Team Amazing: Justice Taskforce Issue 2

Bellow let the warm sun soak his skin, basking in the cool breath and salty tang of the ocean crashing into the beach beside him. The white sand sparkled in the sun like diamonds, coating his feet and allowing him to feel the crushing impact of each wave, breaking upon the shore, a rhythmic undertow, providing a foundation upon which the shrill cries of seagulls formed a melody, blending together into a seamless concert of nature. Squinting against the bright sun and blue sky, Bellow reflexively blinked as something caught in his eyelash. Reaching up to touch his face, he felt the cool run of moisture dripping down his cheek, melting snow caught in his hair and wild beard.

His mind slowly removed itself from the vivid dream as he struggled to retain conciousness, crashing down the side of the snowy ravine he had, until moments before, been running along. Thrashing out with his arms, Bellow struggles to find purchase against the solid blanket of white surrounding the rocky landscape that is swallowing him up. A hard wind is blowing through the pitch black night, ramming snow with freezing force at his exposed face, like countless numbers of sharp pins being pressed against his skin. He pushes himself up, and takes off at a run, jumping over a small ledge and back tracking over an exposed rock. His body feels strangely light. Suddenly something catches in his mind, still reeling from the blow to the head. Chelsea's Fury, his hammer, is not firmly grasped in his left hand. He looks around but cannot discern its large shape against the blinding sheet of white. It must have been knocked loose when he fell. Struggling to remember why he fell in the first place, he hears shouting over the large hill behind him, and above that, shrill against the howl of the wind, and whining noise. Seagulls? He wonders before realizing it's the sound of multiple SnowCats, large engined tracked snow vehicles. Suddenly the reality of the situation crashes back down upon Bellow's mind. The airdrop. The tundra cave. The terrorist research base. The helicopter getaway. Being shot down, tumbling to a sea of brilliant white. Running. Lots of running. Sounds of explosions. Smashing into something large and hard. Falling into blackness...

Snapping to reality, Bellow quickly launches himself 10 feet downhill angling his descent with reflexes honed by decades of experience. He's in his element now, the snowy capped peaks of jagged mountains. And if they chose to bring the fight to his turf, they were going to play by his rules. Running parallel to the slope of the ridge towering above him, Bellow races, legs pumping against snowy rock, eyes and face shielded by a shaggy mane of tumbling hair. The sound of the SnowCats is getting closer. Their angry whine now clearly discernible against the constant din of the wind, beating against the mountain. At this distance and given these conditions, he racks his mind and roughly gauges their position relative to his own. Relying on his years of mountain living to guide him, Bellow climbs the hill to his right, fighting against the slope and snow. Reaching the top, he runs full steam ahead as the sound of the SnowCats (2, 3 now?) grows to this left. Out of the corner of his eye he notices the glare of headlights bearing down through the driving blizzard, and then everything goes white. Bellow sinks fast into the snow, falling exactly where he estimated the hidden gully to be. No more than four or five feet deep, Bellow angles his body down keeping his below the surface of the snow above. He listens carefully for the sound of the approaching SnowCats, the dense snow transferring their sound with much more precision than the freezing night air above. Suddenly the snow around him rumbles, and Bellow tenses his muscles, letting out a booming yell, expending with every iota of air left in his lungs, creating a supersonic percussion that transferred with equal speed and ferocity into the snow surrounding his body. He's aware, for a split second, of the SnowCats racing along above him and then everything shakes to pieces. The sound of his cry and dislodged the sheet of ice and snow capping this side of the peak and with a sound akin to grinding a sheet of styrofoam along gravel. Gathering speed the snow charges along and Bellow breaks free to the surface, riding a wave of crushing ice behind the tails of the three SnowCats racing ahead, attempting to flee the tidal wave of white behind them.