Title: Paths Not Taken
Author: Era
Contact: era@wotmania.com
Rating: PG-13. The F-word will be used a few times later in the story.
Summary: It doesn't matter which path your life takes, you can never escape your destiny.
Thanks to: Infie, Maia and Merlin The Enchanter. Without you this wouldn't be what it is.
Distribution: If you for some reason want it, feel free to take it. All I ask of you is that you keep the story unchanged and include all notes. Also, please let me know where it ends up so I can check any other stories you might have there.
Feedback: Yes please. It's the only way for me to improve.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the characters associated with the show belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy. Dark Angel and the characters associated with the show belongs to Cameron, Eglee and Fox.
Warnings / Spoilers: All of Dark Angel is fair game though it breaks off shortly before the last episode of season 2. For BtVS everything up until and including the season 3 finale is fair game.
If you're a big fan of Logan you might want to stay clear of this story. It'll eventually be M/A (as in Max/Alec) and apart from in the prologue they're the only characters from DA I'll use.
Authors Notes: The idea for this story had been spinning around in my head for quite a long time before I finally got around to start writing it. This is the prologue of a story that I expect will be quite long. I'm not the fastest author out there so don't expect to see new chapters every other day or even week, more like maybe once a month. School takes a lot of my time and besides that my muse works in mysterious ways - and often not at all.
English is my second language and none of my betas should be blamed for any misstakes you may find. Without them this wouldn't be readable at all so all praise to them.
The night air was crisp and cold as the man stepped out from the relative shelter of his tent. The small fire wasn't enough to raise the temperature more than a few degrees but it kept some of the chill away, and even the illusion of warmth was better than no warmth at all. The snow had been falling steadily for the past three days and a 40 centimeters thick layer of frozen snow covered the landscape. Inside the huge camp the guards on patrol, and the legionaries moving around as they performed their duties, had trampled the snow down and created narrow paths around the tents. They had been stuck at the same place for almost a week now and the weather showed no signs of easing up.
Marcus drew a deep breath of the cold air, taking in the various smells of the camp. The air was still fairly fresh and pleasant, but he knew that if they were forced to stay longer at this place the smell from the latrines and the garbage dump would become more than a little annoying. Adjusting his thick warm coat and pulling it closer around himself, he started walking out of the camp. He nodded to a few of his friends as he passed them and saluted one of the officers.
His contubernia camped in the eastern part of the camp, not at the very edge but fairly close to the surrounding forest. The large clearing where they had set camp was ideal for the purpose. A small river ran straight through the camp and, after having spent a few hours the first day cutting through the ice, they had all the fresh water they needed. Strategically placed guards around the clearing made sure that no one could get close to the camp without being noticed. After all, the barbarians they were sent after were considered dangerous. They lacked the discipline and the training of the Roman Legions, but they made up for their shortcomings with brute force and a fearlessness that was downright scary. Marcus had fought them before on several occasions. Each encounter had been bloody and more than one time he'd survived more because of luck than skill. But survived he had.
At age 31 he'd been in the Legions for slightly more than 15 years, ever since he lied about his age to get to join the Legion while he still was only 16 years old. Life as a legionnaire was all he ever wanted. Having grown up on the streets of a small town about a day's travel south of Rome he'd never really had any family. He never knew his father and his mother had died when he was still a child. Marcus had grown up on the streets, learning early how to fight to protect himself and make his own living. As a thief he'd been successful, but it was as a fighter he'd made a name for himself. The other homeless kids soon learned not to mess with him if they knew what was good for them. When the recruiters from the Legions came to the town to enlist more legionnaires for the campaigns against the barbarians he'd been one of the first in line to sign up. The recruiters had been a little vary at first but his harsh childhood had made him look older than he was, and the hard glint in his eyes hinted that he knew how to handle himself in a fight. Marcus had left the town the very same day with about a dozen other new recruits and had never returned.
The Legion had been everything he ever wanted. It gave him a purpose, provided him with food and shelter and even a small salary. It gave him friends, and even more. It gave him a family. Over the years he'd got to know several of the men better than he'd ever known any of his family. He was respected and liked, and more than once he'd been suggested for promotion. The first time he'd accepted but since then he'd always declined, much to the irritation of some other officers. Marcus enjoyed being a Centurion, a real legionnaire. One of the ones who fought in the front lines with his comrades and actually saw the action close up. He led his century, 80 battle hardened men who'd fought side by side for years, and that was exactly how much responsibility he wanted. In a group this small he knew everyone by name and knew their personalities.
As he left the small area where his contubernia camped he increased his pace, until he reached the outskirts of the camp. Trampled paths into the forest showed the directions the sentries had walked when they left the camp to take up their guard duties. Marcus ignored the paths and trudged through still untouched snow to the east. It was one of his oldest habits. To take some time of his own just after the darkness fell and hike trough the forests surrounding their current camp. He enjoyed the quiet and the beauty of the nature. It was of course more pleasant during the summer or the spring, but a beautiful winter night could be just as relaxing and enjoyable. He never used to go more than a few thousand steps from the camp, no matter how secure the surrounding area supposedly was. Armed with his short sword he could defend himself better than most men could, but it was still no reason to be incautious.
He passed one of the inner sentries and nodded to the man as he continued deeper into the forest. The darkness of the forest felt oddly comforting and the almost complete absence of sounds, save for his own footfall, calmed him. As he walked further and further away from the camp he became subconsciously aware that he'd continued deeper into the forest than he'd ever intended. At the same time he couldn't make himself stop; something made him continue. It was almost pulling him deeper into the darkness, and the further he walked, the more distant the uneasy feeling became. It felt right to be here, to walk this path. Somehow he knew he had to do it, but not why.
In the beautifully decorated lounge, somewhere no human had ever set foot, the sounds of laughter and music was almost deafening. The party had been going on for several hours already and everyone was enjoying themselves immensely. A party at this place was something so rare that no one could remember the last time it had happened. Not that anyone thought about that now. All such thoughts - all thoughts at all except the ones concerning the party - had ceased long time ago.
The party had been the idea of one of the newer members of the group. One who'd only been granted the power a few hundred years earlier. The fact that the individual was so new to the society was probably the reason the party had happened. The older members were so caught up in tradition and the need to follow the old ways that the mere thought of a party never had crossed their mind. Several had been sceptical at first and a few had even voted against the idea. Thankfully all the sceptics had changed their opinion after the party had started and at the moment there wasn't a single individual in the room who wanted the party to end.
Everyone knew that this was a one-time deal. Something like this wouldn't happen again in the foreseeable future, but tonight they celebrated. It wasn't every day such an important part of the Creator's big plan was completed. The first steps in the birth of an entire new religion had been completed earlier that day and everything had worked exactly as planned. Christianity would spread over the world and become one of the most important religions in this reality. The Slayer would get a new holy symbol to use in the fight against darkness, one that was easy to grip and hold on to while in combat. The shape of the cross had caused some of the older to raise their eyebrows but the fact that it would be helpful for the Slayer had been enough to silence the opposition.
One thing was for sure. The celebration that took place proved without a doubt that The Powers That Be could throw one mean party if they wanted to.
Nothing important was on the agenda for the evening and some of the younger members had been trusted to take care of the few things that were supposed to happen. While a whole lot of prophecies would be made available for the humans thanks to the birth of a new religion, there was nothing going on at the moment. Something that one particular youngling did his best to ignore. The evening was so boring that he almost fell asleep before he'd carried out his duties. Rubbing his eyes, he carefully studied the current situation in the world he supervised. The birth of the various different religions was the only thing that was the same in all the different realities. While several developed almost frighteningly alike, there were several large differences between most of the worlds.
The individual sighed and wished, not for the first time, that he'd been given one of the more exciting realities to monitor. Nothing happened in this one, nothing at all. There were the usual deaths and births and a small war here and there, but nothing to capture his attention. The forces of evil had nothing on the agenda and the Slayer was sleeping peacefully with her watcher somewhere in what would later be called Belgium. No matter how wrong he felt it was for the watcher to use the Slayer like that, it wasn't his responsibility to do anything about it. Bored with the lack of activity, he randomly picked a spot to watch just to keep himself awake. Falling asleep while on watch was not something taken lightly.
The area he overlooked was a few square miles of forests and fields somewhere on the European continent. A military camp was at the western part of the area and a small village at the north-eastern corner. Needing something... anything, to do, he searched for life forms in the area and found several. Two in particular drew his attention. One was a soldier from the camp, walking alone in the forests a short distance from the camp itself. The other one wasn't so much a life form as a un-life-form. Taking a swig from his drink, he looked up the planned fates for the two beings and shook his head slightly. The soldier was supposed to die in combat in the morning, without killing a single enemy and not even saving any of his men as a last action. The vampire had a somewhat more interesting fate, he noticed. Glancing back to the scene playing out before his eyes, he saw the soldier change direction slightly to keep within safe distance from the camp. The vampire prowled through the snow in a fast pace, heading north toward the village. He took a quick look around, and seeing no one he made a slight change in the fates and used a fraction of his power to make it happen. After all, why should the elders have all the fun, partying and all, while he was here bored. What fun was it to be one of the protectors of all that is good if you couldn't use any of that intoxicating power to spice things up every now and then? A slight change like this couldn't really matter in the long run, could it? When he got no answer from either the empty room or the almost empty bottle, he pushed the thought aside and sat down to watch the scene below unfold.
Thoril moved swiftly through the forest, not even bothered by the snow that would have slowed down anyone else. He'd been travelling east for a few days, covering more land than a human on a horse could have done in the same time. He wasn't really in a hurry, but he needed to find ways to burn off some energy. The Slayer he'd bumped into a few weeks earlier was long since gone and no longer a threat to him. Silently he cursed the black haired girl. She'd killed several of his children and even managed to injure Thoril himself. The injury was minor and had healed in a few hours, but the loss of his children was much worse. He'd been keeping an eye out for new potential children while he'd been travelling, but he'd had no luck yet. None of the hundreds of humans he'd killed in rage, leaving a bloody swath over the continent, had been what he'd been looking for.
At a little more than 530 years old, he was long since over the stage where he just wanted to sire more of his kind. No, Thoril was looking for the special ones, the ones who already knew how to fight and could stand on their own. It didn't hurt if they were ruthless and used to killing too. That thought brought a smile to his face and his blue eyes glittered under the blonde hair that fell down and covered half his face. Finding humans who were used to killing was the easiest part these days. The other requirements were harder to come by. Had he lowered his standards a little he could have had over a dozen followers by now, but once you started slipping you continued to do so. No, he thought. It was better to be patient and build up his new family over the years to come. After all, time was irrelevant when you were immortal.
It had been several years since he last was in these parts of the world but if he remembered correctly there should be a village not far north of him. Fresh food and shelter for the day to come. The only thing that kept him from returning to his native lands to the north was the larger population in this land. It was easier to find villages to feed on and seek cover from the sun in.
With a mighty jump he cleared a fallen tree, a birch from the look of it, and continued on his way. Winter was not his favourite season, even though the days were shorter and the nights were longer. No, spring and autumn was when life was as best. More people were travelling on the roads or working on the fields and not all of them restricted their activities to the daytime. It was easy to find someone to feed off and you didn't have to bother to tear away a dozen layers of clothing first. He spat in the snow; the taste of cloth was among the worst he knew. The summer was a sweet time as well, and more enjoyable in the southern parts of the world he knew. In his native land the sun never set during winter, which made it impossible for a vampire to survive there during that time of the year. Still, the days were too long to be perfect even in the south and so he preferred spring and autumn to summer.
Spring was several months away and the winter still held the lands in a firm grip. He hoped to have at least a couple of children when the spring came and people left their homes. It would be much easier to find new potentials if he didn't have to do it alone.
A sudden strange feeling brought him out of is thoughts. Stopping in the snow, he stood completely still and concentrated his sensitive vampiric ears on his surroundings. He stood listening for a few minutes but the forest was ghostly silent. In the summer you could always hear animals, whether it be birds or mammals; the sounds of them still were there. In the winter however, the forests were quiet.
Hearing nothing, he took off again, not even noticing the slight change in direction he'd made. Instead of going northeast toward the village, he was moving more toward dead east. It took him a few minutes to notice but when he did it barely registered. There was something in this direction he needed to see, something he had to find. Thoril had no idea what it was or why it was so important, he only knew it was. Gradually he picked up his pace and was soon running at full speed, waving around the trees and jumping over snow-covered bushes and stones. To any observer it would have looked completely impossible. Full speed for a vampire was a lot faster than any human could ever hope to run, and the darkness of the forest meant nothing to the creature of the night. The darkness was his ally and the forests were his home.
Slowing down, he jogged the last few steps to the top of the mound and looked down the slope on the other side. A man, dressed in clothes he knew all too well, was trudging through the snow toward the mound. The clothes identified him as a Roman Legionnaire, something Thoril had hoped not to meet in a long time. The Legions were the main reason he kept away from the south these days. They were too well organized and the Legions actually posed a threat to his kind. He'd lost more than one child to the sword-wielding warriors.
Something with this man was different though. He felt drawn to the man, almost to the point that it bothered him. Studying the man closer he could sense the aura of power surrounding him. The legionnaire stumbled slightly on something hidden below the snow but quickly caught his balance and continued toward the mound. The human was moving mechanically, almost like he was in trance, and he was moving right toward Thoril.
Thoughts of a late-night snack were running through his head when something within him changed. Suddenly he knew what was going to happen, what he had to do. Letting out a slightly mad laugh he stepped out from around the tree he was hiding behind just as the human stopped in front of him. The two of them stood silently for a while, studying each other, before Thoril broke the silence.
"Welcome," he said in a language he hoped the man would understand. "I am Thoril."
The man bowed his head slightly before he responded.
"Thank you, Master. I am Marcus." The man pulled of his thick scarf and tilted his head to the left, baring his throat for the vampire.
No more words were exchanged and neither of the two individuals knew why they were acting like they did, only that it felt right.
Thoril sank his fangs into the throat of the man, tearing the veins open. The coppery taste of the blood filled him and the demon within him roared as he drank. The man's blood was rich and powerful, among the best he'd found in his many years. When he could hear the man's heartbeat slow down and flutter he quickly tore his own wrist open with his fangs.
Marcus could feel the life leave him. Everything around seemed to fade away into the dark forest surrounding him. The slurping sounds from the drinking monster got fainter and fainter until they finally stopped. As consciousness was about to leave him he felt a strange new sensation. Something wet and coppery was filling his mouth, making it impossible to breath anymore. Reflexively he swallowed the liquid, not even knowing what it was. Desperately he gulped the liquid down, trying to clear the way for the much-needed air. But no matter how desperately he tried to hang on to life, it wasn't long before everything went black.
Thoril stumbled slightly as the man's body went limp and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. He'd never given this much of his own blood when he'd created a child before. It would be very interesting to see what the results would be. But, all in good time. Now he had to continue on his way north to the village, this time with a burden to carry.
The sunrise wouldn't wait for Marcus to wake up and he needed to find the first meal for his new son. The hunger would be almost uncontrollable when he woke and the sooner he could feed the better. Besides, where you found buildings you found food. And right now they were in need of both.
He slung the limp, rapidly cooling body over his shoulders and took off at a run again. Carrying the large, limp form barely slowed him down and he set a fast pace.
The first thing he felt when he woke up was an immense hunger, unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He'd gone for days without any food and barely any water on his long campaigns with the Legion. This was worse, much, much worse. His eyes snapped open and a part of his mind reacted in shock to the clarity of the world in front of him. Subconsciously he knew it was still dark, but he could see almost as well as if it had been noon.
All other thoughts suddenly disappeared as he was assaulted by another sensation of extreme hunger. Without noticing, he growled low in his throat as his head snapped around, searching the room for anything to still the hunger.
"Here, my son," a voice said from somewhere behind him. "Feed now and then listen to me."
A young girl, no more than eight or ten years, dressed in dirty but whole clothes stumbled toward him. Reflexively he caught the girl with one hand and bent her head to the side, exposing her neck. As he sank his fangs into the warm flesh his eyes found the man standing behind her at the rear wall of the room. He knew instinctively who it was, the feeling was too strong to ignore or misinterpret. The man was his Master, his Sire.
With a discipline born from years in the Legion he bowed his head slightly before he spoke. "Thank you, Master."
When he'd drained the girl and stilled the worst of his hunger he dropped the limp body to the ground. He looked inquiring at his Master as he straightened and took a step away from the dead girl.
"Come, my son," Thoril said with a deep voice. Marcus could hear the barely contained excitement and he knew why it was there, he felt it too. "It's time to hunt," Thoril continued, and opened the door.
When dawn came about an hour later the screams had died out and faded away. What only a day earlier had been a small village with a few hundred inhabitants was now devoid of all life. The houses where the few, large, families had been asleep were painted red with blood and turned into slaughterhouses. No one had been spared and no one had been turned. The farmers, foresters and their families had neither the skill nor the ruthlessness to become a child of Thoril. It was a poor excuse for the dead but at least none of them would rise again, only to kill.
When the Roman Legion's were assaulted in their camp by several thousand barbarians at the break of daylight, one of the most important Centurions was missing. The arrow which would have tore his throat open sailed harmlessly through the air and imbedded itself in a cooking-utensil which sat above a small fire. The outcome of the small battle was a resounding victory for the Romans, as it was supposed to be. The Powers That Be went over the results of the battle and were pleased to see that everyone who was supposed to die was, indeed, dead. No one noticed that for one of the unlucky legionnaires life had been turned into un-life. The soul was released and that meant the man was dead. No further investigation took place.
As the years passed the young man responsible for the change forgot all about it. Everything of importance in the Powers' plan happened as it was supposed to, so there was no reason to be alarmed.
Marcus cursed silently as they moved through the deserted streets. Of all the stupid ideas. They had to come to this city of death. The disease, the Plague, which killed the humans had the city in a firm grip. The stench of death and decay was so strong it made him feel sick, something he hadn't felt in centuries. He'd tried to talk Thoril out of it but to no avail. His Master wouldn't listen to reason this time.
The Slayer was in the city and she was alone. All they'd heard said that the Watcher had died from the Plague a week earlier and the Slayer was waiting for his replacement to arrive. Marcus snorted. Like any sane person would travel to this forsaken city now. Death and destruction didn't bother him the slightest. It hadn't before he was turned and it certainly didn't now. However, you couldn't eat the dead. There was no beating heart pumping the life-giving blood through the veins.There was nothing living except the large number of rats moving on the streets. Bodies of dead humans were scattered everywhere, as the order of the city had broken down completely. In the early stages of the Plague the doctors had fought it with the help of volunteers. Dead bodies had been removed as soon as they were found and sick people had been put in quarantine to limit the plague's spread. As more and more people died, the chaos took over, and nowadays the few living humans only fended for themselves. The vampires were immune to the Plague of course, but most of their kind had left the worst affected areas in their search for prey. They still couldn't enter a private home without invitation and since almost no one walked outside anymore, at least not at night, it was difficult to feed.
Thoril knew where the Slayer was staying and had decided to kill her as soon as he could. Marcus wasn't sure why the Slayer had such an effect on Thoril, but there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, if all he'd heard about the Slayer was true, the blood of a Slayer was something unique. Far more powerful and attractive than normal blood. He'd never fought or encountered a Slayer himself but he knew Thoril had met one not long before Marcus was sired.
The group rounded a street corner and Marcus found himself looking straight at the inn where the Slayer was staying. The seven vampires were all old, the youngest of them well over a hundred and fifty years, and knew how to handle themselves in a fight. Thoril had refused to bring his younger children, fearing that he would lose them to the Slayer before they could grow older and stronger. Still, seven powerful vampires should be more than enough to handle one single, lonely girl.
Seven vampires would probably have been enough, if the Slayer hadn't been prepared for a fight.
Gitara Maldini had been the Slayer for a little more than one year. She'd fought and killed a vast number of vampires and demons in that year and she'd come to take her duties extremely seriously. Her watcher was dead, killed by the Plague, and that left her alone in the world. She didn't know what had happened to her parents or her younger brother, but the chance that they'd survived the Plague was slim to none.
Gitara was preparing for her nightly patrol. No matter how deserted the streets were there was always evil out there, and it was her job to keep the streets safe. Or as safe as they could possibly be when the Plague killed thousands every day. Not for the first time she felt herself almost giving up hope. The common man had no idea what had caused the Plague or why God was punishing them with something like this. Gitara knew the truth. God had nothing to do with it.
One of her predecessors had failed to locate a Belgari demon before it could infect a human. The Slayer had killed the demon a few days too late. The chain reaction had already started. The Plague spread over the world and there was little they could do to stop it. Eventually the humans would develop an immunity to the virus and the Plague would die out, but not before too many had been lost to it. Gitara was the Slayer, and thus immune to any virus the Belgari could release. She wouldn't have to worry about dying from the Plague. Instead she had only to watch how everyone around her lost the fight and their lives. She couldn't have done anything about it, since it happened several years before she was called, but she still felt responsible for it. She was the Slayer and she couldn't save the world from a demonic threat.
She had just finished arming herself with stakes and crosses when her Slayer senses picked up the approaching vampires. The feeling was familiar, but this time it was much stronger than she was used to. Not in numbers, she'd fought more than ten vampires a few times before, but each vampire gave a much stronger impression. Her watcher had taught her how to use her gift and she knew what it meant. These vampires were old and powerful, and there were seven of them.
She readied herself and took up a defensive position to one side of the door, holding a stake in each hand.
Thoril ordered one of his children to kick the door open and charge in. He hung back in the rear of the group to watch the events unfold.
Marcus watched as Miklos, a 230 years old vampire from somewhere in Greece, kicked the door open and advanced through the opening, only to be met by a stake to the heart before he could react. A slim, rather short, girl with black hair and brown eyes stepped out from behind the wall and glared at the six remaining vampires. It was the first time Marcus had met a Slayer and her presence almost overwhelmed him. He could feel the power literally radiating from her small frame.
Two more vampires lunged through the door, trying to overpower the Slayer. One was staked immediately, but the other managed to hit the girl with a blow that sent her stumbling back into the room. It was all the advantage they needed and the remaining vampires quickly followed him into the room.
Gitara staked the first vampire before he even knew she was there. They probably hadn't expected her to be prepared and ready for them when they entered and she fully used her advantage. There was no way she'd get away from this alive. The vampires were too old and powerful for her to fight off alone and armed with only stakes. She vowed to take as many of them as she could with her before she died.
When another two charged at her she quickly ducked under the first punch, ramming her stake into the heart of the creature. She wasn't fast enough to dodge the second vampire though, and it hit her with a powerful blow that forced her back from the doorway she'd been defending.
The vampires spread out through the room and two of them took positions at the door, guarding it to make sure she couldn't escape. She snorted. Like that was ever going to happen. She moved to attack another of the undead bloodsuckers when a final vampire stepped through the door. Gitara halted mid-step as the newcomer appeared. There was no doubt that this was the leader of the pack. He felt much stronger than the others, her slayer senses went wild at the sight of him. Only one of the other vampires came even close to being as old and powerful as this one.
"Greetings, Slayer," the ancient vampire said. "I am Thoril."
Gitara's hope sunk even further. Her watcher had told her about the most powerful vampires out there, and Thoril was near the top of that list. She remembered her watcher saying he was over 1500 years old, maybe even older. Pushing down her fear, she slipped into an attack stance, the adrenaline pumping through her body. She wouldn't go down without a fight and Thoril was up for a nasty surprise if he thought she'd be easy to beat.
"I have been looking for one of your kind for a long time now, Slayer." The vampire's voice was deep and grating, the age of the creature almost audible when he spoke.
Gitara snorted. "So desperate to meet your final death?" she snapped. She couldn't even come up with any good one-liners at the moment but she'd be damned if she let the vamp get away too easy.
Thoril laughed, a deep rumbling sound that filled the room. "I have no intention to die, Slayer. You, however, will most certainly die before the night is over."
The vampire stepped forward from the doorway and into the small open area of the room. "It's been over fifteen hundred years since I last tasted the blood of a Slayer. But as they say, all things comes to those who wait."
"Blah, blah, blah. Lots of talk and no action. Just like always with your kind," Gitara taunted, trying everything she could to get the vampire off balance. Anything that would give her an advantage in the upcoming fight. She was already weaker than she used to be. There wasn't enough food to feed a single human anymore, much less a Slayer.
Thoril's eyes flashed gold-red as he vamped out and snarled at her. "Tonight we'll feast on the blood of a Slayer."
Gitara was ready when he finally attacked and dodged his first punch, only to be hit by a powerful kick to the chest. Her small frame was lifted off the ground and sent crashing into the wall, slumping down and landing on the dirty bed she'd been sleeping on for the past week. Shaking her head to clear it from the fog, she rolled once and got to her feet to meet the next attack. It only took her a moment to realise that this vampire was unlike any she'd ever faced before. Not only was he considerably stronger, but also even faster than she was.
She changed her fighting style to a purely defensive one and did her best to hold back the beast. A part of her mind noticed that the other vampires weren't cheering and yelling like their kind often did when one of them fought. These vamps were just standing there watching, waiting. They were obviously disciplined and followed their master's command.
She dodged another haymaker and slipped under the arm of the momentarily unbalanced vampire. Utilizing all her Slayer speed she managed to land a couple of blows to his chest before he could react and planted a knee in her solar plexus. The air whooshed from her lungs and her body felt like it was on fire as she glided over the rough surface of the floor. Her movement didn't stop until she hit the wall at the other end of the room, and this time she didn't have time to get up before the vampire was on her again. Several powerful punches hit her chest and torso and she could hear, just as well as feel, how her ribs broke under the onslaught.
Thoril picked her up and threw her across the room again and she landed with a thud. Gitara coughed as she painfully tried to draw air into her lungs. She didn't know much about healing, it had been her watcher's area of concern, but she knew without a doubt that you weren't supposed to cough up blood. Something inside of her was bleeding and that was not good. She could feel the change among the vampires as the scent of her blood filled the room.
The vampire walked slowly toward her, looking at her with disgust.
"See the mighty Chosen One. A warrior blessed with the strength and speed to fight our kind." Thoril snorted as Gitara coughed up more blood. "She's nothing but a scared little girl who's taken on much more than she can chew."
Gitara's hand closed around something she'd landed on, as the vampire got closer. She could feel her body malfunctioning. It was almost impossible to breath and her vision began to blur.
Marcus watched silently as his Sire picked up the Slayer with a casual grip around her throat and bent her head to the side, exposing her neck. Thoril sank his fangs into the neck of the Slayer and his eyes widened in shock for a fraction of a second before he turned to dust.
Gitara fell limply to the floor, dropping the stake she'd landed on, grabbed and finally used to destroy the vampire with. She managed to send a last glare at one of the shocked vampires before her world went black.
Marcus rushed over to the fallen Slayer and kicked the stake away. He howled in rage as he sank his fangs into her throat and drank what little he managed to get before her heart ceased to beat. The taste of the blood and the power he felt surging through him almost overwhelmed him. This was nothing like normal blood. He felt like he'd been supercharged, stronger and faster. He dropped the limp body to the ground and stared at it in amazement. So much power in such a small body.
His sire was dead, but he'd had a taste of a power so great that he couldn't have imagined it to exist. He felt like crying and cheering at the same time. Cheering because he knew, just knew, that this power could be used to his advantage. Crying because he also knew that he wouldn't be able to taste the blood of a Slayer when he wanted, and after having it every other kind of blood would feel inadequate.
Marcus looked up from the fallen warrior to the three remaining vampires. They still seemed to be in a state of shock from losing their sire. With a growl he got their attention and no words were spoken as they left the inn and disappeared into the night. He was the oldest of the survivors and he'd been Thoril's right hand. It was only natural that he'd be the one who took over the pack when Thoril was gone.
The Powers That Be immediately knew that the Slayer was dead and a quick check showed that Thoril had killed her. As it was foretold. Two other noteworthy vampires had also been destroyed and a new Slayer had been called. Everything was developing as it should as far as anyone could tell.
It was only one being who noticed the presence of another vampire among Thoril's pack. And that certain youngling was too shocked to inform anyone about it. How could that vampire have survived for so long, and how would it affect the future? He knew the answer to neither question and he surely wasn't going to ask anyone about it. If it came out what he'd done he'd be stripped of his powers and exiled.
And so the centuries passed by and the Powers continued to protect the good. The vampire known as Marcus didn't do much noteworthy things but preferred to stay in the shadows and put the finishing touches to his plans. He'd learned in the Legion that a well thought out plan often won you the battle, even against more powerful enemies. And the Slayer was powerful indeed, as he'd witnessed and tasted first hand.
The atmosphere at Crash was exactly like any other night. The music was pumping in a loud beat and the smell of beer and other beverages were thick in the air. Every now and then cheering could be heard from the direction of the pool tables in the back of the club. The Jam Pony gang was seated at their usual table, pitchers of beer and glasses lined up in front of them. Sketchy was already half drunk and setting himself up for a mother of all hangovers. Original Cindy was there, but at the same time not. Her mind currently focused on some long-legged blonde at the bar. In short, everything was perfectly normal, right down to the ever-present banter between the two transgenics.
"Shut up!" Max hissed. "Just shut up for once!" She sent Alec a death-glare, trying to add some weight to her words.
Alec smirked and winked at her. "Aww, come on Maxie. You know just as well as I do why you keep bringing up my ass all the time."
"Right, in your dreams," Max shot back.
"I'm gonna kick your ass, Alec." Alec failed miserably to imitate Max, mostly due to the fact that he was trying so hard not to laugh.
"You're such an ass!"
"Asshole!"
Max eyes got darker and darker and Alec knew exactly the moment she'd explode.
"Come on Maxie, if you want a closer look at my ass, all you have to do is ask."
Alec leaned back in his chair slightly, increasing the distance between them exactly enough to avoid the punch clearly not directed at his ass.
"Can't keep yourself from touching me, huh?" There was no need to really see his face to check if the smirk was there, it was almost audible.
Max shifted her position in the chair slightly to deliver another punch, this time making sure there was no way for him to get away.
*Beep* *beep* *beep*
Her hand immediately went to her pocket to check her pager, Alec temporarily forgotten.
"Gee, I *wonder* who that can be," Alec said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Max glared at him and opened her mouth to verbally destroy him.
"No, no, no, wait!" Alec interrupted her. "Let me guess. Who could it be? Ah! I know! Logan!"
Max tried unsuccessfully to burn a hole through Alec's head with her gaze. Truth be told, if looks could kill he'd probably already been dead several times over, which made her attempt a little ridiculous.
Alec's face transformed from smirking into a picture of deep thought. "Does anyone else even have the number to your pager?"
"Original Cindy does."
Both transgenics turned to face their friend, a look of surprise on their faces.
"Aiight, you two just go ahead and forget 'bout us," Original Cindy waved a hand in Sketchy's direction.
Sketchy stared at them in a drunken haze, his eyes wandering from Max to Alec and finally to Original Cindy, only to start over again. "What?" he finally asked. "Did I miss something?"
Original Cindy shared an amused look with the two transgenics and shook her head sadly. "C'mon boo, let's go check out the honeys at the bar." And with that she dragged Sketchy away from the table.
Max watched them leave before she glanced at her pager again. Alec sighed dramatically and pulled out his cell phone. "You know Max. It would be a lot easier if you just got yourself your own phone." Alec started. "Every time he calls you just bum my phone to call him back."
"Exactly!" Max agreed. "This way I always have a phone close by and I never pay any bills." She flashed a smile at him as she snatched the phone from his hand and pressed speed-dial.
"Bills?" Alec looked genuinely confused.
"Phone bills, Alec, it costs money to use the phone."
Alec waited a few seconds before he answered, making sure to deliver the punch line exactly when Logan picked up the phone to answer her call.
"Oh, that," he started, waving his hand dismissively. "Dix hacked a couple of phones for us, you could probably have a few for yourself if you asked nicely." He flashed her a grin and retreated out of her reach again.
"What!?" she snapped, just as Logan lifted the phone on the other side.
Alec concentrated on hearing the conversation over the phone and was more than a little disappointed when Logan didn't even react to the unconventional greeting.
'Hi Max. Do you think you and Alec could come over as soon as possible? I've got something important to show you.'
Alec thought that Logan maybe sounded a little more uptight than normally but wrote it off as something he probably didn't want to know about anyway. The hacker had probably got a new e-mail program or something equally stupid to play with.
"Yeah, sure Logan. We'll be rig.." She didn't get any further before the phone on the other end of the line was hung up.
Max frowned and looked questioningly at Alec, who just shrugged. Who knew what Logan was up to? It wasn't like he used to be a guy for small talk in the first place. Things hadn't exactly changed for the better after Max had told him she and Alec were together.
Max tossed the cell back to Alec and grabbed her jacket from the chair. "I'll just let OC know where we're going," she said and headed off in the direction of the bar.
Alec took his own jacket and headed for the exit, waving goodbye to people he knew and throwing in the occasional wink to some of the women.
The ride over to Joshua's old house passed quickly as Max did her best to rattle Alec with her driving, pressing her Ninja to its limits. She shot him an irritated glare as she pulled up in front of the house. Alec rolled his eyes and smirked at her. Everything was normal.
They quickly jogged up the stairs to the door and walked in without knocking.
"Hey Logan. We're..." The sight that met them wasn't exactly what they had expected. "...here," Max trailed off, as the sound of gun-safeties being released filled the room.
Alec glanced over his shoulder and saw several men with guns approaching the door, blocking their only escape route.
Logan was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, his arms and legs bound to the chair with handcuffs. His computer and various other electronic equipment was spread over the floor, most of it smashed to pieces and clearly no longer operational. What caught the eyes of the transgenics weren't the destroyed computers or the otherwise trashed interior of the house. No, what stopped them dead in their tracks was the bloody hole in the chest of the bound hacker. Logan Cale was very much dead and Eyes Only had done his last cable hack.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't my two least favorite freaks," White snarled from where he stood, casually leaning against an upended table.
Without letting out a sound Max launched herself at him with murder in her eyes. Even with the full speed of an X5 she only got half the distance before one of the familiars opened fire. The bullet caught her high in the right side of the chest. The hollow-point slug expanded and almost ripped her arm off at the shoulder. The force of the impact spun her around and she dropped to the floor in an ungraceful heap. It was only the tough build of a pure Manticorean, combined with old-fashioned stubbornness that allowed her to remain conscious.
Alec reacted almost before the shot had been fired and his hands closed around the throat of the man who fired before anyone else could react. He snapped the Familiar's neck, almost tearing his head off, and abruptly launched himself at the next man.
Max watched helpless as the Familiars let loose a hail of bullets at Alec. No matter how fast he was, he couldn't dodge them all. The first bullet hit him in the left thigh, making him stumble slightly and slowing him down enough for the cultists to hit him again. Which they did.
"Alec!" Max screamed as he went down. She gritted her teeth and fought against the pain as she got to her feet and stumbled toward the fallen man, the Familiars and everything else temporarily forgotten.
One of the Familiars swung his gun around in her direction but was stopped before he could fire by a gesture from White.
Max fell to her knees besides Alec, her good arm automatically going to his face to brush away a few stray hairs from his eyes.
His chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm, and he breathed with a rasping sound. Blood was bubbling from his mouth with every breath and she knew at least one of the shots had penetrated a lung.
"Alec," she whispered. "Please don't do this, don't die on me." Her voice cracked as she started sobbing against his chest. "You're supposed to be there for me, driving me crazy. Don't you dare die and leave me alone!" The effect of the order was slightly weakened by her constant sobbing.
"Ma-ax," Alec croaked.
"Come on Alec, don't leave me!" Max pleaded as she desperately tried to stop the bleeding with her one good arm.
"Don.. don't worry Maxie," Alec halted mid-sentence with a cough, blood pouring out of the corners of his mouth. "I'll never leave you."
His voice grew fainter and fainter as the life poured out of him from his numerous wounds.
"I l... lo.." his chest rose again, a last painful breath before he let out the air for the last time. "...you..."
Max collapsed on top of him, her face buried in his blood soaked shirt as she cried.
"Now, that was fun. I'm almost tempted to let you live only to watch you cry over this animal."
Max was roughly pulled back to here and now when White's boot connected with her side with enough force to lift her off Alec's body.
She hissed in pain, the sudden movement sending spikes of pain through her wounded shoulder. Gritting her teeth she did her best to glare defiantly at White, not quite succeeding as the tears wouldn't stop.
"You'll never find your son if you kill me," she spat.
"Oh, don't worry about him. I've already sent a team to collect him - and kill every single person they find with him."
He gestured toward the body of Logan. "You'll be surprised what some people are willing to give up to save themselves some pain," White said, his voice thick with disgust. "I didn't even have to touch him, only explain what I'd do to him if he refused to talk."
Max blinked twice in surprise, having completely forgotten about Logan when Alec was shot.
"But don't worry. The weak trash like this," he kicked the chair with the bound corpse and watched as it toppled over, "will soon be gone forever."
"It is time for The Coming. We will take our rightful place as the rulers of this world and there is nothing that can stop us." White's eyes gleamed with the fire of a true fanatic.
"But first," White walked over to where Max was slumped on the ground and grabbed a fistful of hair, "I'm going to do something I've put off ever since you kidnapped my son." He yanked her up to a kneeling position and she had to force herself from screaming. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
"I'd ask if you have any last wishes but frankly I don't give a shit." He raised his gun and the last thing she saw was the muzzle-flash of a gun.
Alec found himself standing in a large, no... make that huge, hall that looked like it could have been pulled straight out of a fantasy novel. Paintings and other decorations covered the walls and there were statues *everywhere*. His Feline DNA soon took control and he started to explore the place. It didn't look like the hall ever ended, and he walked for several minutes without seeming to get anywhere. It then struck him that no matter how richly decorated the hall was, there weren't any colored windows or anything like that. In fact there were no windows at all.
It didn't look like anyone else was around but he did a quick check of his surroundings to be sure. When he felt secure enough he sat down against the wall and drew a deep breath. What the hell happened? Where was he? Why was he here? And most importantly, where was Max?
He closed his eyes and tried to recall his memories like he'd been taught. A second later he wished he'd never done that as the images flooded his mind. Oh God!
He was dead! But he wasn't? Or was he? Was this heaven, or was it hell? He'd never believed in any higher power, the nature of his life so against any religious belief that he'd found the thought of a God to be ridiculous. But how could he still exist if he'd been killed? Feeling the beginnings of a massive headache, he groaned loudly. This had the potential to rival several bottles of scotch and hours of verbal abuse from Max. Where was a bottle of painkillers when you needed them?
To make things even better someone started to bang on a door a few meters to his left. Great, just great! There hadn't even been a door there when he sat down a minute earlier. That's when the shouting started.
This was hell. He just knew it.
Max's eyes snapped open in total darkness. Years of training made her close her eyes again and concentrate on her other senses. Most of the time if you woke up in a dark place without any knowledge of how you got there it was because things had went very wrong.
She focused on her smell and her hearing, two of her senses she could use without giving away that she was conscious and which also didn't require light to work. The room, she had to assume it was a room, smelled of chemicals, soap, polish and window-cleanser being the ones to stand out among the others. Everything was silent. And she really meant *everything*.
Confident that at least no one was around to watch her she opened her eyes and waited for a fraction of a second while they adjusted to the dark around her. The room, however, was completely dark. Transgenic eyesight was great, but there needed to be at least *some* light for even an X5 to see anything. She patted her pocket to see if she still had her pager since the display could be lit up with the press of a button and that light, no matter how faint it was, would be enough to light up the room.
No such luck, the pager was gone.
She closed her eyes again and tried to remember how she got here, wherever here was.
Her reaction was pretty similar to Alec's. She was dead but she was not? Alec was dead though. He'd died in her arms after White's goons had shot him. She felt her chest tighten as she fought back the tears.
With a fluid movement she got to her feet, and banged her head on a shelf she hadn't seen in the dark. Ow!
The sound generated from that accident was enough for her to realize she was in a small, closed space. Probably in a broom closet or something like that. She reached out in front of her and tried to feel her way over to the door that she knew had to be there somewhere. After tripping over a few empty buckets and a mop she found the door handle.
It didn't budge an inch.
She tried again with the same result.
Taking a step back she aimed a powerful kick at the door, just below the door handle. It was like kicking a stonewall and the only result was a sore foot. Who the hell built a broom closet sturdy enough to lock in a transgenic in? Oh well, whoever locked her in there was sure to know she was awake by now. She started to bang on the door with her fists, trying to draw attention. After a little while she decided to start yelling too. She might as well let them know she was displeased with the accommodations.
The banging on the door got louder and louder, and so did the screams. He couldn't make out the words through the door, which was strange. It seemed to be a normal closet door, probably of wood and not too thick. He should have been able to hear a normal conversation through a door like that, the shouts even easier.
He got to his feet and walked over to the door. Whoever or whatever was on the other side obviously wanted out. Oh well, why wait. It wasn't likely the shouting and banging would stop any time soon and it was getting on his nerves. He reached out and twisted the doorknob, opening the door.
And got a fist to his shoulder for the effort.
He stumbled back slightly but quickly caught himself and slipped into a defensive stance, ready to take on whatever threat he'd released.
His jaw dropped to the floor as the person stepped through the open door.
"Max?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.
"Alec?" Max sounded absolutely shocked. "But you're... dead?"
"Well, yeah, join the club," Alec responded with his trademark grin.
"Don't you dare scare me like that again!" Max screeched as she launched herself at him.
Alec groaned out loud. "Oh yeah, this is definitely hell."
He managed to grab her forearms with his hands, to keep her from hitting him, and was just working on restraining her legs when the room disappeared around them. Alec released her arms in sheer shock as they suddenly found themselves in something that looked like a courtroom. He stumbled back slightly as Max promptly resumed hitting him.
"Max," he tried.
No result.
"Max!" A little more forcefully this time.
That was enough to bring her out of her 'use Alec as a punching bag' mode and her eyes focused on him.
"What!?" she snapped.
Alec really had no idea how to answer that question so he just lamely waved in the general direction of the seven figures seated at the other side of the room.
Max eyes grew huge as she took in the view. Four of the figures were clearly human, or at least human like. The other three were just as clearly not. One was only a few feet tall and covered with a sort of orange fur. It peered at them with huge yellow eyes. The one to the far left was absolutely huge. He... or she...? It was over 9 feet tall and the two horns added another half a foot to that. The muscular body was covered with grey and blue scales and the small eyes were a gleaming red. The third and last non-human was seated in the middle of the group, much like a judge would be. It wasn't really a figure but more like swirling mist in all the rainbow's colors, which took a vaguely human shape as they watched.
"Welcome," the being in the middle started.
"We are..." another one continued only to be interrupted.
"Who the hell are you?" Max demanded.
Alec groaned. "I think they were just about to tell us. Now be quiet and listen like a good girl."
Max glared at him for a few seconds before a polite cough from one of the seven made her turn around to face them again.
"We are..."
"The Powers..."
"That Be."
The figures said, speaking a few words each like they were afraid to let any of them talk more than the others.
"Oh really," Max snapped.
Alec closed his eyes and counted silently to ten.
"No, not really," the figure in the middle answered. "But we work for them and carry out their wishes."
"Oh," Max said, clearly not understanding.
Alec decided to take over their part of the conversation while Max actually was quiet. "So why are we here and what do you want with us?"
"We have..."
"A problem..."
"And we need..."
"Your help."
Max glared at the figures one at a time and then started over again when she reached the last one. "Y'know, that's really irritating when ya talk like that."
"We know but..."
"We can not..."
"Help it."
Max sighed dramatically and made a huge show of giving up. Alec just rolled his eyes and shrugged apologetically to the figures.
"Why don't you tell us what your problem is, how we can help and what we'd get out of it?" Alec said. "And by the way, where are we?"
"You are..."
"In between."
The figure in the middle silenced the others with a gesture, something that looked like an extremely odd thing, for someone without a solid body, to do.
"As they said, you are in between." The figure held up a tendril of mist that took the shape of a hand to silence Max who'd started to protest.
"Please listen first and I'll try to answer your questions later."
Max reluctantly agreed and nodded. Alec just shrugged and gestured for the being to go ahead.
"You are in between. Your lives in your reality ended and your souls were released to the afterlife. However, we find ourselves with a slight problem at the moment and brought you here to offer you a chance to continue the fight against evil."
"Wooha, hold it a minute pal," Alec interrupted. "Who said we've been fighting evil and why would we want to continue a fight we've already lost? The Familiars have already won."
The multicolored mist shifted slightly and Alec got the impression that the being was smiling. "We know everything about you," it said cryptically. "And yes, the Familiars have won and finally provided us with the answer to the question for which your reality was created."
Once again the being held up something that resembled a hand to silence them. "Please just listen for now."
The two X5's nodded, not really sure what else to do.
"The world you know and lived in for your entire lives is but one of many different realities. Yours was the first created and one we could not influence at all. It was created for the sole purpose of answering the question whether mankind really was good or evil. We now have the answer to that question."
The figure paused for a moment to let the two transgenics reflect over what it'd just said.
"Yes, mankind is thoroughly evil."
"Like that was something new," Max muttered.
The shimmering colors ignored her. "Your reality was created and based on science and left to fend for itself. There are however other realities where we can interfere if the need arises. Several other realities are influenced by magic and other supernatural forces. What that means is that the forces of evil in other realities are very different from the ones you faced. While there always will be evil humans, the main threats are not always human in nature. Your reality answered a question, it was the sole purpose of its existence. Neither we nor anyone else knew what the outcome would be. Other realities however have more carefully created plans. Things that are supposed to happen and things that *need* to happen for Creation to move on."
"In one of the other realities, one which we have had slight problems with earlier, there is a threat to those plans. How it happened we do not know, nor can we fix it directly. What we do know is that should our chosen warriors fall to the forces of darkness, the result would be disastrous. What we offer you is a chance to fight as our champions in another reality. Somewhere where you wouldn't be hunted and hated by everyone, somewhere you, with a little effort, could use most of your abilities and still remain unknown. You could live normal lives without the constant fear that your creators would find you again."
Max and Alec looked at each other for a long moment before turning simultaneously to face the seven. Max was the first one to speak. Like always.
"Why would we care 'bout some other world. Why sacrifice more of our lives to a world where no one even knows us? What would happen if we said no?"
"If you say no you will continue to the afterlife. It is not life in the way you define it, it's more a feeling of contentment. Forever." After a slight pause the being continued. "What you need to know is that while this is a different reality, it is not a different world. The world is very much the same as the one you've lived in, though this reality was created roughly 22 human years later, which means it's still the year 1999 there. A different reality means it's populated by the same individuals that lived in your world. Everyone you know from that world, that is everyone human, will exist in this world or come to exist if they aren't born yet." The hand-like thing came up once again to silence them. "You must realize that the ones you knew in your reality won't know you here, and because of the time difference most of your friends will be infants or not even born yet. They will however come to exist in this reality as well as they did in yours. Unless the forces of evil prevail."
Max eyes were huge as she spoke. "So you mean we can save Original Cindy and Sketchy and everyone else?"
"If you can prevent the forces of darkness to prevail the answer is yes."
"Cool, where do we sign up?" Max smiled.
"Oh no, hold it right there," Alec interrupted. "What would we be fighting against and how would we hold up against the 'forces of evil,'" he asked, making big quotes in the air when he said the last part. "And, while we're at it... What exactly does it mean to be your champions?"
"The main threat in this reality is supernatural in kind. There will most likely be human threats from time to time but the main enemy is not human. Fighting would be done mostly hand to hand, something I understand you're quite well prepared for."
They were both quiet while they let that piece of information sink in. Max was relieved to know that she wouldn't have to hurt or kill humans. Alec knew he could do it if needed but was at the same time thankful he wouldn't have to do it on regular basis.
"And the Champions?" Alec insisted.
The beings were silent for a long time before the swirling colors finally responded. "Champions fight the forces of evil for The Powers That Be. They're provided with the means necessary to do that and the directions of where and when to find the battles."
"No," Alec said. "No way. There is no chance I'll sign up for that."
"Alec! What the hell do you mean?" Max glared daggers at him. "Why would you *not* want to save our friends if you could?"
"Max," Alec warned as she took a step closer and clenched her right hand into a fist. She stopped in the middle of the motion and just glared at him, waiting for him to explain himself.
"Don't you see Maxie, it's the same all over again. Go there. Fight that. Kill this. Blow up that. It's Manticore again with another name and hopefully less torture. The whole lack of freedom gig isn't my thing anymore." He could see understanding in her face now as she began to see things from his point of view. It wouldn't be Manticore, but in the end they still wouldn't run their own lives.
"The way I see it," Alec said, turning to the beings. "If you really need our help you'll let us off the hook. We'll listen to what you say and talk to whoever you want to when we get... there." The strangeness of the situation was just too much. Here he was discussing their resurrection and future lives in another reality. "We decide when and where to fight and even *if* we want to fight. That's my terms, take 'em or leave 'em."
"Alec," Max started.
"We will..."
"Have to..."
"Discuss this."
"Alec!" Alec ignored her.
One of the beings waved a hand and a wall appeared between the two transgenics and the representatives for The Powers That Be.
"Alec!" Max shouted. "Do you have any idea what you've done? What if they don't let us go there now!?"
Alec took a deep breath and prepared to get into a verbal battle with her. There's no way she'll understand if I just explain it, he thought.
"You heard what that thing said," Max continued before he could open his mouth. "Afterlife is nothing like life. There won't even be any blonde bimbos for you to chase and no scotch and... and..." And there would be no way they could be together or even close to each other. But that wasn't something she was going to tell him out loud.
"Max, as much as I like blondes and scotch I value my freedom more. It might sound strange to you but that's how it is." Alec sighed. "And trust me, they wouldn't have brought us here if they didn't really, and I mean *really*, need our help. They'll let us go without the leash on. They can't afford not to."
Max chewed air for a moment before she pulled herself together. "Maybe you're right," she reluctantly admitted.
Alec took a step back in mock surprise. "Mark this day in the calendar. Max admitted I was right!"
Max slugged him in the shoulder and glared at him. "I said *maybe*, smart ass."
"Ahh... everything is back to normal again. I almost missed your fixation with my ass," Alec smirked.
"Shut up!"
The wall disappeared again and the transgenics found themselves standing in front of the seven beings again.
"We have..."
"Discussed this..."
"Thoroughly and..."
"We have decided..."
"To grant your wish."
Max blinked and her eyes darted between Alec and the seven. "Does this mean you'll let us go without any hold on us?" she asked, not quite willing to accept what she heard.
"Yes," the swirling colors said. "You are free to go under one condition."
"Which is?" Alec questioned.
"You will go to this address and meet the people there at the time mentioned." A table appeared right in front of them and on it laid a small piece of white paper with two lines of text on.
9.30 p.m.
"We realize we can not force you to join the fight. We do, however, hope that your sense of justice and honor will make you take the right decisions. After all, you are our only hope."
With that the seven beings, the courtroom and everything else around them disappeared and they suddenly found themselves standing in the middle of a dark graveyard.
"Wow." It was really the only comment needed as it pretty much covered everything.
They were both dressed in their 'mission clothes'. Combat boots, black and grey camouflage pants, a black T-shirt for Alec and a black top for Max. It was clothes they'd worn for countless Eyes Only missions and numerous times when they'd gone on missions for the transgenics in Terminal City.
If you ignored the whole 'being in another reality' thing it could have been a night like any other.
Alec stuffed his hands down in is pockets and the right one immediately came up with a small piece of paper. He glanced at his clock which, he had to assume, showed the local time.
The digital numbers read: 20:14
Max was still trying to cope with the idea that they were alive and free again. Or rather, alive again and free for the first time ever. She took a look around and tried to figure out where in the world they could be. From the name of the street on the note they got she figured it had to be an English speaking country. But which one? English was good though, it meant that she could communicate with the people here without any problem. She could learn other languages fairly quick but she was only fluent in English and Spanish at the moment. She glanced over at Alec who'd bent down to read the inscription on a tombstone. He probably spoke several more languages considering the extra ten years of training he had and all the mission he'd been on.
"Come on Alec, move your ass. We need to find this address and we don't have much time to waste."
Alec flashed her a grin. "Damn, if I were this obsessed with your ass..." Which he of course was but he sure as hell wasn't going to tell her that. He dodged the roundhouse kick and laughed as she snorted at him.