Transgenic: A Hybrid Heresy

By AntipodeanOpaleye

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: Been a while, no? I'm very, very sorry for the wait. I really don't have any good excuse, except for some family stuff and that life had just started to catch up with me. But now I'm relatively caught up, and I plan on, at one time or another, finishing this in a somewhat timely fashion. Then again, I plan a lot of things don't I? Oh well… it will get done, that's a promise. New Year's Resolution, you see, "Finish What You Start." ;)

Anyway, didn't have much time to beta this yet, but I did want to post it, and I didn't want to bother Era with it, seeing as I've said, 'The new chapter's going to be done, mind if I send it?' about a thousand times, and then gone and changed my mind about where I want it to go, doing a rewrite of half the chapter. Sorry about that, Era. I'm a fickle person. And anyway, I'm still not extraordinarily pleased with this chapter. So much dialogue. Not exactly my thing.

In any case, I do hope you enjoy. R/R, if you would, and let me know what you think. Thanks!

~AO

Chapter Seven: Rune-d

"Alec?" Max ventured tentatively. "Dix should see those. We should document them, we need to…"

"No," Alec cut her off distractedly. "No. He's going to explain this one. And a hell of a lot more. Right now," he added as he walked toward the nearby patient area, brushing past the curtain.

"Alec," Max tried to stop him, but ended up following him in.

"Ronnie," Alec said in a low, soft, but commanding voice, "thank you for the help. But we need to have a word with him in private."

Ronnie appeared to be prepared to object, but the fire in Alec's eyes was silencing. She nodded and turned to leave.

Alec approached the man on the bed, lifting his jacket sleeve to reveal an entire forearm of blackish colored runes.

"What do they say?" Alec demanded in a deadly voice.

"You're 494?" the middle aged man asked incredulously. "Why didn't you say so?"

"I didn't have a reason to. And you never asked, now did you?"

"Alec," Max hissed from behind him, "what the hell is going on here?"

"Max," Alec asked suddenly. "Do you have any runes left? Ones that are visible?"

"I think so," Max said, brushing aside her long, dark hair and pulling at the neck of her black shirt to reveal a few fading runes on her left shoulder.

"452?" the patient asked in a disbelieving voice.

"Who the hell are you?" Max asked, her tone irate.

"Max," Alec cut in before the other man could reveal himself, "may I introduce Doctor Alexander Sandeman?"

"What?" Max asked in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

"Max," Sandeman whispered gently.

"You're him? The person who left us to grow up in a fucking hellhole as slaves to the all-powerful Donald Lydecker and his hench-bitch Renfro? The guy who decided he could play chimera god and turn my skin into an indecipherable message board whenever he damn well pleased?" Max's voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and the evil words didn't pack quite the punch they usually did coming out of the female transgenic's mouth.

"I suppose that's one way of putting it," Sandeman replied, shame slightly lacing his resolute voice.

"So, if you're him, you're also the guy who supposed to make sense of all this, right?" She added in a mere whisper.

"To the best of my ability," he pledged.

Max nodded, glanced at Alec, and took a seat to the right of Alexander Sandeman. Alec took the seat to his left.

"So," Max said, her natural attitude beginning to return, "start making some sense."

Sandeman sighed deeply and folded his hands, resting his forehead pensively on the platform he'd made.

"Where do I begin?" he asked rhetorically.

"Try the beginning," Max shot sarcastically.

Sandeman grinned. "As you wish."

"I guess it starts with the Familiars. I survived the initiation with little trouble, though I did develop a bit of influenza shortly afterwards. I was the first to survive without question, and it fascinated the Conclave. That started my climb in the Familiar community. I moved up the purebred ladder, securing a place in the Conclave at the age of eighteen. I was attending Harvard University at that point; the Conclave believed that even though I may be a 'Senior Member' of sorts as far as the Familiars went, they wanted to provide education for their child prodigy. I worked all through school, though there was no need, my tuition was already paid. But that money helped me immensely later in life. I lived under my alias Mark Szeushae, a name which was more me at that point that Alexander Sandeman was. I lived in a flat with three of my classmates; my girlfriend, Angelina, whom I'd falsely convinced the Conclave was used strictly for cover, and my friend Dave and his lady friend Leelee. We had a damn good time, just living like young adults should; though I had to be sure to fly under the radar. The Familiars are everywhere, and sometimes you can never know who is part of it, so I had to watch my back. Everything you can imagine, I think we did multiple times. We were happy, living together and partying like the children we still were. But then, something went wrong.

"The Conclave wanted me to marry; a pure blood pairing, of course, and take my place as a man in the Conclave. In other words, produce a child to be raised in the way of the Familiars and to carry on our legacy. I married a Familiar named Gabriella Duxchene, a renowned member of our little cult. Most couples only had one child, after the first two definitive stillborns. Some tried for more to impress the Conclave, but there had never been a second child who was born alive. We were perfectly happy with Ames, our son, and the Conclave was absolutely thrilled, considering my position as well as Gabriella's high standing. I continued on with my dealings in the Conclave, and Gabby stayed at home with Ames until he was old enough to be taken in by a governess. He was such a wonderful child…" Sandeman drifted off slightly, sighing lightly and quickly continuing.

"Then something happened. I was unable to continue my studies, though I'd already achieved my doctorate degree by then, so I was forced to abandon my life as a young adult. I spent all of my time with either The Conclave, Ames, or Gabriella. Then Gabby got pregnant again. The Conclave was in favor of destroying the child due to the past track record with second children, as not to endanger the mother. But I was skeptic. I wanted my child to have a chance. So the Conclave allowed Gabby to carry the baby full term. And Christopher Joseph was born. The Conclave was once again shocked, as CJ was the first second child to be born alive. CJ was a sweet little boy, so caring. He and his brother were very close when they were young. Each other's best friend. The two of them grew up quickly, and before I knew it, Ames was old enough to be initiated. His mother and I were nervous, but confident he'd do well. He was a strong boy, we knew he'd pull through. We waited until after the ceremony, and then went to see him. He was ill, but he could've been worse. He recovered within six hours.

"Ames began his training with the rest of the children at that point. He was instructed in infiltration and combat. He was happy at Brookridge, he belonged there. I was there often with the Conclave, and Gabby was an instructor there, so we were never away from him for long. Things were going perfectly, until The Conclave proposed The Coming."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Zack sauntered over to the group of transgenics in the corner. His family. He hadn't said much of anything to any of them yet, except for Max and Brin, neither of which was among the group. He'd had to take care of Lydecker. Zack was the only one who knew he was there, regardless of the shit he had fed Lydecker about Max wanting him tied up until she could deal with him. And Maggie knew, because she'd seem him tied in the shadows, where he still was, due to Zack's determination to torture him as much as possible. But she'd had to leave for some supply run for some of the anomalies nearby, leaving Zack to himself. And so he'd finally gotten the opportunity to rejoin his siblings. He remained hidden in the shadows, unseen by anyone, listening to the conversation.

"California is really quite beautiful," Jondy was saying, "for a Post-Pulse city, that is. I hear it was a hell of a lot better before the Pulse."

"Yeah," Zane added, "I stayed there for a while. Made my way through the southwest for a while. You can have one hell of a time down near the Mexican boarder, and in the southeast," he caught Jondy's eye and the both said simultaneously, "Mardi Gras."

Krit chuckled lightly. "I never really left the area, kept pretty close between Gillette and Seattle. Spent some down time in Canada and such, but never went any farther south than northern California."

"Same here," Syl offered. "Though one time I did make it to Chicago. Didn't stay too long though."

Zack decided that it was a good time to jump in.

"Yeah, Chicago's ok. New York's better. Even more entertaining is Boston, or Providence. DC is definitely not worth the time, though. But the best, by far, is Cleveland. Streets, people, fun, and, of course, rock 'n roll."

Four heads turned immediately and focused in on the figure casually leaning against the wall.

"But then again, it's been awhile since I've been there. Been spending a lot of time in Oregon, though," Zack added wryly, waiting for a reaction from the four transgenics staring openmouthed at him.

They maintained the shocked silence.

Zack rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. This is absurd. Has to be the first time the four of you have been rendered speechless."

Syl was the first to speak. "Zack?"

"Yeah," he replied, suddenly a quite uncomfortable.

"Can't be," Krit muttered in a barely audible tone.

"Why not?" Zack asked him.

"Because you…" Krit began.

"Because I was dead? No, don't think so. Well, I was. Was. Sometimes I wish I would have stayed that way. But no, good old Manticore doesn't let anyone die. No one just dies. They put you through hell until you died there. And then if you wouldn't die there, they thought up something new to put you through until the death. A continuous vicious cycle."

The four transgenics sat in silent shock and awe once more, staring at their Once-Thought-Dead Brother Zack with wide eyes and slightly opened mouths.

Zack, never having been good with emotions to begin with, and having had his little experience with such things shaken up so badly they were of no use, he shrugged, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and fell into an overstuffed chair in the corner.

"So," he began once more. "Anyone been to Florida? I only made it down to the Orlando area once or twice…"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The Coming was to be the ultimate test of strength, of power, of status," Alexander Sandeman began. "There was no place for the weak amongst the ranks of The Familiars. The Conclave had dubbed our current form of testing…"

"The snake blood," Max interrupted.

"Not snake blood alone. It was at the time. But the Familiars, as I said, dubbed that form of testing to be ineffective. It was cobra blood, with a few tweaks to make it more lethal. But the Familiar Community was growing too quickly and by too many numbers for The Conclave's liking. So they upped the stakes a bit. They decided that they would use a combination of the cobra blood and coral snake venom to ensure less candidates of surviving the initiation. But that wasn't enough for them. They believed that it was possible for the weak to intertwine their way into our ranks even after the induction was over. And also that strong adolescents did not ensure strong adults. So they wanted to instill a final test. One to be sure to wipe out the weaklings in both Familiar and Global Society. To guarantee the reign of the Familiars for generations, millennia, to come. They proposed The Coming.

The Coming was really quite simple, though a stroke of pure genius. It was mainly the work of two of the members of The Conclave; an elder member, Goustav Lembaas of Asia, he was Russian if I'm not mistaken, and a Mystiquea LaDorn, a middle-aged woman from Europe. France, I believe. They proposed an air born toxin, a terrorist device, a pathogen so powerful that its instant lethality would be unimaginable. But the time frame was somewhat disturbing. According to tradition, nothing so drastic was done without the passing of seven Katara ceremonies, or the passing of at least seven years. The pathogen would take field-testing, revision, and then a group of foolish young individuals to appear to have created the pathogen themselves, in order to avoid becoming suspected of such creations.

"It was a risky business, that was well established. It could very well be created too strong, too potent, and wipe us all off the face of the planet. It could be that some of our most trusted and valued members would be killed. But The Conclave was blinded by their quest for unquestionable purity, and they weren't concerned with their own well being or the well being of those who were key in the success of the Familiars.

"The planning was grueling. Gabriella was in position of Supervising Professor at Brookridge, and I was given the opportunity to work alongside her and many other prestigious scientists in the Familiar Community in creating a prototype of the pathogen. We were a small group, comprised of myself, my wife, a young woman named Amanda Viau, a young man named Jonathan Hall, a middle aged woman named Wanda Vegal, and a middle aged man named William Doerge. We worked day and night, our children in the hands of other Familiars, both CJ and Ames in the care of The Conclave. Coincidentally, not one of us agreed with the measures that The Conclave had proposed we take. They feared that anything as potent as what we had been instructed to create would wipe out most if not all of the world population, Familiars included. But there was no way that we could blatantly disrespect The Conclave, even with my position, without extreme consequences. So we created something, a covert operation that would secretly halt the plans of The Conclave. I proposed Project Chimera, but Gabby insisted that this sounded quite inadequate, something much less poetic than the usual Familiar would use. And so she dubbed the program Project Manticore."

"We began small. We knew that we'd want to create a race of superhumans, but we were unsure how to approach it. We thought of performance enhancers and other such chemical refinements, but it was Jonathon's idea to try DNA merging. We contemplated human and Familiar combinations, but animal DNA proved to be the most effective. The real decision was whether we were to use Familiar or human DNA to merge with the animal combinations. As unimportant as it sounds, it was one of the most imperative decision we had to make. But we did use Familiar DNA in the end. So you are all quite similar to the Familars themselves. Siblings, for lack of better term, in more ways than one.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ames White sat at his desk, his dark hair hanging a bit in his face. He'd decided that he liked the loosely framing style better than the one he'd had before.

He clicked the mouse in his hand fervently, watching the large, high-resolution screen of the laptop quickly go from one frame to the next. He'd always hated the touch pads most laptops were equipped with.

He watched the clip. Again. And again. He continued to watch it until it was etched completely into his mind, and even afterwards, in case he'd remembered it wrong.

Poor kid. Mom's gone...dad's a freak...Not exactly the storybook ending we were hoping for.

'Bitch,' Ames thought. 'What the hell would she know about it? And she's in the perfect position to be dealing out the title of freak, now, isn't she?' He smirked malevolently.

Well, at least we got him away from those people.

'Those people? We were his family. His only family. He belongs with us.'

That's what Wendy wanted.

That was a low blow. 'Wendy,' White though to himself. He hadn't wanted things to end up the way they did. He'd loved the woman. She was his wife. His confidant. He'd enjoyed her presence, and was proud to have her bear his child. Even though she was a mere human, it hadn't mattered. He had loved her. But what other choice had he had? He couldn't have let her live once she'd found out…

Oh, I talked to her sister, by the way. She's on her way down. Made arrangements to get her and Ray on a plane, as far away from White as I can.

Deann. Deann Margruite, if he wasn't mistaken. And he wasn't. Wendy's only sibling; her younger sister by two years. She lived in Ontario, but if she was coming to Seattle, and taking Ray as far away as Mr. All Powerful Eyes Asshole could get her… But then Ray woke up. He loved that part.

Hey, Ray. How you feeling?

'How dare you talk to my son, 452. How dare you.'

Okay. Did I pass? Am I strong?

Ames smiled. "You did fine. You're as strong as anyone, Ray. Strong as anyone," he said to the empty room.

You did fine.

The video cut there, but Ames didn't need any more. His son was alive. That's all he needed to know. As long as his son was alive on this earth, he would find him. But, The All-Powerful Eyes Only had made it even easier than even that.

White clicked his mouse a few more times, magnifying the frame. He moved the cursor upward, choosing a clarification command. The enlarged image became readable. A computer screen itself. And a large piece of paper.

Paris

Sister can't speak French, Arouse suspicion

London

Not allowing incoming flights; national security breach

Sydney

Housing???

Phoenix

And the paper was blank. But it didn't stop there. The computer screen finalized the plans.

Flight Departure: Seattle, Washington; USA

Flight Destination: Phoenix, Arizona; USA

Departure Date: 3-21-21

Departure Time: 3:15 AM

And as if that wasn't enough, another window was visible, displaying a modest, but quaint ranch type house.

5987 Marklin Avenue

Pheonix, AZ

So there it was. His son was in Phoenix.

White grinned. He printed the frame, dialing a number on his desk phone as the paper came out. He switched the call to speakerphone, the incessant ringing vibrating around the very large office.

"Special Agent Gottlieb," the voice sounded throughout the room.

"Otto," White said, very pleased with himself. "Do you know how long it would take to wage war on the transgenic community housed in Terminal City?"

"That I do not, sir," Otto replied.

"In a matter of days they could be wiped out. The element of surprise is on our side. They wouldn't know what hit them."

"Excuse my asking, sir, but if it would be so simple, why is it that we haven't taken action as of yet?"

"Well, Otto. That's a valid question. We were under the impression that the transgenics had valuable information about a kidnapping of a young boy. Acting as one of the head forces in the counter attack, I knew that we would have to wait until the information was extracted before we acted."

"Very good, sir. Then what good would it be to even think of attack at this point, sir?"

"Well, Otto," White replied in sadistic pleasure. "That's the thing. It seems that we've attained the information we've been looking for. And, in doing so, the lives of the transgenics serve no existing purpose. And so, you'll need to do two things. Book me the next outgoing flight to Phoenix, Arizona, and schedule a meeting with my superiors for the day I return. The transgenics' days are numbered."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So," Max said, an odd edge to her voice. "You figured you cook up some lovely genetic mistakes to fight your war for you. Easy enough. Then how did Manticore come around?"

"The 'Manticore' of which you speak was never a part of our plans. But our if you're inquiring about the progression of our research, that's comes next. Patience is a virtue we never perfected in your genetic makeup, Max. You are obviously lacking in that department."

"And what would you know about it?" Max shot back viciously.

"I meant no offense," Sandeman countered. "Patience often gets in the way. I posses very little, if any of it myself. But never mind it. On with the story."

"I remember our research progressing well. We were proud. We had created beings. But they were not human. Real hybrids, in both genetic makeup and coding as well as in appearance."

"The anomalies." Max whispered.

"Is that what you called them, as well?"

"Yes," Max began, but stopped. "Can we talk about them afterward?"

"Whatever you wish. Anyway, we had accomplished so much, yet so little. The first anomalies were too deformed and did not survive more than a week. But we were so close. We had the plans; we only had to act on them. However, it was at this point that CJ was old enough to be initiated. It was at this point that I had to make a choice. One that would affect everyone in my family."

"CJ said that you tested his DNA. Said that he wouldn't have survived the snake blood thing."

"When did you meet my son?" Sandeman asked seriously.

"Only a few weeks ago," Alec spoke up. "Ames took him away. He said he'd been locked up to begin with, I'm sure that's how he is now."

Sandeman nodded solemnly. "I see. You are correct. CJ would not have survived. I suspected it, but the DNA tests proved it. But such testing was against the rules of the Conclave. They were not happy when they found out…"

"Alexander," Miagrie, one of the females addressed him. He stepped forward into the dimly lighted room that the Conclave spent most of their time in. If there was one thing he liked about the Conclave, it was their lack of light. He'd never been one for lighted areas.

"Alexander," Bertram, the presiding member at that particular meeting, began, "we would like to know the current status of your work."

Alexander swallowed. "Very good, sir."

"This is pleasing to hear, Alexander," Bertram continued. "And what of your boy, Christopher Joseph?"

"With all do respect to the Conclave," Alexander said with obvious mock reverence, but none of the members seem to notice. "I do not believe that CJ will survive the initiation."

"What?" Cuitine, another female member asked in shock. "We're talking thousands of years of tradition, Alexander. Your son is most likely to survive."

"I will not take that chance," Alexander argued.

"Where are these ideas coming from?" Samuel asked from the shadows.

Alexander remained silent.

"I know," a voice came from the back of the room. Everyone turned, except for Alexander. He knew exactly who was speaking.

Jullianna Katan never liked Alexander. She envied him, and did whatever she could to spite him. And he was more that aware that she was about to bring the world crashing down around him within minutes.

"Alexander has not been working on The Coming. It is a different project. I do not know the details, but it has to do with DNA manipulation. He tested his son's DNA. His son is not strong enough to survive the initiation."

Alexander glared at Jullianna, but remained composed.

"Alexander," Bertram said slowly, "you know that testing DNA before initiation is unheard of. It is heresy. And as Cuitine said, we are talking about thousands of years of tradition, Alexander."

"Screw tradition," Alexander said levelly. "I will not watch my son die. Not if I can prevent it. This system of doing things is not ethical. To kill innocent children only because they were born genetically weaker than another child? That is heresy. Murder, even. I will not allow you to murder my son."

"Alexander Sandeman is not fit for his position in the Conclave, let alone his position in the society of the Familiars. Either he change his ways or parish," Jullianna declared powerfully, he full, red lips curving into an unnaturally satisfied grin. Malice and greed dripped from her words as she spat them for the rest of Conclave to evaluate.

"You will change your ways," a small, yet resolute voice said from behind Alexander. "Won't you?"

"Ames," Alexander said slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"A very good question." Bertram cried out in irritation. "Young man, you are only permitted to be here when we allow it. Now is not a good time. Leave at once!"

"Don't you dare talk to my son that way!" Alexander spat at the elderly man, then turned to his son. "Ames, go to your mother. Tell her that I need to speak with her."

Ames didn't move.

"Won't you?" he repeated. Alexander sighed.

"I will not let your brother die, Ames." Then, to the entire room: "I am willing to work with you concerning this matter. I am willing to aide you, should you chose to accept my theory. We must find another way to judge the strength of the Familiars. A safe way. It is vital to our survival. The science and technology we would be able to make use of is spectacular, it would benefit us greatly…"

"No, Ames," Jullianna said wryly. "It is obvious that you are traitorous and cannot be trusted. You shall be put to death!"

"No, he shall not," Bertram interrupted. "Alexander is the model Familiar, and for being such and will allow a slight exception. He will be given twenty-four hours to evacuate the premises. Should he not, he will then be put to death. And should you threaten us in any way, we will hunt you down, and the sentence will be executed. You understand, do you not?"

Alexander said nothing, but spat in the old man's face in a very childish manner and spun around and left the room. His son, Ames, still had not moved from his position against the back wall.

"And so that was how it went. I fled, with my wife and CJ. We evacuated all of our research that night as well. Ames remained with The Conclave, and was forever convinced that I was the enemy. CJ later left for Europe. We sent him there in an attempt to protect him. Gabby and I settled into a life in the Massachusetts area, and continued our development. We had plans that we believed would create the supersoldiers we were looking for. But we needed an investor. That investor was found in the Renfro Family.

"William Renfro VIII backed our research and gave us two facilities in the Northwest United States: one in Seattle, and one in Gillette. We started in Gillette, and we created the more sophisticated anomalies, the transhumans, and the first of the X Series, all of which we incredibly intellectual. The X1s were primitive humans in appearance, but physically advanced in ways never before believed possible. The X2s and X3s were similar. The X4s, however, looked just like humans. The only problem was that some of them retained more animalistic characteristics than intended, and a few drew suspicion by barking, growling, hissing, roaring, etcetera. Then came the X5s.

"You were the perfect model. You had all of the physical attributes that we had aimed for, as well as the intelligence, and the attractive appearances you were intended to have. That was when Lydecker came in."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Hello?"

"Hello," a very breathless Miranda Lithel replied. "Special Agent Ames White, please."

"One moment."

Miranda was practically dancing around the apartment she had recently occupied. She had to tell Brother White about what she'd found out in the time she'd been there. It was almost providential that she'd had such wonderful fortune in finding so much useful information in the shot time that she was there. If she had believed in that sort of thing, of course.

"I'm sorry," the voice on the other side of the phone said, not sounding the least bit sorry, "Agent White left a just few hours ago."

"Where did he go?" Miranda demanded.

"That information is classified…" the voice said as Miranda hung up the phone in disgust.

"Well," Miranda said to herself, "Agent White's getting a private call, then."

She dialed a series of numbers, far more than any normal phone number required. Then she waited.

"Fe'nos tol," the female voice on the other line greeted the caller coldly and without emotion.

"I need to locate a Familiar by the name of Ames White."

There was slight pause on the other line.

"I'm sorry," the monotone voice said slowly, "There is no one listed by that name."

Miranda paused. "Try Ames Sandeman."

There was another pause. "He left for Phoenix, Arizona this morning."

"I need contact information."

"Name, please?"

"Miranda Lithel."

Another Pause.

"His private number is listed as 521-197-8452."

"Connect me. Fe'nos tol."

Miranda waited as the line went dead and picked up once more.

"Hello," a very abrupt male voice sounded on the other line.

"Fe'nos tol, Brother White."

"Miss Lithel, I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment…"

"Donald Lydecker is in Terminal City."

"Is he, now?" White asked, less than enthused. "And you found this bit of information important enough to bother me with on my private line because?"

"He was pronounced dead, for one thing. He was the director of the Manticore Program for years. But that's not why I called."

"Then why, Lithel?"

"Because someone else is here."

"And that person would be?"

"I haven't seen him, but everyone here is talking about him."

"First off, Miranda," White replied in a deadly tone, emphasizing her name with obvious distaste, "do not refer to them with such a human term as 'everyone.' They are not human. And secondly, do not take the word of the Transgenic Community seriously. They are lying assassins, and they cannot be trusted by anyone. Now, get to the point. Who do you think is there?"

"Alexander Sandeman, sir."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"McKinley," the middle aged senator answered the call stiffly.

"Senator," White greeted him without regard to status.

"Ames," McKinley addressed him curtly over the phone. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to the young man, it was just that he was about to leave for a very important meeting. He needed to be brief.

"I need to get in touch with Daemeon," Ames replied purposefully. The Senator promptly disregarded all plans on attending his scheduled meeting.

"You're ranked, Ames," McKinley said slowly, "and very highly favored with Daemeon. Hell, he attended your son's initiation, one of the only initiations he's ever shown his face for, mind you. What more could you ask for? But you should know the man is busy. His very presence anywhere brings honor and prominence. Why are you looking for him?"

"Seems as if the all powerful Eyes Only isn't so all powerful any more."

"Ames, this is no time for your cryptic little hints."

"I found Ray."

"Your son Ray is alive?"

"Well, obviously."

The Senator sighed, a response to his shock. He'd heard the whole story. Ray was considered dead, and a huge loss to the Familiar community. The only reason they hadn't wiped out the Transgenics, or at least made a move, was because of Ames' adamancy to finding his son, plus the plans for The Coming had not yet been finalized. But they were now complete, and they hadn't been carried out yet all because of Ames Sandeman.

"And another thing."

The Senator perked up a bit. "Yes?"

"Looks like if we take out the transgenics, we'll be taking out a few other minor annoyances as well."

"Again with the cryptic nature, Ames?"

White could be heard snarling subtly on the other line. "Sandeman and Lydecker are rumored to be in Terminal City."

"What?" The Senator asked in disbelief.

"Exactly what I said." White replied abruptly. "Have Daemeon contact me if he's available, and please extend all of my gratitude to him. I need to retrieve my son."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Donald Lydecker was not the most compliant individual I've ever met. He refused to accept that the project was mine, and I was still at the head of it. The government simply wanted to become more learned about what I was doing. I wasn't pleased, but Dr. Renfro asked me to at least try to work with them. He was a wonderful man, and asked very little. Before the government came in, all he wanted was for his daughter, Elizabeth, to be able to have some assignment on the project. That wasn't difficult, however. The young woman was exceptionally bright and ambitious. But Lydecker was not so easy to work with.

"This project would greatly benefit the government," Donald said firmly. "I will inform them of this, and they will take over the operation."

"This is my project, Lydecker. You will not have control over it," Sandeman retorted with just as much determination.

"You're foolish, Alexander."

"Foolish, perhaps. But at least I've made something of myself."

"As have I."

Sandeman snorted malevolently. "That is amazingly obvious," he replied sarcastically.

Lydecker simply shot wicked glares at the Doctor.

"Would you reconsider if I could tell you something about your wife's death?"

Lydecker turned deadly. "What do you know?"

"Who killed her."

"Who was it?"

"Ah, but you need to agree to my terms first."

"Fuck you, Sandeman."

"Language gets you no where in life, Don."

"You Son of a Bitch…"

"The proposition is open. It's up to you."

Sandeman turned and promptly swept out of the room.

"I hated to bring his wife into it. I really did. I've never considered myself an evil man, but I was desperate. And yes, I did know who killed his wife. My son Ames's friend Elise. It was her first assassination, and Ames was nervous about it, to say the least. They were romantically involved at the time, even though the Conclave didn't normally pair children off until their twenty-first birthdays. Needless to say, he was a wreck. No one was allowed near her the day of the job. It's a big thing in our little cult. Isolation 24 hours before your first kill. Almost a second initiation, really. But she, obviously, carried it out without a problem. It was quite a prominent accomplishment for her in the Familiar Society. But this is unimportant. On with the story you are interested in.

"Well, eventually, I lost my battle with Lydecker. He brought in the military, and threatened the life of my children and wife. I sent my wife away, but refused to leave myself. That was when they took Gabby. They simply tracked her down and kidnapped her. That was when I gave up. I never did find out for sure what happened to her, no matter how hard I tried. I'm sure she's dead by now. The government has no problem with collateral damage, nor do they take any prisoners. And that brings us up to when the X5s were around the age of two, when you were first able to retain childhood memories."

"Well," Alec said, "that clears some things up. But you still didn't explain about the runes."

"Ah, yes. The runes. All right. It won't take long, now that you know the basics. But it's complex. And I can't tell you everything; it would jeopardize what little hope there is left. But yes, on with the runes."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"May I help you?" The young woman who answered the door asked timidly. 'The sister,' White thought. She had Wendy's nose. And the same eyes, though Wendy's had been more beautiful. So captivating. He'd loved her eyes. He mentally shook himself, taking in the woman more indiscriminately. 'Not half bad.'

"Ma'am," White said confidently, "My name is Agent Sandeman." He almost cringed at using the name. "I'm here to speak with about your nephew, Ray."

"Ray?" she asked in a horribly transparent attempt at innocence.

"Yes. Ray White."

"Uh, well, come in then," she gave in, ushering him inside.

"Thank you," he said as he followed her in.

"Sit down," she said politely. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you," Ames replied.

She nodded and walked out of the room. Ames took in the small area as he waited for her to return.

The light blue paint in the room, and the scent of rose and juniper. A different combination. And strawberries. The sweet smell of strawberries.

The seascape border near the ceiling.

The cherry trim and crown molding.

The light casting shadows around the room through the almost impressionistic-patterned drapes.

His eyes then wandered to the mantle.

A picture of the woman and who he assumed to be her husband.

A vase of roses, explaining the rose scent.

Birthday cards on the mantle.

A clock, slowly ticking the seconds away in a circular motion.

A green candle. Undoubtedly juniper.

And a small frame. It couldn't be seen unless you were really looking, as if it wasn't meant to be seen, but wasn't supposed to be taken down. One that contained a very familiar photograph. A small picture of Ray, alone with his mother, next to one of Ray, barely recognizable in an oversized black cloak, being held by a kneeling Ames that couldn't be seen under his hood.

"Beautiful boy, isn't he?" the woman's voice commented from behind him. Accompanied by the scent of strawberries.

"He is," White replied in all honesty.

"How much do you know about his situation?"

"Not much," Ames lied.

"His mother was killed by his father, who belonged to some type of cult. The father was trying to get him involved. It became quite dangerous. Little Ray was in very poor health when he came to us. A very nice man arranged for us to take him. I'm surprised that his father hasn't come looking for him yet. But Mr. Cale assured us we'd be safe." She blanched, realizing that she'd most likely said too much, and then straightened.

"Ray's in his room," she said softly. "I'll get him."

"No," Ames said desperately, but nonchalantly at the same time. "I always find it better to talk to children in a neutral environment. I'll wait outside. Send him out, and we can take a quick walk."

The woman appeared suspicious, but nodded in agreement. "Alright. One moment."

Ames sauntered casually outside, strategically placing himself near a tree in the front yard, his back to the door. All there was left to do was wait.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"The runes were encoded into your DNA, along with numerous other things that none of the other transgenics have. Both of you were to have them, when the time and circumstances were correct. They're hormone-induced, and you're both genetically coded to produce unique hormones under appropriate circumstances to trigger the appearance of the runes. It was a precaution, in case I wasn't around to have this conversation with you at Manticore. As it turns out, it was a good thing that I too it. You see, your lovely escape, 452, put a dint in many of our plans. I had observed you until I left, but I had given standing orders to transfer you from the Gillette Facility to the one in Seattle. To grown up with 494, to learn together, to come to be able to depend on each other willingly, as you would once be forced to. And that's really all that I can say at the time. I could tell you what they say, I mean, that was the original plan, though I'd rather do that with all of the record you have of the previous runes, assuming you have them." The two nodded simultaneously. Sandeman laughed slightly.

"I must admit that I was concerned whether the two of you would ever grow to tolerate each other. But it looks like you seem to be getting along just fine…" he trailed off, waiting for some kind of confirmation from the two transgenics. Max looked over at Alec briefly, but he was avoiding her eyes. She looked down quickly when his gaze rose, dodging the confrontational meeting of the eyes. Sandeman grinned.

"Why don't we go and look at those records, eh?" he said, attempting to lighten the mood. Alec rose from his seat almost instantaneously, followed closely by Max.

"You should really stay here. Not only do you need those cuts cleaned," Alec gestured to the man's face, "but if anyone recognizes you out there, you never know how they'll react."

Max nodded in agreement. "You should stay here. We'll bring the records down as soon as possible."

Sandeman sighed. "Whatever you say."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Now Ray," Ames heard the woman's voice travelling from the house, "just talk to the man. He's here to help."

"Why?" Ray asked innocently.

"Because he only wants what's best for you."

"How do you know?"

The aunt sighed. "Ray, please. Just talk to him, he's waiting out there." She pointed toward the tree.

Ray stared at the figure for a few moments, knowing that it was familiar. But how…

"All right," Ray conceded. "I'm going."

"That's a good boy," his aunt said as she gave him a gentle shove out the door.

She made the mistake of walking away before seeing where he went off to.

Ray walked to the opposite of the tree where the man was standing. He looked like a man involved with the government. Like someone who had come to get him because he was a Familiar. And he was a Familiar. A real one too; he'd survived. His aunt didn't know that. She knew that he'd almost become one, but she never knew that he'd actually 'passed the test.' And now, Ray was smart enough to know to avoid someone as suspicious as the man behind the tree.

He sauntered down the sidewalk, ignoring the piercing gaze of the man behind him. He could feel his eyes on him, and he could faintly hear the footsteps following him.

Ray increased his pace, and, to his surprise the footsteps ceased. He paused, but didn't not turn around. He moved to continue walking, but a voice froze him in his tracks.

"What's wrong, Ray?" the voice asked, concerned.

"Nothing," he knew that voice. But it couldn't be him. There was no way it could be. Was there?

"Then why are you running from me? Running from your home?"

"Because this isn't my home," he said with a hate and regret that didn't belong in one so young. "And I don't want it to be. I want to go home."

"Do you really?" the voice asked, trying to sound cynical, but failing miserably.

"Of course," Ray turned, meeting his father's eyes.

"Dad?" Ray asked, disbelieving.

"Ray," Ames replied softly as Ray ran to him. He wrapped his arms around his son, Ray doing likewise.

"Everyone thought you were dead, Ray," Ames said to no one in particular. "But I knew that you weren't. I knew."

"That I was dead? They told me you were dead," Ray said slowly.

"Dead?" Ames asked, anger lacing his voice.

Ray nodded. "The man with the glasses said so first, and then Aunt Deann and Uncle David said so, too. I thought…"

"It's all right now, everything's going to be just fine."

'Just fine. Everything will be just fine. After I kill the two people in that house, that is.' Ames thought. 'And Mr. Cale. No one lies to my son.'

"Come on, Ray," Ames said softly. "We're going home."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Thank you very much," Doctor Sandeman said politely to Ronnie as she finished tending to a large gash on his arm. "You're quite skilled at medicine. Did you train long in the trade?"

Ronnie laughed slightly. "Train? I had some instruction back at Manticore, but it was mostly just watching and then doing. I was down in medical for tests far too often not to pick something up."

"I see," Sandeman said slowly, looking to change the subject. "How long have you been here? If you don't mind he asking…"

"Oh, it's fine. I've been here since around January, right after Alec started coming and bringing some order to the place. Max moved in a short time after. I've been in medical since the siege started."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Ronnie paused. "I like to help people. This is the only way I can see to do that. Not like I can do much else with this look." She gestured to her aquatic features.

"I think you look lovely," Sandeman said softly.

Ronnie looked slightly stunned and turned to him. "Really?"

"Of course. And besides, medicine is the most effective way to help others. Lives are in your hands. You can determine life or death on a whim. You hold a very powerful position."

Ronnie smiled softly. "I suppose I never thought of it that way." And with that, she was gone.

Sandeman sighed, leaning back on the small cot and resting his eyes slightly. He was aroused instantaneously, however, by an uncannily familiar voice.

"Ronnie," the rough voice barked. "Ronnie. Ronnie…."

"Joshua," Sandeman heard Ronnie greet the voice. "What can I do for you?"

"Max and Alec want me to bring someone to Command. Escort man who came with Alec. Protect him."

"Surely. He's all patched up and shouldn't have any further problems. He's right in there."

Sandeman heard heavy footfalls coming his way while the lighter, more elegant ones of the nurse walked in the opposite direction. Sandeman, however, was unprepared for the large dog-man that came barging in so suddenly. The large anomaly appeared to be ready to speak, but stopped abruptly when he saw the man lying in front of him.

"Father?" Joshua stammered.

"Joshua?" Sandeman asked slowly in return, almost unsure of how to react.

"Father," Joshua repeated with childish enthusiasm, and in a moment was at the man's bedside, capturing him in a bone-crushing hug. Had it not been for the Familiars' high pain tolerance, he may have become considerably uncomfortable, but instead, he returned the embrace.

"Joshua," Sandeman said as he patted Joshua on the back paternally.

And they stayed there for an extended period of time, almost like father and son. Almost.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Alec collapsed into an old, overstuffed chair, sighing deeply. He rested is head in his heads, his elbows propped on his knees. Rubbing his temples rhythmically, he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. This was just too much.

"Alec?" he could hear behind him. 'Max,' he thought. He considered ignoring her, not out of anger, annoyance, or playfulness, but in an attempt to retain as much of his sanity as he could. Because on the sanity front, things weren't looking too good.

"Max," he replied, distracted.

"A bit overwhelming, huh?" Max asked, plopping down next to him.

"A bit," Alec admitted.

"Can I see?" Mac asked almost tentatively.

"See what?" Alec asked, confused.

"Your runes. I mean, you saw mine, and you were the first to notice them. And I was the first to notice yours. And well…" she trailed off, realizing how childish she was sounding and crossing her arms in both defense of her argument, as well as in frustration. "Just stick out your damn arm."

This made Alec grin slightly. He nodded his head in mock reverence. "Whatever you say."

He put his arm forward, rotating it slowly. Max scrutinized the markings on his skin, and then said slowly, "I didn't have that many."

"Is that good or bad?" Alec asked sarcastically.

She shrugged. "Neither, I suppose. Just stating the facts."

He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. "Don't you always?"

She hit him playfully in response.

"I am so definitely going drinking tonight," Alec commented to no one in particular.

"Uh…Alec?" Max asked tentatively. "Where are you going to get a drink?"

"At the bar, Derek always has something."

"Settling for just the average 'something' these days, huh?"

Alec looked at her, his expression indecipherable. "Desperate time call for desperate measures."

Max only nodded in response.

"Wanna come with?" Alec asked suddenly. Max looked at him strangely, not comprehending what he meant.

"To get a drink."

"Oh," she replied dumbly. "Ok."

And so they walked silently together towards the small, beat up building that served to satisfy the unending craving for alcohol the transgenic community had been so generously gifted with.

And as they walked away, a small, lithe figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Interesting," Miranda Lithel said quietly to herself. "Very interesting, indeed."

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