thefirststark (
thefirststark) wrote2013-07-21 09:05 pm
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Flight
The space within the SXF-16 is cramped. Three seats, and room for maybe two suitcases. Ask anyone who flew on the Pan Am clipper ships, and they would say that this is a step backwards. But ask anyone who sat at the controls of the SF-12 Mockingbird or SF-11 Vulture, and he would be thrilled there's room for a co-pilot.
Howard opens the hatch from the outside, leading his passenger aboard.
"Welcome aboard, Helena."
Howard opens the hatch from the outside, leading his passenger aboard.
"Welcome aboard, Helena."
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She follows him into the plane, a smile blooming across her face. "Thank you, Howard. This is ever so exciting." She does tend to get even more British when she's enthused about something.
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He takes his seat at the controls, already wearing a bomber jacket with the Stark Industries logo on the right breast and his name on the left.
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Helena takes a seat as well, smoothing the skirt of the dress that Bar provided for her when asked about 1940s fashion.
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"Miss Carter used to say as much. Not everyone does, unfortunately."
He goes through the usual crosschecks, paying attention to what he needs to, treating other things on a long list somewhat dismissively.
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For now, however, she just watches him and his preparations. It's quite thrilling.
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"OK, we're ready for takeoff. Sit back. And strap in." Seatbelts are always a good addition to a plane.
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She leans back, clutching the arms of her seat. The tiny hint of flying anxiety is finally showing its head.
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The propeller begins to turn, and the plan starts its trip forward.
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"Oh, you should see the roads around the Warehouse, Howard. Dirt and nothing else." The Badlands aren't known for nice roads, and Artie is a terrible driver.
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Howard pulls back on the stick and the plane's nose lifts. Outside the semi-desert on either side of the runway races by, lit by the summer sun.
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Howard maintains an even pull on the stick and holds the speed steady with a pedal not unlike that in a car. And soon, there is a slight feeling as though the ground is pulling away.
Which it is.
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Yes. Helena Wells, great inventor and author, is distracting herself with weather.
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"Detroit is like that in the winter, too. I don't miss it. I came out here for the sunshine, after all." Brilliant sunshine that slowly goes from behind the plane to behind.
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"Oh, my." Helena grins at the light as it streams around the plane. "The sun really is lovely out here."
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Her eyes open wide as the plane goes higher, and the city comes into view. "That is one lovely view, Howard. I see why you don't want to relocate."
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"So which way do you want to good, Miss Wells?"
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She looks out the window again, pondering for a moment. "How about over there closer to the ocean?" The last time she was in a plane, it was dark, and she had bad flying anxiety.
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"The ocean it is. And I can try to point out some of the sights below." Though at 10,000, it will be hard to pick out much.
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She smiles, and looks out of the plane, down to the ground and the civilization below.
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And as if on cue, he points at the famous HOLLYWOOD sign, tiny in the distance.
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There is a momentary jolt as they pass through a patch of rough air. "Just a little turbulence. Nothing to worry about."
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Quickly, she recovers herself, but she's back to sitting stiffly in the chair and clutching the arms. "Anyway, if the things that Pete watches are any indications, many of the movie people are quite clever."
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