Exit Strategy

Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here. No, not even Alec.

Spoilers: Set two weeks after the events of Freak Nation, includes spoilers for the entire series.

This is my first piece of fanfiction. I figured I'd start with a wee chapter, just to see if it's worth continuing. I'll mostly focus on the feelings or observations of the people in Terminal City. There will be quite a bit of questioning Max's authority, because I always found it hard to believe that lifelong military would follow a deserter. Will try to stay in character, but let me know if I get too OOC.

Mountains and Molehills

Two weeks into the siege at Terminal City, Sketchy got a nosebleed. It was the first in his life not prompted by a fist to the face.

He considered keeping the whole thing to himself. He was, after all, still trying to sweet talk an interview out of some key Manticore alumni. Then he remembered Original Cindy and Logan, and the ass kicking Max would dole out when he tried to explain why he had allowed her best friend and "not like that" boyfriend to remain in harm's way after he knew the toxins that surrounded them had begun to show side effects. No, clamming up here was not an option.

Telling Max, however, was a whole other, equally unappealing, ball of wax. Her already prickly disposition was morphing into something downright unpleasant with the pressures of leadership.

In the wake of the siege at Jam Pony and their decision to stand against the Seattle PD, the citizens of Terminal City were eager for some direction. A few inspiring speeches and a flag raising later, and the swelling masses seemed to be appeased. But as days turned into weeks, the natives were growing more and more restless.

"We may be soldiers," Max had announced, "but we need to prove to them that we're capable of finding a nonviolent solution. We need to convince them there's more to us than what Manticore made us to be."

As expected, that proclamation went over like a lead balloon.

If there was one thing that Sketchy had learned in the short time he'd spent observing transgenics, it was that few of them shared Max's venom for their creators. True, they may not have appreciated the brainwashing, the torture, and the relentless training. But what Manticore had done to them didn't seem to effect how they saw themselves, and Sketchy saw the transgenics as a proud species.

For the most part they seemed to revel in their otherness, the strength and skills built into them at a cellular level. Alec called them "genetically empowered". What he meant to say, and what many transgenics believed, was "better".

Max's growing dissenters didn't feel like they had anything to prove, anyone to convince. There was "us" and there was "them" and, as a qualified member of "them", Sketchy had no desire to go against the will of a population of hard-nosed, well-trained super soldiers.

A couple of sick ordinaries were small potatoes compared to facing down a hostile public, the police and the NSA, not to mention Agent White and his weirdo Breeding Cult.

He also had no desire to go head to head with an irritable and overwhelmed Max, at least not without some proper back up. Decision made, he finished cleaning the blood off his face and headed toward the armory in search of reinforcements.