The sky is cloudless and the day promises to be warm as the temperature is already climbing, reflecting off the black pavement of the parking lot. Letting the holoform dissolve back into pixels once it was inside the cabin, Knock Out waits until Rogue is settled and then pulls out of the truck stop.
But rather than merge back onto the interstate, he takes a paved secondary road that runs parallel for half a mile before it turns away into farmland. Like Iowa, the landscape is beguiling with long sloping hills and endless green, and they quickly leave the signs of the main thoroughfare behind for quiet countryside. There's less corn here and far more open fields, bisected by dark fences following the natural rises of the topography. Barns dot the vista, as do dark stands of trees, and many of the fields are occupied by cattle or horses.
It doesn't take long before they're in a much more rural area, and the only vehicle around. There's no point in putting this off any longer, much as Knock Out wishes otherwise.
"Early this morning, I gained access into the satellite data network," he begins carefully. "I've spent the last few hours catching up on things. Documentation regarding mutants started appearing about fifty years ago, and has... accelerated substantially since."
He has a better idea of why Rogue is so frightened, now. There's still a lot more information to go through, but he has more of a grasp on the severity of their situation. With no traffic in either direction on this small road, he pulls over to the shoulder, two wheels resting in the gravel, engine idling quietly in park.
"I also took a more focused scan on both of us. I'm not detecting any of the Porter nanites in either of us, and our Registration tattoos are gone."
He lets that statement hang in the air, but there is no way to soften what he has to say next. "My cartographic data was updated. Rogue... De Chima isn't on the map. None of the Porter cities appear to exist at all, and I can't find any kind of reference to imPorts anywhere."
no subject
But rather than merge back onto the interstate, he takes a paved secondary road that runs parallel for half a mile before it turns away into farmland. Like Iowa, the landscape is beguiling with long sloping hills and endless green, and they quickly leave the signs of the main thoroughfare behind for quiet countryside. There's less corn here and far more open fields, bisected by dark fences following the natural rises of the topography. Barns dot the vista, as do dark stands of trees, and many of the fields are occupied by cattle or horses.
It doesn't take long before they're in a much more rural area, and the only vehicle around. There's no point in putting this off any longer, much as Knock Out wishes otherwise.
"Early this morning, I gained access into the satellite data network," he begins carefully. "I've spent the last few hours catching up on things. Documentation regarding mutants started appearing about fifty years ago, and has... accelerated substantially since."
He has a better idea of why Rogue is so frightened, now. There's still a lot more information to go through, but he has more of a grasp on the severity of their situation. With no traffic in either direction on this small road, he pulls over to the shoulder, two wheels resting in the gravel, engine idling quietly in park.
"I also took a more focused scan on both of us. I'm not detecting any of the Porter nanites in either of us, and our Registration tattoos are gone."
He lets that statement hang in the air, but there is no way to soften what he has to say next. "My cartographic data was updated. Rogue... De Chima isn't on the map. None of the Porter cities appear to exist at all, and I can't find any kind of reference to imPorts anywhere."