AS2.05: Viridae by Star24
Disclaimer: Dark Angel and its characters are property and copyright 2001-2002 Twentieth Century Fox and James Cameron and Charles Eglee. This original story is copyright 2003 Star24.
AN: This is Part 5 of Alternate Season 2. Previously, Max and Logan have been confronted with ghosts from their pasts, forcing them to look into their own inner darkness. Knowing what they now do about each other, will it be possible for them to go on together? As they struggle with their personal demons, Seattle is once again faced with a crisis. A deadly disease has come to town, and Max and Logan may be the only ones who can stop it. At the same time the Jam Pony messengers have to deal with troubles of their own.
Seattle, The Space Needle: Just Before Dawn
No stars were showing and a chill rain was falling. The lights down below were blurred by the mist of the rain, as the small figure stood on the Space Needle gazing out over the city below.
So what is it with me and Logan? Every time it seems like things are starting to get on some kind of track, life manages to toss another curve ball our way. This thing with his ex gf has really thrown him. Makes me wonder how I'd feel if instead of being dead, Ben was locked back up in Manticore. At least this way I can tell myself that he's with the Blue Lady in his good place. Logan can't even do that. He won't talk about it, says he's dealin', but I can see it in his eyes, eating away at him. I don't know if it's her, or the thought that he might have had a kid, that's hurting him more.
OC says I need to be patient with him, but patience isn't my strong point. If I had a clue what to do I'd probably just do it, no matter what OC says. Thing is that I don't. Know what to do. Other than goin' over there and trying to make like things are back to normal. When we both know that they aren't. Maybe they never will be. Maybe too many things have happened, and we won't ever get past them. Sometimes I wish I could go back to not caring. It was easier. But it's too late for that. So for now I guess I'll just keep on keepin' on, one day at a time…
Streets of Seattle, Mid Morning
The bike messenger was in a hurry. She took the corner fast and then yanked her handlebars hard to the left, sending the bike careening into an alley. It was one of many short cuts that the local messengers used to speed their runs around the city. The alley was dank and odorous. Garbage spilled out of overflowing dumpsters and a couple of drunks snored away in back doorways, covered with old newspapers they were using as blankets. Scrawny cats foraged in the garbage looking for sustenance. The messenger was used to it all, and didn't give any of it a second glance as she pushed her bike on its way.
She was halfway through the alley when she saw a door opening ahead of her. She ignored it, assuming that it was just some shopkeeper bringing out their trash. But then she stood on her brakes bringing her bike to a screaming halt. Two huge men had emerged from the door and stood in front of her. She glanced behind and saw that two more had come out of another door and blocked her way back.
"Morning, fellas." She tried to brazen it out. She raised a hand and nervously pushed her short blonde bangs off of her face.
"Get off the bike," one of them grunted in reply.
The girl just stood there, straddling her bike and staring at them. The man who had spoken nodded, and at his signal the two of the others advanced on her.
"Hey." She protested as one of them roughly pulled her away from her bike. She struggled uselessly as the second ripped her backpack off of her back. "Those aren't mine. I'm just a messenger," she tried as he began to pull out her deliveries.
"Shut up, bitch." One of them slapped her hard, across the face. She tasted blood and her head seemed to spin from the force of the blow. Before she had a chance to recover, he punched her hard in the stomach and she doubled over in pain, falling to her knees on the filthy ground. She retched, dimly aware of them throwing the empty backpack down next to her. Rough hands grabbed her hair and pulled her head back so that she was looking up at the leader.
"This is a message to you and your friends at Jam Pony. You losers think you're too good to join the Guild. This is just a taste of what's gonna happen if you don't see the light. Take that back to your peeps there." He drew his foot back and kicked her in the stomach several times. She cried out in pain and collapsed onto the ground as soon as the grip on her hair was released.
"You want us to rough her up some more?" she heard one of the others asking as she lay there. Her body was engulfed in a red haze of pain, and she wondered vaguely if the kicks had ruptured some vital organ inside of her.
"Nah. She needs to be alive to get the message back to them. Take care of the wheels though."
Her brain screamed in protest as she heard the sound of metal being bent and wrenched. Her bike was her livelihood and she knew she couldn't afford another. But she couldn't muster the strength to do more than lie on the ground, as tears of pain and fear seeped from her eyes.
Then one of them was leaning over and whispering in her ear. "Next time you and me are gonna have some different kinds of fun. You ain't half bad lookin'." She shivered as she felt rough hands run over her breasts and butt as she lay there, helpless. Mercifully, blackness took over and she slipped into unconsciousness, a small battered heap lying in the middle of the alley, next to the twisted remnants of her bike. The alley was quiet until a soft beeping began to sound. Her pager was going off. She lay there unresponsive, as it echoed eerily in the alleyway.
Metro Medical Center
Doctor Beverly Shankar straightened from the patient she had been examining. She ran a hand absently through her hair, and turned to her colleague.
"How many of these have you had so far?" There was a definite concern evident in her tone.
"He's the third one this week." The other doctor, a harried looking middle aged man with thinning gray hair, told her.
"Why did you call me in on this? I usually just examine the dead ones."
"I hear tell your specialty was in tropical medicine back in the day. With the personnel shortage these days, we don't have anyone on staff with that kind of expertise anymore."
Shankar nodded grimly. "This reminds me of something. Something bad. But I'm going to need to do a lot more tests to be sure. Can you get me…" The two doctors left the room as she began detailing her list to her companion
Behind them a young man lay gasping for breath on the bed. His skin was a sickly, grayish color and it was covered with lesions, and slick from sweat. A nurse entered the room and administered a shot. She checked his vitals and noted them on the chart and hung a new IV bag. She slipped out quietly as he tossed and turned restlessly in the bed, unaware of his surroundings.
End of Prologue