Dark Angel Big Bang - "Apocalypse Now and Later" Chapter 1
Chapter One
The middle of the night was always the loneliest. It always had been, even before she’d entirely understood what loneliest meant.
It was the terror of ‘Nomlies in the basement. It was the fear and pain of shakes, hidden from guards and doctors and even your unit mates. It was the empty hollow in the center of her chest all those nights, alone in her cell, aching for something she couldn’t even name.
But now she could name it. Their names echoed in empty spaces, their faces haunted her through the darkness. Wonderful Steve and sweet little Johnny. They’d been part of her job, but then had grown into a love and a family she’d never been allowed to have before, all thanks to Manticore. And then she’d lost them because of that damn place.
While the physical body had been burned to ash, its memory and terror rose like some ghost and chased her down, through some maniac named White and her apparently perfect clone, 452.
Max.
Max had been the reason her family had been pulled into danger and her own despised identity resurrected. Because of Max’s actions, she - “the cheap knock off” - found out that human love could only carry so far. It carried over the Canadian border after the rescue, new identities and the promise of new danger free lives promised by Max and her cohort of friends and followers. It had carried through the journey across the bleak and back country land they were sent to. But it carried no further than that. Human love could not survive the truth of transgenic existence.
And so here she was. Once 453, and then Sam, she was living her new life with a new name in a town that was barely a pinprick on the map, a hundred miles north of Vancouver. Alone.
She rolled over in her cold bed, eyes squeezed shut against the ever present darkness. Even in the daylight, she never saw the sun. The only people she’d ever loved - had ever been allowed to love - were gone. They had left her. It had become impossible for Steve to separate the deadly grace and inhuman power of the transgenics and the life and love of the woman he’d known. Fear was a terrible thing. Fear had consumed him and he’d taken Johnny and left her. She’d cried and pleaded and screamed for them to stay, but they just turned their backs and left her. And she didn’t know what to do. And it had been months since they’d left.
The darkness inside her matched and met the darkness of the night around her; she fell asleep, body weighted down like lead, spirit fading like daylight in the winter.
There were no dreams when she slept. Everything was just as black there as anywhere else. But tonight, she saw and felt something. A silver of light, silver white and blue all at the same time, gentle but powerful. She felt a thrill run through her heart that she hadn’t felt since she fell in love with Steve. But even that feeling had no life compared to what she felt now. It encompassed all of her abandonment, frustration and fear and loneliness. Images of redemption, retribution and freedom flooded her. And then a voice spoke.
It was soft and gentle, and floated around and through her like a summer wind, all honey and silk, edged with the metallic taste of silver.
“I know. I know. I understand. To have family, the ones you love, turn their back and betray you. I understand.”
The words were not words, but rather just sympathetic impressions of another hurt and lost soul. But they were more poignant than anything that had ever been spoken or expressed to her before.
“What do I do?” she whispered back, her thoughts taking form and floating back to the other sufferer.
“Know you’re not alone. Not anymore. I’m here.” The wind shifted, became more silver and steel, but she grasped at it like a lifeline. “So many names, so many lives! No wonder you are lonely. Such stories of a tortured life. I understand.”
“How?” she sobbed. “How can anyone else understand?”
“Shh, little one. I had a family, one I loved so much. But I was told to change, to love others that I could not, to become what I was not. So I was cast out. Others were chosen to be loved, my own father abandoned me. And my own powers, my very being was seen to be tainted and evil. And I was thrown away and locked up like a beast. I understand.”
She reached and clutched at the light that grew ever stronger. It was edged with red like blood, and she wondered if she was cutting her very soul to keep it. She didn’t care.
The voice continued. “So many names. I too am known by many names. What name do you have now, little one?”
She felt her memories being touched by the light, memories brought to the surface and examined.
“Sam?” The voice took on a surprised and hard edge.
“No,” she replied, suddenly afraid, and for the first time in months trying to look past that time in her life. “Sam was a foolish child.”
“I would have agreed at one time,” was the reply, waves of anger and frustration rolled around her. It suffocated her for a heartbeat and then receded into to cool silver light again. “But what is your name now?”
“Angela.”
The smile flooded through her, warm and sweet and all encompassing. “Angela. How appropriate.” The light faded.
Suddenly terrified that she would be left, she pleaded, “Don’t go! I don’t want to be alone!”
It was as if a hand came to rest against her cheek, soft and warm and strong. “Now that I’m here, I will never be far away. I promise you that. And I will never lie to you, Angela.”
She woke without warning, gasping. She reached up to touch her face, cupped her cheek. Her skin still tingled from the touch. “Thank you,” she whispered to the air.
Some small, analytical part of her brain whispered that she’d finally cracked from the depression and loneliness, that she’d created an imaginary friend.
She whispered to the empty room, “I prefer this to the darkness. Nothing can be bad if it brings light.”
*
The road unfurled like a smooth black ribbon before him. Wide open prairies, tall stands of pines all flash by, then sun bathed oaks, deep canyons and high mountains appear and then disappear once again, all in an unpredictable yet known pattern. The stead purr of a well-tuned engine filled his ears and eased into his very blood and pulse. His skin was warmed by the sun, but the wind poured through the open window was fresh and cool.
This was life. This was freedom.
It felt like flying, smelled like motor oil, leather and gun powder, sounded like wind, tasted like road dust and beer.
A smile split his face and he started to glance at the person next to him, someone he teased about being excessively tall and shaggy haired. But before he could, the road changed.
The light turned from golden and clear to a sullen grey. Dense pine forests sprang up between derelict towns. The towns grew to even more disgusting cities, sky lines warped and twisted. Fences sprang up, chain link and razor wire, surrounding him. His belly went cold and twisted with sickness. A shrill scream tore through the air, drowning out the engine’s roar, and splitting the very world like a lightning bolt, rending reality into shreds.
And then he woke.
Alec groaned and slapped at the alarm clock next to his bed. He missed and it continued to shrill, thin and brassy. With a snarl, he hurled his pillow at it. The round faced clock skidded across the battered table, fell to the floor with a thump and finally stopped. He pulled the blanket over his head and curled up in the center of the bed.
A voice drifted through the thin wood of his door. “Alec up? Break another alarm clock?”
“No, and no, Josh,” he grumbled. “Go ‘way.”
Joshua’s voice became clearer as he leaned against the poorly fitted door and spoke through the gap around the frame. “Max says you’re supposed to go and talk to her this morning.”
Alec groaned. “Her and her talks. Fine. Fine! I’m up.” He kicked the blankets off in a huff.
“Breakfast! Five minutes!” Joshua called happily as he wandered back to the kitchen.
“Coffee!” Alec bellowed back, and sat up. Feet on the floor, elbows on knees, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.
As if life wasn’t bad enough to begin with, he’d been struggling to sleep. And when he did, he had very strange dreams. And they’d only been getting stranger over the last few weeks. Though, he could understand most of what he’d been dreaming about. They were under siege at Terminal City, and that was enough to make anyone long for freedom and feel caged. And clearly he’d been spending too much time around Joshua, because who else could the tall, long haired person be? What he couldn’t understand was the car.
The big black thing was always there lately. At first the dreams had been scattered images of the country, anywhere but Seattle, which had been fine by him. He’d seen quite a bit thanks to various missions for Manticore, but strangely he couldn’t think of a single time he’d actually been to any of the places he’d seen, but he knew them all. Then, as the nights and dreams passed, he realized he was driving through those places, in a car that for some reason really meant a lot. He knew it was a Chevy Impala, but a very, very Pre-Pulse model, a 1967. It was in great condition, and was in the top five on the list of things he cared about while he was dreaming. The first being the shaggy haired passenger.
But the dreams always ended before any sort of explanation was given. There were only the emotions and images, no reason behind them. And he did not like the lack of control his subconscious was reminding him of.
“Alec!” Joshua called again, “Coffee’s getting cold!”
“Five minutes!” he replied and stood up. He pulled on a relatively clean pair of jeans, exchanged his black t-shirt for a white one and pulled on a brown hoodie; there was a distinctive chill in the air that morning. Then he staggered to the bathroom to shave, brush his teeth and run wet fingers through his hair. That would have to do, he decided as he squinted past the pock marks on the mirror. “Max can give me shit about looking like a slob or about being late, but its shit either way,” he muttered.
In the kitchen, Joshua had a mug of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal sitting on the counter. He was in the corner where the best light was, painting.
“Thanks, man,” Alec said after he gulped down a mouthful of coffee and poked the spoon through the oatmeal. It had just started to congeal, but it didn’t look too awful.
“No guarantees it’s hot,” was the reply. “You’re too slow.”
“Fanks, nife ‘oo ‘now fat ‘ou ca’e,” Alec said around a mouthful of the oatmeal. It was hotter and sticker than he’d expected. “This is good, Josh.”
“Got honey from Jude. He traded for one of our extra blankets.”
Alec scooped up another huge mouthful. “”Ooes ‘ude?”
“X-6. Just arrived.”
He swallowed and sighed. “Do people not get that we’re sorta under siege and this is not the place to be?”
“Lonely and afraid, and knew we were here. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Joshusa shrugged. “He brought honey. And bees. And some flowers.”
“Bees? Flowers?”
“To make more honey.”
Alec sighed. “I’m so glad I’m not in charge of all the details of keeping everyone feed and sheltered - oh wait, I am.”
Joshua bent to get a tube of bright yellow paint, shaking his head to keep his hair back out of his colors. “You should go. Max will be upset if you are late.”
“When isn’t she upset, these days?” Alec muttered and set his bowl and mug in the sink. “See you later.”
There was always activity in the command center. It was the heart of Terminal City, with the computer consoles, televisions and security monitors. It was also the only enclosed large space that everyone felt comfortable in. Considering that most of the limited power resources were poured into that building, it was the best place to stay warm, have good lighting. So it tended to be crowded. But this morning it was relatively quiet. Luke had just given up his spot by the monitors to an X-6 named Jenga, a dark skinned girl from Dalton’s original unit. While the X-6’s tended to be a bit flighty for prolonged security monitoring, Alec couldn’t turn down help when it was offered.
If only the supplies expanded as exponentially as the help, then everything would be fine.
He wove through the scattered furniture and equipment to the center of the room. A few people were crashed out on chairs and couches - he made a mental note later to find out if they had decent housing or had just opted for a nap - and there was a poker game over in another corner. Mole, who seemed to be championing the current hand, spotted him and waved him over.
But before he could allow himself to be distracted, he heard a shrill voice from the direction of the center table.
“But the meeting is this afternoon! I don’t have time to negotiate a change, and I’m not taking my people in there blind!”
Max. She spun away from the table, tossed her hands in the air before turning back, palms pressed into the table top. Across from her, shoulders hunched but face upturned, was Logan.
“I know, Max, I know. We’ll handle this.”
She shook her head. “I’ll have to handle this. You’re not going on TV.”
“Funny, I’m on TV a little bit more than you,” Logan replied evenly.
Max scowled. “After that Jam Pony incident, I’ve racked up more screen time than Eyes Only ever did.” She pitched her voice low; it was an old and good habit to protect Logan’s alter ego.
Thanks to the sewer system, Logan had managed to keep his Eyes Only operation going at Joshua’s old house, while also spending a vast majority of his days and nights at TC. There was no time or way to even think about fixing the virus issue between them, but Logan and Max burned with that hope. Alec found it nauseating at times, but couldn’t deny it. What worried him more was losing the ally and asset that Logan had become to the transgenics. And whether he went down because an accidental touch from Max, or because of the toxins in TC itself, he’d still be down. If he was going to hang around TC much longer, Logan was going to have to consider such things, along with the struggles of the transgenics.
As if they all didn’t have enough to think about.
Alec stepped forward and coughed a little. Logan sighed quietly and glanced back down at the paper strewn table, while Max straightened and tried to remove the scowl on her face.
“Don’t even try, Maxie, you just look constipated,” Alec said as he plucked up a manila folder. “So Clemente get back to you?” He paged through the papers and glanced up as Logan spoke.
“Yeah, he did. And he said the mayor is demanding a change of location. Again.”
“Again?” Alec tossed the folder down to stare at him. “That’s the third time, in the past two days. What’s his issue now?”
Max, who had stalked away from the table to pace, spun back, hands fisted at her sides. “Well, meeting in neutral grounds outside of TC was way too close to all the toxins and transgenics for his comfort. And then meeting at Clemente’s station wasn’t good enough-”
“Which is a pity, because Matt Sung is there, and we could have had a little bit of insider information if need be,” Logan added.
“And we’d need it,” Alec agreed. “Though that many cops and guns could have gone badly.”
Max spoke over them. “And now he wants it at his office in downtown!”
“Shit.” Alec whistled and propped himself up on the table. “City Hall. Is it for all the access the news people could get or the fact that it would be really easy for that place to be swamped by an angry mob?”
“No idea.” She slumped against the table again. “But there’s nothing I can do now. What I need is a set of eyes I can trust up to stay here to keep tabs on everything.”
“Mister Four Eyes not up to the job?”
Logan frowned at him, but Alec just grinned.
Her face was completely serious as she continued. “Alec, you know a lot of the people here don’t trust Logan, because he’s an Ordinary.” She flicked an apologetic glance at Logan.
“It true,” he agreed, nonplussed.
“And everyone generally seems to like you,” she continued, looking back at Alec.
He plastered one of his brightest grins on his face. “Because of my winning charm, obviously.”
She rolled her eyes, but some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. “That or they’re all as brain damaged as you.” But as soon as she took a breath to continue, all sense of joviality faded. “Whatever the reason, you’ve got a lot of people here that are you friends or at least supporters. And you’re going to need that, if something happens.”
“Max, where is this going?” he asked, suddenly uneasy.
Her face twisted in something like pain. “Listen, I have no idea where this meeting is going to take us, or what’s going to happen. If everything goes south, I need to know you’ll be here to keep TC running and everyone inside taken care of, or to make sure everyone gets out.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Alec sat the rest of the way on the table and ran his hand over his face. “Well, that’s a hell of a thing to tell someone right away in the morning.”
After a moment he shook his head, and looked up at Max. Logan had shifted as close to her as he dared, and his entire being radiated concern for both the transgenics. She stood stiff, hands locked into fists by her sides again, and maintained steady eye contact with Alec until he broke it to stare at his boots.
“You really think this meeting is going to go that bad?” he wondered.
“I don’t know. But I know we can’t risk not having a contingency plan.” She gestured to the room at large. “Every one of us know how to survive on their own, we’ve been doing it since Manticore went down. But we’ve built a community here, and that needs to be guarded as long as there is anyone here. And I think you’re the best for it, Alec.”
“That’s a stunning speech, Max, but I’m not sure you’re right.” He slid off the table and lifted a hand before she could protest. “I don’t want to do it. But I’m more or less doing it now. You somehow - trust me, I don’t even know how you did it, you’ve put Pys-Ops to shame with that brain whammy - but you got me to be in charge of keeping this place running as smoothly as possible. Which is basically impossible. We’ve got dwindling food supplies, a growing population - a population that can’t decide if it likes being inside fences or not. I don’t think there will be riots yet, but who knows, there is a city out there that would be happy to just kill us all and you’re sending people out to try and talk to them. And to top it all off, Josh’s almost out of paint.”
There was a beat of silence after the tirade, and all three of them looked surprised. Then Logan smiled very slowly.
“Would Joshua be okay with acrylics? I think I have a contact that would have some.”
Alec made a face. “Quit trying to take my job, Logan. I can scrounge and deal better than you in my sleep.”
Logan lifted his hands in mock surrender. “In all seriousness, though, it’s not a bad plan to have. Pine offered to go with Max today, as she also has a lot of experience in dealing with politicians - she was on assignment in Washington D.C. for a long time - but we decided that it would be better if she stayed back, just in case there is something that goes wrong and more negotiations have to happen -”
“I told you Alec, I need someone I can trust. We’ve got people with experience, but I need the trust,” Max cut in. “And who I know can and will do the job I asked them to do.”
He looked at her, surprise tugging an eyebrow up. Then, after a moment he stood. “Fine. I’ll be here, doing my thing, if you get yourself arrested or killed by the Ordinaries. But I can’t guarantee I’ll be here to do your job if you do end up doing something that massively stupid. Now I have to go do my job. See you later.”
Without another word, he slid through the sparse crowd in the control room and disappeared through the door.
“Huh,” Logan said. “Was that an agreement or not?”
Max shook her head. “And you wonder why I kicked him against a door the first time I met him.”
“He pointed a gun at me, so I do understand,” Logan replied. “He’ll come around. He has done a lot of growing up.” He looked around the room, and then back at Max. “You all have.”
She braced her hands against the table and bowed her head. “It’s not like we have much of a choice.”
Logan shifted closer and set his hand as close to Max’s as he dared. “It will work out. I believe it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”
“Well, to begin with, you’re more stubborn than anything I’ve ever met. You’ll succeed out of sheer bullheadedness.”
“It’s going to take more than that, this time,” she argued. Her gaze dropped to her arm, where a new curl of runes had slipped out from under her sleeve. “Aren’t these ever going to stop? I can’t deal with two ends of the world right now! The Familiars and everything to do with them can stay away.”
Logan gave his soft smile again. “Even if they don’t, you have the rest of us to help. So, let’s let Alec do his thing, get Pine down here for last minute prep, get you longer sleeves, and start planning out what we can for this afternoon.”
Some of the weight on her shoulders seemed to ease, and a few of the pinched lines around her eyes eased. “Thanks, Logan,” she said quietly. Then she turned and shouted at the room at large, “Someone get Pine in here! Dix! Pull up those blue prints of the mayor’s office again!”
*
Alec decided the best way to deal with the bombshell Max had dropped on him was the way he dealt with a lot of things - distraction. If he didn’t think about it and kept his mind and body occupied by other things, there was no reason to worry. And there were more than enough distractions.
Though if he was honest, there were a lot of reasons for Max’s plan to come into effect. None of the transgenics had been out of TC - in open daylight without disguise, at least - since the siege began. The fever pitch of fear and hate among the Ordinaries of the city had died slightly in that there weren’t any more protesters outside the fences, and the news channels only ran an anti-transgenic report once an hour instead of every other story.
But, the whole situation could go off like a powder keg with the tiniest spark of provocation. Max had been on the phone and video chat with Clemente and members of the mayor’s office all week, coached by Logan and Pine. Despite the preparation that had gone into the meeting and plans for any and all outcomes, both sides were tense. And as much stress that Alec felt about his job, there wasn’t enough money or booze in the world that would convince him to change places even for a day.
He grunted and shook his head. It was hours until the meeting, and there was a never ending to do list in front of him.
A lot of renovation had already happened throughout TC as each new wave of transgenics took up residency. But as numbers had swelled in the last week - seriously, did people not understand that coming into a siege was a bad idea? - and easy supply lines cut off, things weren’t always in good shape.
Especially when a vast number of the newest residents were X-6’s.
He was honestly unsure how the kids had made it through even the first few years of Manticore’s training. They were clumsier than even the average X-5, slower, and far less ferocious. And when left to their own devices, they tended to form packs. These were all traits that Alec and the other X-5’s had been taught were weaknesses. But who knew what Manticore’s plans for the X-6’s had been. He didn’t care while he’d been there, and he really didn’t care now. All he knew was that the pack tendency led to some interesting effects when combined with a siege in a toxic city.
His knuckles rapped against the flimsy apartment door, which didn’t do much over the racket inside. Music of several different types blared out of fuzzy speakers, and a cacophony of young voices battled over the noise. He loosed a sharp breath out of his nose and pounded on the door with a closed fist.
“Dalton! Open up!”
After a moment, in which the music dropped several decibels and the chattering slowed, the door swung open. Flushed and nervous, Dalton looked up at Alec through his shaggy fringe of hair. “Hey, Alec.”
“Dalton.” He leaned forward and around the kid’s shoulder to peer into the room. From what he could see, any of Manticore’s lessons in order and cleanliness had been forgotten. “Is that new kid Jude around?”
“Yeah, uh, he’s here.” He pushed the door open. “Wanna come in?”
“Thanks.” Alec stepped into the apartment and raised an eyebrow in surprise. The place looked like several bedrooms and a linen closet had exploded in the living room. Blankets of every description littered the floor along with a wide scattering of pillows and cushions. It took a moment, but the pattern of sleeping areas appeared, helped by the curled or sprawled forms of a handful of teenaged X-6’s. And despite the clutter, there were no bits of food, no trash or real mess in the place. It was just full and not organized in neat lines. So maybe not all of Manticore’s more useful lessons had been forgotten.
“Having a slumber party?” he asked lightly.
“Uh, not really, we just all decided it worked out better this way.”
“Honestly, I don’t care, as long as you don’t let the mold get any worse in this place than it is. But just make sure when you add a frat buddy, make sure he comes to see me, so I know that there’s a new face around.” He glanced over the piles of sleeping bodies, which were starting to rouse. “So where’s the new kid?”
Dalton shifted over towards the one couch in the room and jogged the foot of its occupant; the kid was covered in a rather familiar ugly purple blanket.
“Hey Jude,” Alec greeted him with a grin.
The kid startled as he spotted Alec through blurry eyes, and he struggled to stand up. The blanket threatened to trip him, and Alec waved him back down.
“Easy, kid, I just wanted to say hi.”
Jude ran a hand through his dark hair, blinked and squinted through the lingering edges of sleep. “Uh, hello, sir.”
He rolled his eyes and gestured to the room at large. “Clearly, we’re not at Manticore anymore.” More of the kids were waking up and realizing that there was a high ranking member of TC in their apartment. There was a flurry of embarrassed movement. “So you all need to relax. Jesus, I’d hate to see what you’d do if Max showed up here.”
“We’d probably run and hide,” Dalton quipped, and then blushed as his jaw snapped shut.
“Lately, I don’t blame you,” Alec replied, and then turned to Jude again. “Josh told me you brought bees and flowers with you?”
He nodded. “Worked on at an apiary, just outside of the city. When everything started happening, I got nervous and ran away. No one out there was friendly to the idea of transgenics, and I wasn’t sure how long it would be until the farmer started to ask questions about his workers and their backgrounds. So I took some of the bees and their favorite plants, and came here.”
“I am going to want the whole story of how you did that, because anyone who can smuggle a bunch of flowers and freaking bees into Seattle and then into TC deserves to be on the scrounging team.”
Dalton grinned. He had been one of the first X-6’s recruited to the team, two days after the siege had begun. “Great! We can go on raids together, Jude!” He glanced at Alec and explained, “He was in my unit back at Manticore. The first one I’ve met since it went down.”
Alec shook his head a little at the kid’s exuberance. “I’ll let you wake up, but this afternoon, wander over to Command, and we’ll have a chat about your skills.” He paused and then amended, “Wait, not Command. Head over to the gym, Command’s going to be busy this afternoon.”
Jude nodded and managed to sort out his feet and bedding to stand. “Thanks, Alec.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t thank me. You’ll probably wish you’d never gotten involved.” He let himself out with a wave.
The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion. From the slumber party apartment, he went across TC to the guard room, near the front gates. It seemed that every resident of TC was on edge for the upcoming peace talk, and they decided to take it out on Alec. Mole had decided to estimate the amount of ammunition used in a scenario where Max and Pine had to fight their way back to TC; he suggested Alec get on the phone to with his favorite arms dealer and stock up. After telling Mole where he could shove his “worst case scenario” inventory sheet, Alec moved onto the med wing.
The resident physician, Doc Fraiser, was also making doomsday plans.
“Alright,” Alec agreed after a few minutes of her sharp and logical arguments. “I’ll set up a donation bar in the gym, to start after lunch. We’ll get a few extra pints of blood in case of emergencies.”
Doc Fraiser lifted a brow at his tone, and added, “It isn’t such a bad idea, with Logan still around. I’m not one hundred percent sure, but a few doses of transgenic blood might help against any radiation poisoning from the area.”
“I just won’t mention that part to very many. Logan’s a good guy, but not everyone gets along with him, and if shit goes down with the Ordinaries, he really won’t be popular.”
Now fuming slightly over the fact that his distraction technique didn’t seem to be working, he went over to the area that had been designated the mess hall. With the variety between the transgenic diets, it was difficult to create a steady supply of foodstuffs that would sustain the entire population, but they did manage to create a sort of general menu for those that didn’t or couldn’t cook for themselves. It worked out well for rationing, especially with personal food supplies dwindling. Alec knew that Joshua’s morning offerings of oatmeal and coffee wouldn’t last forever.
The head cook, a pretty red headed X-5 named Aiofe, assured him that the supply of army rations and canned foods that he’d scored a few days ago would last at least another week, but that he probably should start planning ahead. She also agreed to use a corner of the dining area as the blood donation space; her crew could have it cleaned and set up in less than an hour after the noon meal.
Had it only been a week since the siege had started? It felt like a year.
The garage was next, where the limited supply of vehicles used for reconnaissance and supply runs were used. A transhuman named Tank was in charge of maintenance and anything else to do with the two trucks and the remaining van. According to his reports, they would need gasoline in about two weeks, as long as all raids went as planned. And as long as Max’s trip didn’t involve any high speed, evasive maneuver returns. Which Tank had planned for, and filled the van completely.
It was past noon, and Alec wanted to get away before Max arrived at the garage. He wasn’t sure if it was because there might be some tragic ‘I may never see you again, but I love you’ speech between Max and Logan, or if he just didn’t want to stop his never ending list of tasks. But he staggered back to the mess hall and grabbed a cup of coffee.
“Alec, don’t worry, we’ll have this all set up in time,” Aiofe assured him as he wandered to an empty table with his lukewarm cup.
“As long as Doc Fraiser is satisfied, I’m good,” he replied.
A shout from outside echoed through the open door. “Delegation’s leaving! Here we go kids!” Mole’s rough voice declared.
Alec sighed and closed his eyes. The grumble of the old van’s engine floated through the door, and tickled the edge of his hearing under the tumult of voices. It deepened, richened, and became a throaty growl. He knew that sound; it had filled his dreams like a heartbeat - ever present, continuous and familiar.
He put down the empty coffee mug and struggled through the crowd at the door. The gates were just swinging closed behind the van, and it trundled down the corridor of National Guards and their vehicles. But the displaced and soothing rumble remained, calling him to freedom and wide open spaces.
He took a deep breath. He had work to do.
*
Max survived. There was no fire fight, no direct attempt on anyone’s life or safety.
The peace talks had gone surprisingly well. Treaties had been drawn up, allowing transgenics out of Terminal City for reasons of trade and commerce; the blockade of National Guard and SPD was removed. Any and all acts of violence from or upon the transgenics would not be tolerated. That didn’t mean that the populace at large wanted the transgenics on their streets and in their businesses, nor did the transgenics trust them. But the treaty did mean that Alec and his merry band of scroungers could get out and do their thing with less resistance than they’d expected.
Not that they flaunted their barcodes around. Alec’s sources didn’t know or in a few rare cases didn’t care that their supplier or buyer was genetically enhanced, and he didn’t plan on changing that. There were more than a few X-6’s who went out and collected supplies now, and he didn’t want to risk the kids. Or his own neck. He liked that just how it was, though he might have gone without the barcode, for simplicity’s sake.
With hints of an actual future on the horizon for the horizon, more transgenics showed up in TC, crawling out of the woodwork of Seattle and the surrounding areas, hoping the access to the privileges supposedly found behind the walls of a toxic, crumbling section of Seattle’s toxic and crumbling cityscape.
The constant need to supply the ever growing population wore Alec to the bone. What little sleep he could get continued to be haunted by the rumble of that car’s engine and the desire to be free of this cage, free to complete his purpose, and to do what he was meant to do. He would wake less rested than when he had lain down, confused at the unexplained and unknown emotions. Because as much work and pain it was to be TC’s top scrounger and supplier, those emotions and thoughts were not his own.
There were shadows under his eyes and wrinkles at the corners of his mouth that hadn’t been there a week before when he inspected his reflection. It was a week and a half after the peace talks, and at least fifty refugees had found their way to TC. Some had brought nothing but the clothes on their backs, others managed to haul their own supplies and trade goods. Not that it made that big of a difference - it wasn’t enough to last. With a sigh, he looked away from the mirror, grabbed his razor and shaved.
His bike was parked in the living room - a habit stolen from Max - and he maneuvered it around Joshua and to the door.
“See you in a few hours, big guy,” he said. “Got painting to sell, deals to make.”
“Tell Rita that Joshua will have another painting next week. Could have more, but Jude asked for help with his bees, and I said yes,” Joshua called, focused on his current canvas, something looped with red and gold and green. Very spring time. “Alec be careful, too.”
He groaned. “Oh, come on, Josh! I’m freaking out from being stuck here with everyone asking me for this that and the other thing. I need some excitement! Getting into trouble might be the just the thing!”
Joshua looked up from the paint, a frown set on his face. “Be careful what you wish for,” he warned.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get stung by those bees. See you later!”
The buzz of the bike’s engine had nothing of the power of that damn car’s roar from his dreams, but it provided enough freedom for the time being. He raced down little used streets just to be alone with the wind and his mind. It had taken less time than he’d thought to sell Joshua’s painting to the eccentric but still reliable art dealer Rita, and his contacts were all on time and didn’t haggle the way they usually did before caving to his demands. All though it was completely dark by that point, there was no real rush to get back. TC could survive without him for a little while. He grinned, shifted gears and slammed the throttle down.
He zipped around a corner, going at top speed. The bike threatened to topple over, but at the last second, he righted it and gunned it down the street again. Street lights splashed yellow, irregular puddles of light that flashed off the windshields and mirrors of the curbside cars. A horn blared from a truck as he cut it off at a crossroad, but he didn’t slow.
Then, he heard it. That throaty growl of a massive car. A flash of black and chrome appeared out of the corner of his eye, turned a corner, and barreled straight for him.
He slammed on the breaks and twisted the bike into a turn. Rubber squealed on pavement and a plume of oily, blue smoke swallowed him for moment. Heavier tires screamed against the road as the car stopped hard. Wind blew the cloud of tire smoke and exhaust away as Alec clutched the grips of the bike and stared.
The massive black car stared back at him, head lights blazing, engine rumbling. There was no other sound; even the wind was silenced. The darkness between the streetlights was so complete, he couldn’t see anything inside the car, if there was anything to be seen. Then the doors flew open with a squealing creak.
Two tall, broad shapes stepped out. They stepped to the front of the car, quick, efficient, a pair of wolves moving in for the kill. Back lit, Alec couldn’t see any details beyond their silhouettes.
“The fuck?” In a single, deadly motion, the driver’s arms went up, hands meeting around the grip of a gun, the barrel glinting in the headlights.
“Oh hell no,” Alec said, and tensed, ready to move. He had a better chance of blurring than riding out on his bike.
“Dean!” the other man snapped. In a single step he closed the space between them and grabbed the gunman’s forearms.
The barrel snapped up into the air and a single shot broke the silence. The bullet blew out a street light a little way down the street.
The gunman pulled his arm away and spun to face the other man. “Lemme go, Sam!”
“What are you thinking? The first thing you do is pull a gun?” He reached over and tried to wrest the gun away.
“Let go, that’s mine!”
“Christ, Dean, how old are you?”
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Yeah, and Cas told us why we were here, I don’t know why this is a surprise!”
Alec glanced from one shadowy form to the next as the argument continued and their attention wavered. “That’s it, I’m out of here,” he said to the air, and kicked his bike to life.
They both stopped their bickering at the sound, and the taller of the two spun away from the car and stepped towards him, hands raised in a nonthreatening and pleading manner. “Wait, hey, wait!”
Alec let the clutch out a little and the bike started to creep forward, his toe scraping along the pavement. “Listen,” he said, “I have a lot on my plate. I thought I recognized the car, which is why I stopped like I did. But I don’t need to get involved in whatever you guys are tripping on.”
“Just wait a sec.” The other man stepped forward, more aggressively, but he put away the gun, which was an improvement in Alec’s opinion. “What do you mean, you thought you recognized the car?”
“Dean, chill.”
“Don’t tell me to chill when there’s a dude with my face sitting in front of me. Fuck Cas and his plans, he didn’t say the kid would look that much like me!”
“Seriously, guys, I won’t even hold the gun pointing thing against you, let’s just go our own ways.” Alec tried to nudge the bike away, but the tall guy reached out and laid a hand on the handlebar. He didn’t try to hold it or pull it away, just set his hand between Alec’s.
“Please. Let us explain.”
There was something familiar about the guy. Tall, long hair, a face that was both soft with empathy but with a weight and weariness that Alec had only seen in fellow transgenics who’d gone through Pys-Ops multiple times. The rumble of the car’s engine filled his ears, and he saw the open road, that long haired guy that he always saw as a snot nosed kid, no matter how tall he got -
“Shit.” He blinked back the dream images.
“I’d say,” the other man said, and he stepped into Alec’s line of sight. “Was I really that scrawny and - and,”
“What the hell?” Alec yelped.
The resemblance wasn’t immediately apparent. The guy was at least ten years older than he was, broader, more worn, but he recognized the eyes. He saw the same eyes every time he looked in the mirror.
“Not usually the reaction I get,” the man muttered.
“Who the hell are you?” Alec demanded.
“Not much better.”
“Dean, shut up.” Then to Alec, “Uh, yeah, this is going to be the interesting part. Basics: I’m Sam, this is Dean, and you are?”
He hesitated. There was no way this should be happening. The guy wasn’t nearly old enough to be a DNA donor, but far too old to be a clone. And how the hell did the car come into this? “Alec,” he said finally. “And you have one minute to convince me why the hell I should believe you aren’t on some nasty trip.”
“I’m not entirely convinced I’m not,” Dean muttered.
Sam shot him a dirty look and focused on Alec. “Okay. First I have to ask you some questions. Where did you recognize the car from?”
“Now you’ll think I’m on drugs. But a dream.”
“Right. Have you had a lot of dreams about it recently?”
“What are you, some sort of shrink? Cuz this is not helping the whole I think you’re on drugs or possibly crazy thing.”
“Just answer the question,” Dean growled.
Alec glared at him, and then looked back at Sam. “Okay, yeah, not about the car, but it’s always been there. For a couple of weeks now.”
“Has anybody else been in the dream? Making promises?”
Dean snorted. “That was your deal, not mine. And there’s no way with his face that you’re gonna tell me that he’s not Michael’s vessel.”
“Who knows, maybe he took a leaf out of Lucifer’s book for this one. His methods didn’t work for you.”
“Okay, seriously, I’m gone,” Alec said, and tried to tug the bike away. But Sam’s hand clenched around the metal and stopped him.
“Okay, Sammy, let me try.” Dean came and planted himself in front of the bike, eyes hard and locked on Alec. “This is how it is. There’s a bunch of asshats that are trying to jumpstart the end of the world - again - and they have plans to do it with fresh meat, because Sam and I weren’t too cooperative last time. Problem is these bastards can only get their jollies if they ride around in a certain person. Some bullshit about bloodlines. And by some weird timey-whimey mumbo jumble-”
“Dude, did you just quote Doctor Who?” Sam wondered.
“Shut up. Anyway, apparently there are two people now that fit the bill. You, and some other poor sucker that wound up with Sam’s DNA. So, unless you want the world to burn, you’re going to work with us. Understood?”
Alec just stared. Then he snorted. “Wait, the end of the world? Is this the same one that the Familiars are talking about? Or a different one? Cuz, yeah, of course there are multiple ends of the world. Obviously. But maybe you should talk to Max, cuz she’s got the runes, not me.”
Sam grinned. “I think we just proved smart assery is genetic.”
“What are Familiars? And who’s Max, and what runes does he have?” Dean asked, ignoring his brother.
“Familiars are some crazy asshats that are trying to end the world. At least for me, mine, and everyone who isn’t like them.”
Dean glanced at Sam. “Do you think they call angels Familiars in the future?”
Sam just shrugged. “And Max?”
“She’s a royal pain in the ass most of the time, but there’s this prophesy that she’s a part of. And it’s written on her skin.”
“Great.” Dean sighed, but then he grinned. “Knew you were a girl, Sammy. I bet Max is slated to be Lucifer’s new dress.”
Sam pointedly ignored the comment. “Is there anywhere we can talk that isn’t so exposed? There’s a lot we have to go over.”
The only place that Alec considered unexposed was Terminal City. But he couldn’t just bring two crazy strangers, who for all their predatory grace were not transgenics, to the center of transgenic life. But at the same time, they were like loose cannons. He couldn’t let them wander off. Not when they were talking about the end of the world - and he had noticed Max’s runes increasing lately.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll take you back to my place. But if you even hint, even think, about doing anything that could hurt my people…” He glared between the two of them, and then locked gazes with the man who had his eyes, “I’ll take a leaf out of my other clone’s book, and break your necks, and then rip out your teeth for good measure.”
They both nodded, but a look of horror crossed Dean’s face.
“Wait, what? There’s another one like you?”
Alec felt his expression go carefully neutral as he answered. “Not anymore.”
Chapter 2
Master Post