Transgenic: A Hybrid Heresy
By AntipodeanOpaleye
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from any other source either doesn't belong to me or is a purely coincidental occurrence. Anything that you've never seen probably belongs to me. I write for enjoyment and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: All right, this is my first Dark Angel fic, and it's set a few days after Freak Nation. It has mistakes, I know that, and if you could kindly point them out, I'd greatly appreciate it. This is going to turn out as M/A, if you don't like that pairing, I suggest you don't read, though I will say that I'll do my best to avoid Logan bashing; though I don't mind reading it, I'm probably not going to write it. If you read it, please review it; I love feedback, good or bad, just as long as it's relayed tactfully.
Also, if any one likes this fic enough, or is just completely obsessed with anything Dark Angel, I am looking for a beta reader. If you're interested, say so in a review.
Chapter One: Unconscious Mind
X5-494 was sitting in a cold, steel chair, arms and legs bound tightly. He was told to relax, that he'd be 'dealt with' soon enough. Somehow, at this point, he didn't find that prospect comforting. All he could think about was Rachel, and what he'd done to her.
By now, everyone of importance at Manticore had heard of X5-494's horrible failure, and for the most part, the news was somewhat disturbing, as this was the first known nonsuccess of the soldier that was considered Manticore's Finest. But for some reason beyond his knowledge, 494 didn't give a shit what his superiors thought of this 'mishap.' Oh yeah, he'd have hell to pay, he'd known that before he'd deliberately disobeyed orders, but at this point, he simply didn't care.
For the first time in his entire life, he felt that he'd done the right thing, that what he was being forced to do was wrong, and he'd finally had the initiative to try and make it right. But then, Rachel came to mind again, and at the mere thought of her his world came crashing down. The elated expression on her face when she saw him, the confusion as he'd explained why he was there; explained what he was. The fear in her eyes when she registered that she was his job, and undoubtedly the worst, the anger, the hate, the betrayal and the desperation that clouded her features, all directed to him. The woman that had shown him the first true love he'd ever known, the first true love he'd ever felt, and, ironically, been able to give back, even if it was a lie. That amazing woman was dead, as was her father, as far as 494 knew. And it was entirely his fault. It was all X5-494's fault.
He heard the footsteps approaching the chamber minutes before the door opened, so it was not surprise when the sudden opening of the large door in the corner didn't seem to faze him. He simply continued to stare straight ahead and maintain the trademark blank look that all of Manticore's soldiers wore; a symbol of their blind loyalty and their oblivious mindset to the fact that they were slaves. 494 had become an expert at pasting that expression on at a moment's notice when needed. Little did he know that that very look would not only be used more than he could have imagined in the years to come, but would also prove harder to convincingly plaster onto his features.
"Well, well, well, 494," said the woman with the platinum blonde hair, Renfro. He stared at her with a subtlety deadly gaze but remained silent. He refused to address unless he was forced to, refused to respect her after what she'd convinced him to do all of these years, refused to acknowledge her presence for what she'd help brainwash him to think, and to believe was correct, even if it was far from morally right. "You are quite the soldier from what I hear, but you seem to have a slight flaw," she paused to take a second to level herself with 494, so that she could look him in eye, stare him down face to face, "that has begun to cause us much distress." Renfro said this in the most sickening sweet voice and with the most adorable temperament a director of such a program would allow themselves to demonstrate, all in an attempt to get a reaction out of 494. So far, he hadn't shown any emotion since he'd been back at Manticore after the Berrisford Mission and the most his disposition had faltered was from a controlled, monotonous soldier to so deep in indecipherable individual thought that even the doctors and psychologists on site were intrigued. This display from Renfro failed to alter 494's status. Decisive on taking another approach at changing 494's nature, she took another shot.
"I'll be frank with you 494, I know that you aren't the mindless soldier you've tried to lead us to believe you are. But other than that, you are near perfect. You are faster, stronger, more intellectually advanced, and so much more skillful. You are the embodiment of what Manticore has always hoped to create." She delivered this oration in her normally blunt tone. She had simply gave him the truth; he was Manticore's finest, and his current failure was very disturbing to The Committee. He seemed unconvinced, and he was, so she divulged more information to the subject in front of her.
"I see you are not going to be easily swayed, 494. I assume you've heard of X5-599, one of our finest Commanding Officers, until he escaped. He was favored by many here at Manticore, yet there was one who was by far superior to him. You, 494, were and still are superior to 599, even if you had escaped at the same time as he with the same training as he and the others, you would have been by far superior. You are genetically superior to every one of Manticore's creations. Your most amazing trait is your evolved fighting abilities. You're able to use the simplest or the most complicated motions and add your own form to execute a quick victory over your opponent in such fluid movement, it's actually enjoyable to watch. You are the finest soldier we have. Do you want to know why 494?"
Elizabeth Renfro crouched in front of 494, awaiting his answer. 'She'll have to wait,' he thought, 'cause there's no way in hell I'm giving her the satisfaction of having my attention.' 494 concentrated harder on the wall opposite him and remained wordless. Renfro was disappointed in his premeditated disobedience, so she cut the conversation short.
"You, 494, are very unique. But, as you are so determined to undermine my authority, I'll leave you for Dr. Martier to deal with until our next meeting."
Renfro shot Dr. Martier a very pointed look, tilting her head casually at 494, and quickly left. She undoubtedly took a position behind the double- sided mirror that graced the wall 494 had been studying during the entire encounter. Martier briskly strode over to a large, digitally locked glass cabinet to the left of 494's chair and quickly punched in the code. With his enhanced peripheral vision, 494 saw the code as '9709547'. After opening the compartment door, Martier took out a large syringe filled with a clear liquid. 494 recognized the serial number on the tube, '773'; it was a temporary Manticore-made relaxant that they used on their soldiers to make them react to inquisition without control over what they say. In other words, no matter how badly a soldier wanted to keep a matter undisclosed, if they were subjected to the relaxant, it would slowly eat away at them until the medication caused them to loose control. Once the subject had lost all bearing, the drug would take full affect, forcing the soldier tell the Manticore doctors anything they wanted to know, usually relaying the desired information in a very disrespectful fashion. The doctor slowly walked to 494's side, injecting the relaxant into his bloodstream at the wrist. 494 didn't try to resist the inoculation and was still throughout the entire process. 494 remained expressionless as Dr. Martier extracted the long needle and approached the desk next to the chair that he was bound in.
"Well, 494, I have some questions I'd like to ask you before we get to your punishment." Martier said as her gently set the hypodermic aside. He sneered at 494, who continued to sit completely still. Martier knew perfectly well where to find the exact answer to every question he planned on asking, yet he was paid to ask the subject questions, in an attempt to weaken their concentration and defense so that the relaxant could take over. He sat down in the desk chair and sighed. "First, your designation and your Commanding Officer?" Martier tapped his pen rapidly against the clipboard on his lap.
494 decided he'd oblige in answering the question, so he abandoned his train of thought, erased all emotion from his face, and spoke in an eerily hollow tone.
"Commanding Officer X5-494." He deliberately left out the 'sir' at the end of his reply, which visibly angered Martier.
"Your full history at Manticore, 494?"
"Apart from basic Manticore training, participation in extensive instruction in Assassination, Field Medicine, Hand to Hand Combat, Battle Strategy, Weaponry, and Invasion was exceedingly successful. Mission specialty is Solo Missions. Special Solo Mission training includes Common Verbal Usage, as well as a variety of human interaction lessons and instruction in fine arts for Clandestine Solo Missions. One year spent in Psy-Ops for testing in comparison to the rouge X5-493 to confirm that 493's traitorous nature was not genetic. Successful completion of every solo mission, excepting the Berrisford Assignment." 494 stopped here, hitting a touchy subject that he didn't trust himself to continue with. He began to lose the ability to remain unconditionally emotionless, and his face fell momentarily at the thought of Rachel. He quickly wiped the devastation from his face and kept his eyes forward.
"And what, 494, led to the failure of the Berrisford Assignment?"
494 finally let his guard down, whipping his head around to face the doctor. This display, void entirely of any form of self-control and filled instead with emotions he wasn't even supposed to know of, let alone consciously feel, allowed the unbelievably strong relaxant he'd been injected with earlier take full control over 494's self-discipline. His eyes screamed of the self-doubt and misery that was killing 494 inside mingled with the pure hate that he felt toward the man in front of him and everything that man stood for. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white, displaying as much control as a Manticore soldier possessed, restraining himself from simply choking the man to death. His voice dripped with malice as he replied to Dr. Martier question that it made the doctor flinch.
"I believe, Doctor, that it's none of your damn business what caused the mission to result in circumstances that you and your bastard superiors found unfavorable." 494 said pointedly, referring to himself as 'I' for the first time in the conversation. Manticore truly hated it when their soldiers thought as themselves as individuals worthy of anything more than a number and an occasional alias for solo missions. He shot Martier a bone chilling glare, getting angrier by the second.
"Unfortunately enough for you, 494, it doesn't matter what you think. It only matters what I think, and I think that you should tell me what went wrong with the Berrisford Mission." Martier scowled, waiting expectantly for 494 to give up the disobedience and answer his question like a good little soldier. Then he remembered the relaxant's effects and an evil smirk creased the doctor's lips as he waited with renewed patience for 494's reply.
"Nothing went wrong with the Berrisford Mission that was a result of my actions." 494's hostility had tripled, but he replied in a disturbingly casual manner. "I'm sure your confused, doctor. I think I'll be generous enough to explain. I tried to right the terrible wrong that was tainting the mission. Manticore resorted back to their old ways and screwed the mission over, along with my efforts to make the mission a success. So, in short, the assignments downfall was the fault of your own men."
"And would you be so kind as to enlighten me by telling me what was so wrong with your mission requirements?"
494 was apprehensive; he really wasn't sure if he should tell Dr. Martier his take on the situation. 'Hey, what the hell?' he thought. 'You've already pissed him off to the point of no return, why not finish the job?' So he slapped on a facial expression the screamed sarcasm and responded to the question.
"Well now, doc," 494 drawled in his best smart-ass tone, "I'm just a lowly genetically engineered soldier in a covert government lab. Do you really want my opinion on such a hot topic?"
"Yes, 494, I'm interested." It was obvious that Dr. Martier was in fact interested, and also about to loose his cool. He was turning red and beginning to sweat in anger. This brought a swift grin to 494's face.
"Alright, Doc, here's the deal." 494's eyes swept over the man sitting at his side before he continued. "On the outside, in the 'real world', there are two main ways to categorize one's actions: Right or Wrong. On my Solo Mission, I learned a little more than even I would have liked to learn about "Right and Wrong." I didn't want to hear it, because if what they were saying was true, everything I'd ever done was morally wrong. But I heard it anyway, and I realized that once you know what right and wrong are, you're the only one who can decide in which way you wish to execute the tasks you're given. So, like I said, I tried to right the mission; I got the information that was needed, and then tried to prevent anyone from getting hurt unnecessarily. Only Manticore decided to put their two sense into the project and screw things up." He stopped here to think, and quickly added, "Yeah, that about covers it."
As the relaxant began to wear off, as it tended to do somewhat quickly in the X series, 494 found himself momentarily surprised at the way he completely denied authority in such an openly disrespectful manor. In the past, he'd been pretty reliable when it came to discipline. The look on Dr. Martier's face when 494 was finished, however, deemed the entire process worthwhile, in his normal smart aleck opinion, which no one knew about, at least. Dr. Martier was shocked at the outspoken manner in which 494 had addressed him, even under the influence of the relaxant. 494 must have acquired an undisclosed, yet exceedingly flagrant personality on his solo missions for him to act so blatantly. The doctor was speechless, and as he remained so for the next few moments, 494 took the liberty to rekindle the predominately one-sided conversation.
"So, doc, now that I'm done answering all of your little inquiries, can we move on to what your going to do to me? I'm thinking, reindoctrination?"
It was a few moments before Dr. Martier responded to the soldier.
"494," Martier addressed his subject harshly, yet incredibly amazed at the unknown progression of the subject from emotionless soldier to almost human. "You seem different. You aren't just a soldier. I think I could say you were almost human, excepting that barcode on you neck that labels you for who you really are. I'm not certified to continue with you, considering this new discovery in your personality. But, I am authorized to send you into isolation until we have the personnel to deal with your character defect." The doctor nonchalantly pressed a button on the desk and called for assistance in removing X5-494 from training and into isolation. 494 swallowed the lump in his throat; he'd heard about isolation, it was supposedly one of the worse forms of torture Manticore had thought up. He'd never been in it, but when one of the younger X5's in his squadron had been sent there for inattentive behavior when they were kids and came back after a month, he'd heard of the nightmares that became reality in that form of punishment. The victim had described the experiences so graphically; it was enough to stir fright in even the toughest soldier. Especially at night, as these were part of the after-hours talks 494 had secretly participated in his youth.
494 shivered as he heard the back up enter the room and he tensed as he obediently allowed them to drag him away into the unknown. He allowed himself to drag lifelessly on the floor behind the men, his body being whipped around, violently smacking into the wall with every turn. When they'd finally reached their destination, the two men flanking 494 threw him into a small, empty compartment without light or ventilation, as far as he could see. The men closed and locked the door, forbidding all light from outside sources.
494 began to feel a cold stab of fear, and he angrily kicked the floor. It was then that he heard a strange howl from below him, and the scratching of claws on the surface underneath. Without warning, a large paw broke the metal flooring and began to feel around its hole blindly. Instinctively, 494 got into his warrior mindset and quickly tore at the paw, becoming more violent by the second, and eventually ripped it off in fury. The creature yelped as 494 threw the appendage down the hole and moved to the far end of the room.
He curled up in a ball in the corner, desolately preparing for the horrible things to come. Once again, Rachel came to mind, and a single silent teardrop ran down 494's face for the very first time. It was, at that point, the most frightening thing he'd ever experienced; to feel so lost and devastated. He screamed in agony, but knew that it was no use. He buried his head in his hands, not knowing how he was going to survive, only knowing that he had to. He had to.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In a chemically hazardous section of Seattle known as Terminal City, the man named Alec woke with a start. What caused him to wake so fearfully was the most current of the many nightmares he had that forced him to relive his horrible past, the past that linked him the assassin, the murderer, the cold blooded killer that was still in the back of his mind. That connected him to the soldier he used to be, yet still very much was. That connected him to X5-494, and to Manticore.
Alec's breathing was erratic and uneven, his heartbeat racing, sweat forming on his forehead. He tried to calm himself, but knew from experience that it was never that easy. He was having these dreams more and more frequently. He'd had very rarely when he'd just gotten out of Manticore, one or twice when he'd settled into Seattle, every so often when he'd moved in with Joshua, but never like this. He'd been having at about one every night since he'd moved into Terminal City with Josh, Mole, and the rest of the gang, as he was one of the few X's that slept almost every night. But now, two nights after the Jam Pony incident, he'd already outdone himself. He'd never seen his past so vividly, heard the words so clearly, never felt the pain so intensely. It genuinely scared him.
'That's not the only thing scaring you.'
Alec had been inwardly frightened over many issues lately. About Max, about her and Logan, about all of the transgenics, and most shockingly, his own sanity. He'd begun to feel things, like remorse, happiness, and real fear while he'd been on the outside, and they were strange at times, but now, he realized that there were other things bothering him. Like how he was always dreaming of his failures, and his most horrific experiences at Manticore. They all seemed to connect him to his long lost psycho-killing brother he'd never met, Ben. Not that anyone else knew about these thoughts, of course. Some suspected he wasn't as 'fine' as he seemed, but they couldn't prove it. The carefully erected mask Alec always wore barely faltered, and it fooled almost everyone. But today he was going to find a place where he could be alone, outside Terminal City, if at all possible, and try and sort through these thoughts. But first he had something he needed to take care of.
Alec quietly made his way over to the chair near his bed where his clothes had been draped, grabbing his cell, rolling his eyes when he realized that it was only 12:52 AM. He quickly dressed in a black tee shirt and dark jeans. He slipped his leather jacket over his shoulders, ran a hand through his hair, and walked out the door. He took care to descend the stairs quietly as not to wake the other occupants of the building, including Max, Mole and Joshua, as well as a few more of Terminal City's occupants.
Alec walked silently into Command, the usually bustling room now deserted excepting himself and the sleeping forms of Sketchy, Original Cindy, and Mr. Do-Gooder himself, Logan. Alec approached Logan and the others cautiously and gently shook them all awake.
"Rise and shine," Alec said softly, waiting for each of them to wake up enough for him to explain why he was there. When each in turn acknowledged his presence, he finally clarified the reason he was there at one in the morning.
"I hate to wake you all up at this hour," he said sincerely, as he'd been woken up so often by his plaguing nightmares and knew that it wasn't the best case scenario, "but if we're gonna get you out of here without attracting much attention." He paused and looked at the three distractedly, meeting their confused expressions. "You all know that you can't stay here. For health reasons mainly, but also because." He trailed off, trying to find a way to put his thoughts into words, "things are just going to get more and more dangerous, and some of the things that could happen are definitely not safe you any you." He glanced at them, Sketchy and OC nodding dejectedly. But Logan, no, he wasn't going to be led out of Terminal City so easily.
"Alec," Logan said forcefully, his gaze showing the contempt he felt for the transgenic in front of him, "The blood transfusion from Joshua will prevent me from being effected by the chemicals. Anyway, I don't really think I should leave yet, you might need my help in the days to come."
Alec was not in the mood. "Look, Logan, we can't afford to take the chance that immunity to bio-warfare wasn't one of the traits you acquired. You can contact us from Joshua's."
"Alec," Logan retaliated, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself while I'm here. If I get sick, I'll leave then."
"Look, Logan. I for one appreciate your help. But you aren't a transgenic. You aren't one of us. And if something happens, you may not be able to properly defend yourself. You have to leave, and you have to stay away, at least for now." Alec was preoccupied with his own problems, and didn't need to have Logan questioning him with his know-it-all attitude at the moment.
"Alec," Logan reasoned, "I'm too involved with this mess not to stay. I just want to help, and if I'm willing to stay, I think you should stop fighting my motives and let me." Logan was getting a bit perturbed with Alec, and in the back of his mind thought that perhaps Alec wanted him out so that he could be alone with Max.
"I'm not going to sit here and argue with you like a child, Logan. We need to leave now if you don't want to get caught by the vigilantes, and as you saw at Jam Pony, my bullet wound has hindered my fighting abilities, and as it still hasn't healed completely. We need to leave immediately so that we can avoid as much resistance at the exit as we can." Alec turned and motioned for them to follow him. He scurried unseen along the perimeter of Terminal City, looking back to make sure everyone kept up. Sketchy and OC looked depressed, yet conformed to the idea of leaving for their own good. Logan, on the other hand, had simply convinced himself that it was for the best if he left for now, and followed reluctantly.
Alec reached the exit that he'd been headed for, one of the openings that only he knew of, on the southwest side of the City. It seemed that there were only a few people at this exit, ones that were apparently simply trekking a circular path around the area.
"We try to get through without attracting their attention," Alec said to the others, not bothering to indicate whom he was speaking of. "If they see us, you three run in there," he pointed to a tall building across the way, one that he'd been to and knew for a fact was deserted, "and I'll take care of any spectators. You wait just inside the doors until I come and get you. Understand?" They all nodded and Alec began to sneak across the street along the wall of the nearest structure.
Alec made it across first and Sketchy came next, both without any problem. OC looked at the men watching the perimeter and quickly dashed across. That left Logan, who glanced around as Original Cindy had, and began to run. Only his escape wasn't flawless as the others were. He still wore his exoskeleton, and the small noise it made attracted one of the nearer men's attention, and before Logan could reach the shadows, he was seen.
"FREAKS!" The man screamed into the night and the other men turned and took a shot at a defenseless Logan.
Alec ran out in a blur and shoved Logan toward OC and Sketchy before he could take a bullet, and managed to avoid getting shot himself. He ran to the nearest attacker, there was approximately five in all, grabbed his gun, flung in out of sight, and forcefully threw his body in to brick wall that stood behind him. The next three men were dealt with in similar ways all in the blink of an eye, yet the fifth offender was no normal human. He caught the eye of the middle-aged man and tilted his head questioningly, yet warily.
"Transgenic slime! You unnatural piece of filth!" The man, obviously a Familiar, charged wildly at Alec, which was no surprise for the transgenic; he could read the man's intentions from the time that Alec had approached him.
Alec and the Familiar moved fluidly, and they were each so knowledgeable in their fighting style that it was hard to get an attack in edgewise. Logan, OC, and Sketchy all watch him mesmerized. Not one of them had seen such a demonstration of sheer power.
Alec skillfully blocked all of the Familiar's attacks, from an attempt at a powerful blow to his chest, enough to have at least broken a few ribs, to a close shave with a fist aimed at his face. He struck back with a combination of flawless and fluid motions, and almost half of them squarely hit the Familiar. Alec sidestepped the man's left hook and countered with a forceful blow to his stomach. The man doubled over from the momentum of the attack. Taking advantage of the Familiar's momentary lack of attention, Alec put the man in an unbreakable headlock and choked him for a few seconds to display his power.
"What do you want from us? What do you want from 452?" Alec used Max's designation instead of her name as to avoid any misunderstanding on the Familiar's part. When the man remained silent, Alec tightened his grip on the man's neck and went for a less direct approach.
"What are you doing here?" Alec asked, allowing his grasp on the Familiar's throat to slip so that the man could respond.
"You'll find out," the man said mysteriously, and released himself from Alec's detached hold on him and ran toward the opening to Terminal City that Alec had just left.
Alec couldn't control his next actions, so he thoughtlessly displayed to Logan, Original Cindy, and Sketchy why Alec was known as Manticore's Finest and a top-notch fighter back in the day.
Alec lunged at the Familiar, grabbing him around the middle. He threw the man violently across the street and ran in a blur to where he landed. Alec mutilated his opponent, who refused to put up a fight, do to his shock at the position he was currently in. Alec nonchalantly broke the majority of his limbs, and then returned to the inquisition he'd left unfinished.
"You'd think that snake blood would give you a little more stamina," Alec muttered sarcastically, but then he turned lethal. "I'll ask you again," Alec said in a deadly tone, "Why are you here?"
"I can't tell you that, but you'll find soon enough what we want, and why."
Alec grabbed the man's neck once again, only more forcefully this time.
"That doesn't work for me." Alec had become frustrated. He knew this man had to have been watching the Transgenics, scouting the area, and reporting the information to the breeding cult. He couldn't be allowed to get away. "Any last words?" The man remained silent.
As much as Alec didn't want to kill the man, as wrong as he knew it was, he felt that he had to. Too many of his own kind had fallen or critically wounded at the merciless hands of this man, and those like him. He couldn't live.
Alec forced himself to break the man's neck with one intense movement, not knowing that he killed the Familiar by the same means his twin had been killed, and in the same mindset; wishing there was another way. He stood up with the dead man at his feet, wiped his face with his right forearm; the Familiar's blood mingled with the transgenic's sweat now smeared lightly on his arms. He hung his head, crossed his arms, and lifted his eyes to survey the scene. 'It had to be done,' he reminded himself.
He forgot about the three ordinaries watching, forgot about anyone who may be coming to check the area at that very moment, forgot to be a soldier. He just looked around and saw, truly saw, what was happening to the world around him, the world that hated him, that he didn't belong in, and what that world was doing to his own kind.
Looking at the men he'd knocked unconscious earlier, hoping that they'd come around, eventually, without too much disorientation, though not enough awareness to identify him, and then at the one dead man in front of him, Alec sighed. He felt guilty, sad, angry, and scared to hell all at the same time. If this was what a night watch had turned out to be, what would the days be like? And how long would the transgenics be able to hold out against an entire nation who wanted them dead? The thought triggered a mental image from when Biggs was killed, and the questions that had ran thought his head that night returned to him then. Why do they hate us? What did we ever do to them? Why do they want us dead so desperately? And most importantly, were they next? Would he, Max, and the others be the next to be killed and hung for public display? Some of the thoughts were juvenile, some were unanswerable, and some were irrelevant, but he still thought them nonetheless.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reluctantly pulled himself out of his personal reverie. He surveyed the scene once again, feeling that he should address the turmoil and chaos in some way. 'Damn Conscience,' Alec thought to himself, knowing that if it hadn't been for Max instilling such a thing into him, he'd be able to walk away with a feeling of uncertainty, one that had filled him during every mission after the Berrisford Assignment, but without openly addressing the situation. Not knowing any other appropriate approach, he stood at ease and, feeling that saluting was taking it too far, took one last look at the bodies around him, feeling uneasy at his reaction to the predicament. 'Get them home,' he thought, remembering the three people standing in the shadows, watching his every move, 'then you can sort out your own life.' He turned, and sauntered over to his charges, who had stayed outside of the building to watch Alec, disobeying his orders.
'Orders don't mean the same thing to them as they do to you. They weren't punished if they didn't follow every order given to them, if they didn't execute a mission perfectly, if they didn't succeed.' It was then that Alec brought himself to look at the expressions on each of their faces.
Original Cindy looked shocked at how her friend Alec so easily took control of such a situation, with such authority and command, but also a bit disturbed at how the whole thing played out.
Sketchy was more shocked than OC, but looked actually excited to have a friend who could take someone out so smoothly and without a struggle.
Logan, on the other hand, looked torn between a mixture of emotions, anger at Alec for not letting him fend for himself, gratitude toward Alec for saving his ass, shock at the way Alec had handled the situation, and confusion as to why Alec looked so guilty and embarrassed. After all, he'd probably just saved their lives.
"Sorry you had to see that," Alec muttered, looking at his feet. "Let's get to Joshua's house before we attract any more unwanted attention." With that, Alec sidled in the direction of Josh's street.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After about an hour of trekking through abandoned streets, dark alleys, and, Alec's personal favorite, the amazingly repulsive sewers, the group reached Joshua's house. Alec walked with them to door, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking down at his feet like a schoolboy. He was still uneasy with his display outside Terminal City. He said nothing as he waited for someone to enter the house, confirming that they had made it home safely. OC bravely broke the silence.
"Alec," she said, concern lacing her words, "you take care of ya-self, ya hear?" She hugged him and, to her surprise, he returned the gesture. He looked her in the eye and, before letting go of her, said something he'd been wanting to since that day at Jam Pony.
"OC?" He wasn't sure how to say it, so he winged it. "Thanks. Thanks, for everything. For accepting me, us, even when you knew what we were. Now, more than ever, it means a lot."
She seemed taken aback at Alec's sudden and unwarranted display of gratitude, as clumsily as it had come across. She looked back at him, replying to his statement.
"Alec, ya are who ya are. You, Max, even ya dog boy Joshua, you're family. Don't forget it."
Alec nodded silently, not sure what to say, and feeling unbelievably awkward. He moved onto Sketchy.
"Look, Sketch, I.I'm sorry for not telling you who, and what, I really was."
"No sweat, Alec." Sketchy said to Alec, "It's all good."
"Thanks," Alec said, bidding farewell to Sketchy as OC dragged him into the house, leaving Logan and Alec alone.
"Alec," Logan made the first move, but Alec stopped him.
"Logan, I know you wanted to stay in TC, but I think you of all people can understand all of the reasons why you can't. I've got somewhere to be, so I'll see ya round." Alec flew down the steps and out of sight in a few seconds, leaving Logan to stare after him, speechless, and finally walk into the house to join OC and Sketchy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Alec had abruptly left Josh's house, truly wanting to get away from civilization for as long as possible in order to come to terms with what had become of his reality. And there was, of course, only one place in which this could be done properly, only one place where this could be executed appropriately. Without knowing where his body was leading him, Alec found himself staring up at a tall, almost intimidating creation. It seemed to be in the nature of X5's to be attracted to high places. He sighed deeply, and dejectedly climbed the oh-so-familiar Space Needle.
A/N: Should I keep going? Please Tell Me! I know this is a bit slow, but hey, there are very few first chapters that aren't. Also, I know Alec might seem a bit out of character, but just remember that 1.) He's thinking these things, they're completely private, and 2.) If Alec's confused with his thoughts, until he gets them sorted out, you will be too.
Anyway, R/R, Thanks!
-AntipodeanOpaleye
By AntipodeanOpaleye
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from any other source either doesn't belong to me or is a purely coincidental occurrence. Anything that you've never seen probably belongs to me. I write for enjoyment and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: All right, this is my first Dark Angel fic, and it's set a few days after Freak Nation. It has mistakes, I know that, and if you could kindly point them out, I'd greatly appreciate it. This is going to turn out as M/A, if you don't like that pairing, I suggest you don't read, though I will say that I'll do my best to avoid Logan bashing; though I don't mind reading it, I'm probably not going to write it. If you read it, please review it; I love feedback, good or bad, just as long as it's relayed tactfully.
Also, if any one likes this fic enough, or is just completely obsessed with anything Dark Angel, I am looking for a beta reader. If you're interested, say so in a review.
Chapter One: Unconscious Mind
X5-494 was sitting in a cold, steel chair, arms and legs bound tightly. He was told to relax, that he'd be 'dealt with' soon enough. Somehow, at this point, he didn't find that prospect comforting. All he could think about was Rachel, and what he'd done to her.
By now, everyone of importance at Manticore had heard of X5-494's horrible failure, and for the most part, the news was somewhat disturbing, as this was the first known nonsuccess of the soldier that was considered Manticore's Finest. But for some reason beyond his knowledge, 494 didn't give a shit what his superiors thought of this 'mishap.' Oh yeah, he'd have hell to pay, he'd known that before he'd deliberately disobeyed orders, but at this point, he simply didn't care.
For the first time in his entire life, he felt that he'd done the right thing, that what he was being forced to do was wrong, and he'd finally had the initiative to try and make it right. But then, Rachel came to mind again, and at the mere thought of her his world came crashing down. The elated expression on her face when she saw him, the confusion as he'd explained why he was there; explained what he was. The fear in her eyes when she registered that she was his job, and undoubtedly the worst, the anger, the hate, the betrayal and the desperation that clouded her features, all directed to him. The woman that had shown him the first true love he'd ever known, the first true love he'd ever felt, and, ironically, been able to give back, even if it was a lie. That amazing woman was dead, as was her father, as far as 494 knew. And it was entirely his fault. It was all X5-494's fault.
He heard the footsteps approaching the chamber minutes before the door opened, so it was not surprise when the sudden opening of the large door in the corner didn't seem to faze him. He simply continued to stare straight ahead and maintain the trademark blank look that all of Manticore's soldiers wore; a symbol of their blind loyalty and their oblivious mindset to the fact that they were slaves. 494 had become an expert at pasting that expression on at a moment's notice when needed. Little did he know that that very look would not only be used more than he could have imagined in the years to come, but would also prove harder to convincingly plaster onto his features.
"Well, well, well, 494," said the woman with the platinum blonde hair, Renfro. He stared at her with a subtlety deadly gaze but remained silent. He refused to address unless he was forced to, refused to respect her after what she'd convinced him to do all of these years, refused to acknowledge her presence for what she'd help brainwash him to think, and to believe was correct, even if it was far from morally right. "You are quite the soldier from what I hear, but you seem to have a slight flaw," she paused to take a second to level herself with 494, so that she could look him in eye, stare him down face to face, "that has begun to cause us much distress." Renfro said this in the most sickening sweet voice and with the most adorable temperament a director of such a program would allow themselves to demonstrate, all in an attempt to get a reaction out of 494. So far, he hadn't shown any emotion since he'd been back at Manticore after the Berrisford Mission and the most his disposition had faltered was from a controlled, monotonous soldier to so deep in indecipherable individual thought that even the doctors and psychologists on site were intrigued. This display from Renfro failed to alter 494's status. Decisive on taking another approach at changing 494's nature, she took another shot.
"I'll be frank with you 494, I know that you aren't the mindless soldier you've tried to lead us to believe you are. But other than that, you are near perfect. You are faster, stronger, more intellectually advanced, and so much more skillful. You are the embodiment of what Manticore has always hoped to create." She delivered this oration in her normally blunt tone. She had simply gave him the truth; he was Manticore's finest, and his current failure was very disturbing to The Committee. He seemed unconvinced, and he was, so she divulged more information to the subject in front of her.
"I see you are not going to be easily swayed, 494. I assume you've heard of X5-599, one of our finest Commanding Officers, until he escaped. He was favored by many here at Manticore, yet there was one who was by far superior to him. You, 494, were and still are superior to 599, even if you had escaped at the same time as he with the same training as he and the others, you would have been by far superior. You are genetically superior to every one of Manticore's creations. Your most amazing trait is your evolved fighting abilities. You're able to use the simplest or the most complicated motions and add your own form to execute a quick victory over your opponent in such fluid movement, it's actually enjoyable to watch. You are the finest soldier we have. Do you want to know why 494?"
Elizabeth Renfro crouched in front of 494, awaiting his answer. 'She'll have to wait,' he thought, 'cause there's no way in hell I'm giving her the satisfaction of having my attention.' 494 concentrated harder on the wall opposite him and remained wordless. Renfro was disappointed in his premeditated disobedience, so she cut the conversation short.
"You, 494, are very unique. But, as you are so determined to undermine my authority, I'll leave you for Dr. Martier to deal with until our next meeting."
Renfro shot Dr. Martier a very pointed look, tilting her head casually at 494, and quickly left. She undoubtedly took a position behind the double- sided mirror that graced the wall 494 had been studying during the entire encounter. Martier briskly strode over to a large, digitally locked glass cabinet to the left of 494's chair and quickly punched in the code. With his enhanced peripheral vision, 494 saw the code as '9709547'. After opening the compartment door, Martier took out a large syringe filled with a clear liquid. 494 recognized the serial number on the tube, '773'; it was a temporary Manticore-made relaxant that they used on their soldiers to make them react to inquisition without control over what they say. In other words, no matter how badly a soldier wanted to keep a matter undisclosed, if they were subjected to the relaxant, it would slowly eat away at them until the medication caused them to loose control. Once the subject had lost all bearing, the drug would take full affect, forcing the soldier tell the Manticore doctors anything they wanted to know, usually relaying the desired information in a very disrespectful fashion. The doctor slowly walked to 494's side, injecting the relaxant into his bloodstream at the wrist. 494 didn't try to resist the inoculation and was still throughout the entire process. 494 remained expressionless as Dr. Martier extracted the long needle and approached the desk next to the chair that he was bound in.
"Well, 494, I have some questions I'd like to ask you before we get to your punishment." Martier said as her gently set the hypodermic aside. He sneered at 494, who continued to sit completely still. Martier knew perfectly well where to find the exact answer to every question he planned on asking, yet he was paid to ask the subject questions, in an attempt to weaken their concentration and defense so that the relaxant could take over. He sat down in the desk chair and sighed. "First, your designation and your Commanding Officer?" Martier tapped his pen rapidly against the clipboard on his lap.
494 decided he'd oblige in answering the question, so he abandoned his train of thought, erased all emotion from his face, and spoke in an eerily hollow tone.
"Commanding Officer X5-494." He deliberately left out the 'sir' at the end of his reply, which visibly angered Martier.
"Your full history at Manticore, 494?"
"Apart from basic Manticore training, participation in extensive instruction in Assassination, Field Medicine, Hand to Hand Combat, Battle Strategy, Weaponry, and Invasion was exceedingly successful. Mission specialty is Solo Missions. Special Solo Mission training includes Common Verbal Usage, as well as a variety of human interaction lessons and instruction in fine arts for Clandestine Solo Missions. One year spent in Psy-Ops for testing in comparison to the rouge X5-493 to confirm that 493's traitorous nature was not genetic. Successful completion of every solo mission, excepting the Berrisford Assignment." 494 stopped here, hitting a touchy subject that he didn't trust himself to continue with. He began to lose the ability to remain unconditionally emotionless, and his face fell momentarily at the thought of Rachel. He quickly wiped the devastation from his face and kept his eyes forward.
"And what, 494, led to the failure of the Berrisford Assignment?"
494 finally let his guard down, whipping his head around to face the doctor. This display, void entirely of any form of self-control and filled instead with emotions he wasn't even supposed to know of, let alone consciously feel, allowed the unbelievably strong relaxant he'd been injected with earlier take full control over 494's self-discipline. His eyes screamed of the self-doubt and misery that was killing 494 inside mingled with the pure hate that he felt toward the man in front of him and everything that man stood for. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white, displaying as much control as a Manticore soldier possessed, restraining himself from simply choking the man to death. His voice dripped with malice as he replied to Dr. Martier question that it made the doctor flinch.
"I believe, Doctor, that it's none of your damn business what caused the mission to result in circumstances that you and your bastard superiors found unfavorable." 494 said pointedly, referring to himself as 'I' for the first time in the conversation. Manticore truly hated it when their soldiers thought as themselves as individuals worthy of anything more than a number and an occasional alias for solo missions. He shot Martier a bone chilling glare, getting angrier by the second.
"Unfortunately enough for you, 494, it doesn't matter what you think. It only matters what I think, and I think that you should tell me what went wrong with the Berrisford Mission." Martier scowled, waiting expectantly for 494 to give up the disobedience and answer his question like a good little soldier. Then he remembered the relaxant's effects and an evil smirk creased the doctor's lips as he waited with renewed patience for 494's reply.
"Nothing went wrong with the Berrisford Mission that was a result of my actions." 494's hostility had tripled, but he replied in a disturbingly casual manner. "I'm sure your confused, doctor. I think I'll be generous enough to explain. I tried to right the terrible wrong that was tainting the mission. Manticore resorted back to their old ways and screwed the mission over, along with my efforts to make the mission a success. So, in short, the assignments downfall was the fault of your own men."
"And would you be so kind as to enlighten me by telling me what was so wrong with your mission requirements?"
494 was apprehensive; he really wasn't sure if he should tell Dr. Martier his take on the situation. 'Hey, what the hell?' he thought. 'You've already pissed him off to the point of no return, why not finish the job?' So he slapped on a facial expression the screamed sarcasm and responded to the question.
"Well now, doc," 494 drawled in his best smart-ass tone, "I'm just a lowly genetically engineered soldier in a covert government lab. Do you really want my opinion on such a hot topic?"
"Yes, 494, I'm interested." It was obvious that Dr. Martier was in fact interested, and also about to loose his cool. He was turning red and beginning to sweat in anger. This brought a swift grin to 494's face.
"Alright, Doc, here's the deal." 494's eyes swept over the man sitting at his side before he continued. "On the outside, in the 'real world', there are two main ways to categorize one's actions: Right or Wrong. On my Solo Mission, I learned a little more than even I would have liked to learn about "Right and Wrong." I didn't want to hear it, because if what they were saying was true, everything I'd ever done was morally wrong. But I heard it anyway, and I realized that once you know what right and wrong are, you're the only one who can decide in which way you wish to execute the tasks you're given. So, like I said, I tried to right the mission; I got the information that was needed, and then tried to prevent anyone from getting hurt unnecessarily. Only Manticore decided to put their two sense into the project and screw things up." He stopped here to think, and quickly added, "Yeah, that about covers it."
As the relaxant began to wear off, as it tended to do somewhat quickly in the X series, 494 found himself momentarily surprised at the way he completely denied authority in such an openly disrespectful manor. In the past, he'd been pretty reliable when it came to discipline. The look on Dr. Martier's face when 494 was finished, however, deemed the entire process worthwhile, in his normal smart aleck opinion, which no one knew about, at least. Dr. Martier was shocked at the outspoken manner in which 494 had addressed him, even under the influence of the relaxant. 494 must have acquired an undisclosed, yet exceedingly flagrant personality on his solo missions for him to act so blatantly. The doctor was speechless, and as he remained so for the next few moments, 494 took the liberty to rekindle the predominately one-sided conversation.
"So, doc, now that I'm done answering all of your little inquiries, can we move on to what your going to do to me? I'm thinking, reindoctrination?"
It was a few moments before Dr. Martier responded to the soldier.
"494," Martier addressed his subject harshly, yet incredibly amazed at the unknown progression of the subject from emotionless soldier to almost human. "You seem different. You aren't just a soldier. I think I could say you were almost human, excepting that barcode on you neck that labels you for who you really are. I'm not certified to continue with you, considering this new discovery in your personality. But, I am authorized to send you into isolation until we have the personnel to deal with your character defect." The doctor nonchalantly pressed a button on the desk and called for assistance in removing X5-494 from training and into isolation. 494 swallowed the lump in his throat; he'd heard about isolation, it was supposedly one of the worse forms of torture Manticore had thought up. He'd never been in it, but when one of the younger X5's in his squadron had been sent there for inattentive behavior when they were kids and came back after a month, he'd heard of the nightmares that became reality in that form of punishment. The victim had described the experiences so graphically; it was enough to stir fright in even the toughest soldier. Especially at night, as these were part of the after-hours talks 494 had secretly participated in his youth.
494 shivered as he heard the back up enter the room and he tensed as he obediently allowed them to drag him away into the unknown. He allowed himself to drag lifelessly on the floor behind the men, his body being whipped around, violently smacking into the wall with every turn. When they'd finally reached their destination, the two men flanking 494 threw him into a small, empty compartment without light or ventilation, as far as he could see. The men closed and locked the door, forbidding all light from outside sources.
494 began to feel a cold stab of fear, and he angrily kicked the floor. It was then that he heard a strange howl from below him, and the scratching of claws on the surface underneath. Without warning, a large paw broke the metal flooring and began to feel around its hole blindly. Instinctively, 494 got into his warrior mindset and quickly tore at the paw, becoming more violent by the second, and eventually ripped it off in fury. The creature yelped as 494 threw the appendage down the hole and moved to the far end of the room.
He curled up in a ball in the corner, desolately preparing for the horrible things to come. Once again, Rachel came to mind, and a single silent teardrop ran down 494's face for the very first time. It was, at that point, the most frightening thing he'd ever experienced; to feel so lost and devastated. He screamed in agony, but knew that it was no use. He buried his head in his hands, not knowing how he was going to survive, only knowing that he had to. He had to.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In a chemically hazardous section of Seattle known as Terminal City, the man named Alec woke with a start. What caused him to wake so fearfully was the most current of the many nightmares he had that forced him to relive his horrible past, the past that linked him the assassin, the murderer, the cold blooded killer that was still in the back of his mind. That connected him to the soldier he used to be, yet still very much was. That connected him to X5-494, and to Manticore.
Alec's breathing was erratic and uneven, his heartbeat racing, sweat forming on his forehead. He tried to calm himself, but knew from experience that it was never that easy. He was having these dreams more and more frequently. He'd had very rarely when he'd just gotten out of Manticore, one or twice when he'd settled into Seattle, every so often when he'd moved in with Joshua, but never like this. He'd been having at about one every night since he'd moved into Terminal City with Josh, Mole, and the rest of the gang, as he was one of the few X's that slept almost every night. But now, two nights after the Jam Pony incident, he'd already outdone himself. He'd never seen his past so vividly, heard the words so clearly, never felt the pain so intensely. It genuinely scared him.
'That's not the only thing scaring you.'
Alec had been inwardly frightened over many issues lately. About Max, about her and Logan, about all of the transgenics, and most shockingly, his own sanity. He'd begun to feel things, like remorse, happiness, and real fear while he'd been on the outside, and they were strange at times, but now, he realized that there were other things bothering him. Like how he was always dreaming of his failures, and his most horrific experiences at Manticore. They all seemed to connect him to his long lost psycho-killing brother he'd never met, Ben. Not that anyone else knew about these thoughts, of course. Some suspected he wasn't as 'fine' as he seemed, but they couldn't prove it. The carefully erected mask Alec always wore barely faltered, and it fooled almost everyone. But today he was going to find a place where he could be alone, outside Terminal City, if at all possible, and try and sort through these thoughts. But first he had something he needed to take care of.
Alec quietly made his way over to the chair near his bed where his clothes had been draped, grabbing his cell, rolling his eyes when he realized that it was only 12:52 AM. He quickly dressed in a black tee shirt and dark jeans. He slipped his leather jacket over his shoulders, ran a hand through his hair, and walked out the door. He took care to descend the stairs quietly as not to wake the other occupants of the building, including Max, Mole and Joshua, as well as a few more of Terminal City's occupants.
Alec walked silently into Command, the usually bustling room now deserted excepting himself and the sleeping forms of Sketchy, Original Cindy, and Mr. Do-Gooder himself, Logan. Alec approached Logan and the others cautiously and gently shook them all awake.
"Rise and shine," Alec said softly, waiting for each of them to wake up enough for him to explain why he was there. When each in turn acknowledged his presence, he finally clarified the reason he was there at one in the morning.
"I hate to wake you all up at this hour," he said sincerely, as he'd been woken up so often by his plaguing nightmares and knew that it wasn't the best case scenario, "but if we're gonna get you out of here without attracting much attention." He paused and looked at the three distractedly, meeting their confused expressions. "You all know that you can't stay here. For health reasons mainly, but also because." He trailed off, trying to find a way to put his thoughts into words, "things are just going to get more and more dangerous, and some of the things that could happen are definitely not safe you any you." He glanced at them, Sketchy and OC nodding dejectedly. But Logan, no, he wasn't going to be led out of Terminal City so easily.
"Alec," Logan said forcefully, his gaze showing the contempt he felt for the transgenic in front of him, "The blood transfusion from Joshua will prevent me from being effected by the chemicals. Anyway, I don't really think I should leave yet, you might need my help in the days to come."
Alec was not in the mood. "Look, Logan, we can't afford to take the chance that immunity to bio-warfare wasn't one of the traits you acquired. You can contact us from Joshua's."
"Alec," Logan retaliated, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself while I'm here. If I get sick, I'll leave then."
"Look, Logan. I for one appreciate your help. But you aren't a transgenic. You aren't one of us. And if something happens, you may not be able to properly defend yourself. You have to leave, and you have to stay away, at least for now." Alec was preoccupied with his own problems, and didn't need to have Logan questioning him with his know-it-all attitude at the moment.
"Alec," Logan reasoned, "I'm too involved with this mess not to stay. I just want to help, and if I'm willing to stay, I think you should stop fighting my motives and let me." Logan was getting a bit perturbed with Alec, and in the back of his mind thought that perhaps Alec wanted him out so that he could be alone with Max.
"I'm not going to sit here and argue with you like a child, Logan. We need to leave now if you don't want to get caught by the vigilantes, and as you saw at Jam Pony, my bullet wound has hindered my fighting abilities, and as it still hasn't healed completely. We need to leave immediately so that we can avoid as much resistance at the exit as we can." Alec turned and motioned for them to follow him. He scurried unseen along the perimeter of Terminal City, looking back to make sure everyone kept up. Sketchy and OC looked depressed, yet conformed to the idea of leaving for their own good. Logan, on the other hand, had simply convinced himself that it was for the best if he left for now, and followed reluctantly.
Alec reached the exit that he'd been headed for, one of the openings that only he knew of, on the southwest side of the City. It seemed that there were only a few people at this exit, ones that were apparently simply trekking a circular path around the area.
"We try to get through without attracting their attention," Alec said to the others, not bothering to indicate whom he was speaking of. "If they see us, you three run in there," he pointed to a tall building across the way, one that he'd been to and knew for a fact was deserted, "and I'll take care of any spectators. You wait just inside the doors until I come and get you. Understand?" They all nodded and Alec began to sneak across the street along the wall of the nearest structure.
Alec made it across first and Sketchy came next, both without any problem. OC looked at the men watching the perimeter and quickly dashed across. That left Logan, who glanced around as Original Cindy had, and began to run. Only his escape wasn't flawless as the others were. He still wore his exoskeleton, and the small noise it made attracted one of the nearer men's attention, and before Logan could reach the shadows, he was seen.
"FREAKS!" The man screamed into the night and the other men turned and took a shot at a defenseless Logan.
Alec ran out in a blur and shoved Logan toward OC and Sketchy before he could take a bullet, and managed to avoid getting shot himself. He ran to the nearest attacker, there was approximately five in all, grabbed his gun, flung in out of sight, and forcefully threw his body in to brick wall that stood behind him. The next three men were dealt with in similar ways all in the blink of an eye, yet the fifth offender was no normal human. He caught the eye of the middle-aged man and tilted his head questioningly, yet warily.
"Transgenic slime! You unnatural piece of filth!" The man, obviously a Familiar, charged wildly at Alec, which was no surprise for the transgenic; he could read the man's intentions from the time that Alec had approached him.
Alec and the Familiar moved fluidly, and they were each so knowledgeable in their fighting style that it was hard to get an attack in edgewise. Logan, OC, and Sketchy all watch him mesmerized. Not one of them had seen such a demonstration of sheer power.
Alec skillfully blocked all of the Familiar's attacks, from an attempt at a powerful blow to his chest, enough to have at least broken a few ribs, to a close shave with a fist aimed at his face. He struck back with a combination of flawless and fluid motions, and almost half of them squarely hit the Familiar. Alec sidestepped the man's left hook and countered with a forceful blow to his stomach. The man doubled over from the momentum of the attack. Taking advantage of the Familiar's momentary lack of attention, Alec put the man in an unbreakable headlock and choked him for a few seconds to display his power.
"What do you want from us? What do you want from 452?" Alec used Max's designation instead of her name as to avoid any misunderstanding on the Familiar's part. When the man remained silent, Alec tightened his grip on the man's neck and went for a less direct approach.
"What are you doing here?" Alec asked, allowing his grasp on the Familiar's throat to slip so that the man could respond.
"You'll find out," the man said mysteriously, and released himself from Alec's detached hold on him and ran toward the opening to Terminal City that Alec had just left.
Alec couldn't control his next actions, so he thoughtlessly displayed to Logan, Original Cindy, and Sketchy why Alec was known as Manticore's Finest and a top-notch fighter back in the day.
Alec lunged at the Familiar, grabbing him around the middle. He threw the man violently across the street and ran in a blur to where he landed. Alec mutilated his opponent, who refused to put up a fight, do to his shock at the position he was currently in. Alec nonchalantly broke the majority of his limbs, and then returned to the inquisition he'd left unfinished.
"You'd think that snake blood would give you a little more stamina," Alec muttered sarcastically, but then he turned lethal. "I'll ask you again," Alec said in a deadly tone, "Why are you here?"
"I can't tell you that, but you'll find soon enough what we want, and why."
Alec grabbed the man's neck once again, only more forcefully this time.
"That doesn't work for me." Alec had become frustrated. He knew this man had to have been watching the Transgenics, scouting the area, and reporting the information to the breeding cult. He couldn't be allowed to get away. "Any last words?" The man remained silent.
As much as Alec didn't want to kill the man, as wrong as he knew it was, he felt that he had to. Too many of his own kind had fallen or critically wounded at the merciless hands of this man, and those like him. He couldn't live.
Alec forced himself to break the man's neck with one intense movement, not knowing that he killed the Familiar by the same means his twin had been killed, and in the same mindset; wishing there was another way. He stood up with the dead man at his feet, wiped his face with his right forearm; the Familiar's blood mingled with the transgenic's sweat now smeared lightly on his arms. He hung his head, crossed his arms, and lifted his eyes to survey the scene. 'It had to be done,' he reminded himself.
He forgot about the three ordinaries watching, forgot about anyone who may be coming to check the area at that very moment, forgot to be a soldier. He just looked around and saw, truly saw, what was happening to the world around him, the world that hated him, that he didn't belong in, and what that world was doing to his own kind.
Looking at the men he'd knocked unconscious earlier, hoping that they'd come around, eventually, without too much disorientation, though not enough awareness to identify him, and then at the one dead man in front of him, Alec sighed. He felt guilty, sad, angry, and scared to hell all at the same time. If this was what a night watch had turned out to be, what would the days be like? And how long would the transgenics be able to hold out against an entire nation who wanted them dead? The thought triggered a mental image from when Biggs was killed, and the questions that had ran thought his head that night returned to him then. Why do they hate us? What did we ever do to them? Why do they want us dead so desperately? And most importantly, were they next? Would he, Max, and the others be the next to be killed and hung for public display? Some of the thoughts were juvenile, some were unanswerable, and some were irrelevant, but he still thought them nonetheless.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reluctantly pulled himself out of his personal reverie. He surveyed the scene once again, feeling that he should address the turmoil and chaos in some way. 'Damn Conscience,' Alec thought to himself, knowing that if it hadn't been for Max instilling such a thing into him, he'd be able to walk away with a feeling of uncertainty, one that had filled him during every mission after the Berrisford Assignment, but without openly addressing the situation. Not knowing any other appropriate approach, he stood at ease and, feeling that saluting was taking it too far, took one last look at the bodies around him, feeling uneasy at his reaction to the predicament. 'Get them home,' he thought, remembering the three people standing in the shadows, watching his every move, 'then you can sort out your own life.' He turned, and sauntered over to his charges, who had stayed outside of the building to watch Alec, disobeying his orders.
'Orders don't mean the same thing to them as they do to you. They weren't punished if they didn't follow every order given to them, if they didn't execute a mission perfectly, if they didn't succeed.' It was then that Alec brought himself to look at the expressions on each of their faces.
Original Cindy looked shocked at how her friend Alec so easily took control of such a situation, with such authority and command, but also a bit disturbed at how the whole thing played out.
Sketchy was more shocked than OC, but looked actually excited to have a friend who could take someone out so smoothly and without a struggle.
Logan, on the other hand, looked torn between a mixture of emotions, anger at Alec for not letting him fend for himself, gratitude toward Alec for saving his ass, shock at the way Alec had handled the situation, and confusion as to why Alec looked so guilty and embarrassed. After all, he'd probably just saved their lives.
"Sorry you had to see that," Alec muttered, looking at his feet. "Let's get to Joshua's house before we attract any more unwanted attention." With that, Alec sidled in the direction of Josh's street.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After about an hour of trekking through abandoned streets, dark alleys, and, Alec's personal favorite, the amazingly repulsive sewers, the group reached Joshua's house. Alec walked with them to door, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking down at his feet like a schoolboy. He was still uneasy with his display outside Terminal City. He said nothing as he waited for someone to enter the house, confirming that they had made it home safely. OC bravely broke the silence.
"Alec," she said, concern lacing her words, "you take care of ya-self, ya hear?" She hugged him and, to her surprise, he returned the gesture. He looked her in the eye and, before letting go of her, said something he'd been wanting to since that day at Jam Pony.
"OC?" He wasn't sure how to say it, so he winged it. "Thanks. Thanks, for everything. For accepting me, us, even when you knew what we were. Now, more than ever, it means a lot."
She seemed taken aback at Alec's sudden and unwarranted display of gratitude, as clumsily as it had come across. She looked back at him, replying to his statement.
"Alec, ya are who ya are. You, Max, even ya dog boy Joshua, you're family. Don't forget it."
Alec nodded silently, not sure what to say, and feeling unbelievably awkward. He moved onto Sketchy.
"Look, Sketch, I.I'm sorry for not telling you who, and what, I really was."
"No sweat, Alec." Sketchy said to Alec, "It's all good."
"Thanks," Alec said, bidding farewell to Sketchy as OC dragged him into the house, leaving Logan and Alec alone.
"Alec," Logan made the first move, but Alec stopped him.
"Logan, I know you wanted to stay in TC, but I think you of all people can understand all of the reasons why you can't. I've got somewhere to be, so I'll see ya round." Alec flew down the steps and out of sight in a few seconds, leaving Logan to stare after him, speechless, and finally walk into the house to join OC and Sketchy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Alec had abruptly left Josh's house, truly wanting to get away from civilization for as long as possible in order to come to terms with what had become of his reality. And there was, of course, only one place in which this could be done properly, only one place where this could be executed appropriately. Without knowing where his body was leading him, Alec found himself staring up at a tall, almost intimidating creation. It seemed to be in the nature of X5's to be attracted to high places. He sighed deeply, and dejectedly climbed the oh-so-familiar Space Needle.
A/N: Should I keep going? Please Tell Me! I know this is a bit slow, but hey, there are very few first chapters that aren't. Also, I know Alec might seem a bit out of character, but just remember that 1.) He's thinking these things, they're completely private, and 2.) If Alec's confused with his thoughts, until he gets them sorted out, you will be too.
Anyway, R/R, Thanks!
-AntipodeanOpaleye