Disclaimer: I do not own the television show Dark Angel or any of the characters. This is purely a work of fanfiction that I've created in hopes of tying up all the loose ends that the show left us with. Forewarning: I am a huge fan of Sandeman. Even though we never saw his face, he is still such an interesting character to me and I so dearly wish we got to meet him. I've noticed there's not a huge number of fanfiction regarding him. So, this story may focus a lot on the ever mysterious creator of Manticore. Feel free to leave respectful suggestions on how I may improve upon my writing or tips as to how I can stay true to all of the characters from the show. This first chapter is sort of rough, but I'm hoping to get better as the story progresses. Okay, enough rambling from me. Enjoy! ^-^ 3

Seattle, Washington

2021

"We're coming to you live from just outside the gates of Terminal City." Behind the well-dressed reporter woman stands Seattle PD, soldiers, and citizens rallying together against the transgenics. "It's been three days since we first brought you the hostile hostage situation in Jam Pony. The standoff between Seattle PD and the transgenics in Terminal City has appeared to come to a standstill. Neither one has made any moves, except for days ago when the transgenics raised what seems to be some sort of flag." Most of the seattle police are still on alert – guns drawn – waiting for the transgenics to be forced to come out for food and water. The soldiers are positioned much the same. Though, off to the side, presumably on break, some soldiers and police chat and smoke cigarettes. Other police and soldiers are busy keeping the angry crowd of people back. They wave signs with anti-transgenic messages and shout likewise.

"What do you think of what has happened here as of late?" The reporter asks, leaning the mic towards a man holding a beer bottle. "I think those freaks are a menace to society. We should just light Terminal City on fire, if you ask me. Burn all of those mutants and their flag to the ground!" The group of people behind him cheers.

Inside Jam Pony, Normal switches the TV off. "Bip, bip, bip! There's people waiting for their packages! I don't pay you lowlifes to sit around and waste precious oxygen." The disgruntled, as usual, employees of Jam Pony mumble about Normal and walk up to receive packages from him to deliver. After handing out packages, Normal leans on the counter and looks around. Something is missing at Jam Pony. Or more like someones are missing.

Meanwhile, in Terminal City, there's nothing short of a party taking place. "Damn, boo. Forget Crash. I'm gonna start coming here to get my swerve on." Original Cindy smiles. Max looks around at the transgenics drinking, betting, joking, arguing, and laughing. She gives a single nod. "I guess we have a lot to celebrate. We made it. We're here together, even got our own flag to represent. And we got a brand new addition." Max smiles at the baby Gem's holding and rocking. Her smile fades. Although, they have a lot to celebrate, she knows they also have a lot to worry about.

Original Cindy takes her hand. "Listen, boo, it's gon' be aight. This whole thing is gonna come full circle and it'll all work out. Somehow, someway, it's all gon' come correct again. You'll see." Despite the confidence in her words, neither girls look too sure - especially not Max.

Over at Joshua's former place, Logan's busy doing what he does best, hard at work on his computer. He hopes to soon have Eyes Only up and running again, but that's still a work in progress. He needs to be extra sure he can't be traced a second time. He's running out of places to stay. However, this current matter he's at work on isn't Eyes Only related, it's Sandeman related. Logan has recreated his chart on one of Joshua's easels. He is still desperate to find a cure. Even though Max is with Alec now, he just needs to be able to hold Max's hand without dropping dead and without needing the use of gloves. Yet, finding Sandeman's proving to be harder than searching for a needle in a haystack. The scientist who started all of this definitely knew how to drop off the face of the Earth. There's no word on the informant net or anywhere else on him. Logan sighs in frustration while running a hand through his hair.

Somewhere in Canada. A college professor is on break with a colleague. "Have you heard what's happening over in the states? Word is, there's real live mutants on the loose. Made in a lab and everything. Escapees from some covert government military operation, project "Manticore" or something. There's talk that some of them may have even jumped the border and may very well be living right next to us." The middle aged man says enthusiastically to the older. The older pauses in drinking his coffee for a moment to regard the other man. He sits the mug down on the shared, white table and smiles. "Jim, you've watched far too many science fiction movies, if you are sincerely entertaining the notion there are "mutants" who were "made in a lab" running amok. The sheer technology that would be needed to create such creatures is currently inconceivable." With that the older of the two grabs his cane and slowly stands up, leaving his coffee and the younger man behind.

Later that day, still somewhere in Canada. The older professor from before is making his way home. On his way, he passes a middle aged man and woman on the street, shouting and handing out newspapers. The thick, black headlines are bold and clear. "First America, Next Canada: The Transgenic Invasion Upon Us!" The professor almost glares at the two but manages to stop himself. He rubs his head and continues on his way.

Back in the United States of America things are growing heated, not just among the ordinaries and transgenics. "The Phalanx are our best warriors. The elite of the elite. How were they not able to successfully kill that single piece of transgenic scum, 452?!" A conclave member shouts at another. The other shakes her head. "I wish I knew." The other, the older man we saw at Ray's initiation , huffs in anger. "She, this one freak, could bring down thousands and thousands of years of tradition. All of our hard work would be in vain!" The woman nods. "I know." The two share a look.

"Got anything on Sandeman yet?" Max asks Logan via a computer screen. She still being in Terminal City and him at Joshua's former residence. Logan shakes his head, disappointed. "Notta. Zilch. Not a single lead, or a single piece of information. It might as well be like the guy never existed." "Father exists." Joshua caught the conversation and speaks up. Max and Logan look at him. Logan nods. "I know, Joshua. Someone had to invent Manticore, after all. It's just... your father is very good at disappearing." Max looks back at Logan. No Sandeman may mean no cure. Where's a Manticore geek when you need one?

In another part of Terminal City, Mole approaches Alec. "We're running low on supplies here. Someone's gotta make a run." Alec looks around at the multitude of transgenics. "Right. Uh, I'll go talk to Max." Alec leaves and finds Max. "We've... kind of got a situation here." "What stupid thing did you do this time, Alec?" Max asks, exasperated.

Alec looks offended. "Hey! Why do you always assume I've done something?" "Because you usually do." Max replies. "Well, I haven't. ...It's supplies. You know, things needed to sustain us. Food, water, etc. We're starting to run low." Max looks troubled. "And we can't just go outside and steal them like we used to before the whole hostage stunt." Alec adds. He shrugs. "Unless we want to get shot at by soldiers and police, which I dunno about you, but I've had plenty of for a lifetime."

Max has seemingly tuned out Alec and is trying to work on a plan. "Just tell everyone to sit tight. I'll figure something out." Alec looks dissatisfied with that. "Alright, but if you don't come up with something in twenty-four hours, you get to explain that to Mole aka the big, trigger happy, lizard guy." He slaps her on the back and walks away. Max looks up and around, taking a breath. Leading a nation of freaks is proving to be more challenging than she considered. And she still has that whole, whacky breeding cult business on her mind. Why is she the savior of humanity and how is she supposed to save everyone's asses?

"Fe'nos tol." A familiar voice rings over the phone. Ames White replies grimly. "Fe'nos tol." "Ames, do I really need to remind you how important seeing 452 dead is to me, to us, to our ancestors?" "She got lucky this time. It won't happen again." There's silence on the other end for a few heartbeats. "Ames, the conclave has been graciously patient with you, but our patience is wearing thin. This is your last chance to bring down 452. If you can't do your job, we will find someone who can. Fe'nos tol." "Fe'nos tol" Ames replies and closes his cellphone sharply. He vows to himself that this time he will get rid of the raging pain in his ass, 452, once and for all. He's more determined than ever before. "Your time, and luck, is up, filthy transgenic bitch. I will redeem myself and this family." He pulls out his cell phone and calls the Phalanx. "Fe'nos tol. It's time to discuss our new plan for putting an end to 452."

Running out time, the twenty-four hours almost up, Max hesitates then pulls out her cell. "Logan, we need supplies and we can't exactly walked out the front door and go into town to get them." Logan thinks for a beat. "Alright. I'll see what I can do. There's a contact of mine. He has a small group that might be able to deliver some supplies to Terminal City.

The next day, a young Asian man and four others of varying diversities meet just outside of the gates of Terminal City. Two of the people with him start a fight among the ralliers and the police and soldiers' attention is drawn to the scene, moving to break it up. The man, the leader, and two others take the opportunity to slip through a hole in the fence. They quickly hide behind a wall and move swiftly and discreetly to Terminal City where they meet Max. They're each carrying a backpack. "This ought to be enough to hold you over for a day more or a couple." They hand over the backpacks. Max nods. It's not perfect, but it's something. "Thanks." "Just doing a job for Eyes Only." The leader says with a shrug.

Later that night. "Did you get the supplies alright?" Logan asks Max, Alec, and Joshua from the screen. Alec nodded. "Yeah, but you know this isn't a long term solution, right? I mean it's going to take more than a few backpacks to keep this place goin'." He looks around and then back at Logan. Logan sighs. "I know. Me and Max will figure something more permanent out." Getting the feeling he's not needed, Alec causally throws his hands up in surrender and walks off to go do something. "I can see he's still a real joy." Logan comments as he watches the young transgenic walk off. "Oh, yes. One of the many ever present pains in my ass." Max replies with a smile. Logan returns the smile. Terminal City lives to see another day.

Outside the gates, the angry crowd stays at it and the news keeps reporting. Over in Canada, the news is spreading onto their airways. Inside an old, small house, a voice comes through a radio, speaking of the events unfolding in the U.S. and the growing fear that some of the "mutants" have made their way into the country. The hand of an old man is seen quickly switching it off. His back is to us, but he seems lost in thought as he throws on a jacket and exits the house.

In the U.S. the Phalanx are working out and Ames is off somewhere playing golf. His mind is far from easy as he works on devising a foolproof plan to terminate 452 while angrily hitting golf balls into the water.

No longer able to sit on top the Space Needle, Max sits on top the roof of Terminal City. The fiery torches of the angry people glow in the darkness. Leading a nation of Manticore creations is possibly one of toughest, biggest responsibilities I've ever taken on. But I let them all out, I have to look after them. Our kind has to stick together, now more than ever. I guess I'll just take this bitch one day at a time. We got through today. We'll see how tomorrow goes. Then there's this whole thing between Logan and I. He's going to find out the truth about Alec and I sometime. Not to mention the whole psycho breeding cult on my back. How much can one girl take?

Joshua appears behind her, sensing her unease. "It's going to be okay, little fella." He looks over at the city. "...Right, big fella." Max responds, not sounding as confident and leans against Joshua.