head quickly turned towards the elevator door as it closed and the response was muffled out. "Bishop, that was them!" she says as she turns around to face him. Tears were building in her eyes, "That was my father's voice!"
