When It's Raining Amphibians
The roof of the foyer retracted and folded back to leave the tiled floor exposed to the elements. A routine maintainence check slated for 0600 hours that never took place. Leaving the foyer cold, wet, and smelling of mold and disuse. The two men who stood inside the foyer looking out a at a empty landscape were of differing opinions on most subjects including things like facility upkeep.
"Does it ever stop?" the younger on complained, brushing back his shoulder length brown hair, where it had become plastered to his metallic eye piece.
"Be grateful for the things you have and others do not," the older dark-haired man said, somehow able aing to appear dry and comfortable in the midst of the downpour.
"I'm not in the mood for one of your cryptic sayings," the other replied.
"Suit yourself, Scott." He shrugged his expressive shoulders, a lithe movement of the muscles underneath, the cowl of his dark clothing moving across them like the movement of a snake. There were times when even those of his most trusted confidants and leaders, such as Scott Summers and his brother Alex Summers, in Natahinel Essex more reflective moments, would liken his person to a snake; Mr. Sinister did not much care one way or the other, as long as results were achieved.
Scott's attention had been drawn by a sudden movement across the way and in a far patch of scraggly brush. "Something got stuck over there," he said, pointing in the indicated direction.
"Nothing to concern yourself with," Sinister replied.
"I can't get any wetter than I am already," Scott shrugged,'might as well check it out."
"Need an umbrella?"
"You have got to be kidding me, right?"
"Never let it be said that I don't have a sense of humor."
"I certainly won't breathe a word to anyone," Scott replied.
Scott darted out of the shelter of the foyer and knelt beside where he had the movement earlier, he pushed the obstruction of the foliaage, making a grab for the splash of green color he had seen move. He came up with a a critter by one slippery green leg. "It's a frog." he said, surprised.
At that instant several others landed on his head, plunked down with a splash all around him. They were of different colors and patterns, but they all appeared similar to the first one he had found, and still held dangling by its leg.
>From across the way, Sinister said over the noise of the rain, "Be careful, it might be posionous. Don't forget where we are."
"I'm surprised you care," Scott griped.
"It's raining frogs," Sinister said, moving closer to the spot where the first frog had been found. "I suspect the good Doctor McCoy may have had something to do with this phenomenon."
"I doubt he would bother with frogs. Maybe I should take it back and have the lab boys run some tests."
"Perhaps."
Scott thought about it a few more moments, and then released his prisoned frog back into the pile of the others. "Some phenomenon. I want to get back inside and check on the routine diagnoistic."
"As you wish," the older man nodded.