Story Disclaimer - Dark Angel and its characters do not belong to me, unfortunately. If they did, then the series would never have stopped, for one thing. I'm not 100 certain on some things connected to the Dark Angel universe, having not seen all of the episodes yet, so if there are any glaring inconsistencies then I would appreciate somebody letting me know! I'm going on holiday tomorrow, so it might be a little while before I update again.

--Chapter One--

It was dark. A young girl was running down a downtown New York alley, her head regularly whipping around, trying to get a clear view of her pursuers. Her feet slapped on the wet concrete, deftly avoiding dumpsters and stray trash bags. As she looked behind her once more, she saw five larger shadows advancing on her. She returned to look front just in time to swerve around a pile of broken furniture. Her curly dark hair caught in the tear tracks on her cheeks, and she brushed it away angrily with her fingers. She caught sight of a tall chain-link fence two hundred yards in front of her, and her breath caught. Without breaking stride she scanned the area up until the fence, looking for an escape route but not finding one. She could hear heavy footsteps behind her now, getting closer, and she knew she had no choice. Five metres shy of the fence she jumped.

At the same moment that she jumped one of the people chasing her took a small black box from his belt, flipped a switch on its side and threw it at the fence. When it hit the metal sparks flew from the connection point, forming arcs of light radiating across the fence. The electricity shot up the girl's arms and legs, her body becoming rigid and flying back off the fence, before landing on the concrete with a dull thud. Amazingly, she groggily drew herself to her feet to find herself surrounded by the five people who had previously been chasing her. They were all older than her, in their late teens, and were dressed from head to toe in black, with various weapons hidden in discreet places. There were three boys and two girls, one of the boys bent down to pick up the little black box, switched it off and slipped it back into its case. He was evidently the leader; the others were standing at ease, their heads inclined slightly towards him.

He drew himself up and the others shifted slightly, accommodating him into the circle, allowing the girl no chance of escape. She turned in circles, looking for a weak point and therefore by extension a way out of her current situation. She couldn't find one but she kept circling anyway, her eyes dilated and flitting quickly around, taking in every small detail in the vain hope that her quick mind would be able to see an escape route.

"Give it up and come in," the leader said, giving a small hand-signal. The entire team shifted into combat mode, drawing their fists up and assuming textbook positions.

The girl continued to circle, never presenting herself as a target but still taking everything in. "No chance in hell," she murmured. "What would Zack do?" she said, so quietly that none of the others could hear her. "Think, girl."

"X5-452," the leader said, not surprised when she did a double take at her designation. "We have orders to bring you back alive, no matter what the cost. Manticore wants you back and Special Ops has been sent to bring you in. You know what that means.'

The girl looked defiantly into his eyes. 'My name is Max,' she said forcefully, before launching herself at him. She got in several good punches and kicks before the Special Ops team overpowered her. As soon as she was unconscious they backed off, and the leader lifted her and carried her gently, as if she were sleeping. They walked out of the alley, the CO in front and the others flanking him, two on either side. They slid into the shadows and started to run, silently and unnoticed.

Three miles outside the city they reached a black SUV. One of the girls opened it and pulled a small refrigerated case from the front seat. The CO laid Max down into the back and bound her hands and ankles together with police restraints, snapping her dislocated right shoulder back into its socket making Max moan, but she didn't come to. The girl sat on the floor next to Max and pulled some sterile wipes from the refrigerated pack. She ripped Max's left sleeve and swabbed her upper arm, before injecting her with a transparent colourless solution. She taped a swab over it, and used the last wipe to clear the blood and dirt from Max's face. There were large bruises on her cheekbones and jaw, and she had a deep cut over her left eye and a split lip. The girl pulled some medi-stitches out of the case, putting the used syringe back, and closed the cut over her eye. She zipped the case back up and stood up.

"X4-834?" The CO asked, closing the back of the car, leaving Max inside unconscious on the floor.

The girl stood at attention. "Ten milligrams of fentanyl and medi-stitches. Expected unconsciousness for an X5 is six hours, sir." She waited patiently for further instructions, focusing on a point six inches above her CO's head.

"Good work, soldier," the CO replied. "Dismissed," he said, taking the car keys from her and heading for the driver's seat. The rest of the team filed in the car, X4-834 sitting in the passenger seat and the other three soldiers in the back seat. They all buckled their belts simultaneously.

The CO started the engine. He turned to the soldier sitting in the middle seat. "297, is the prisoner still secure?"

The soldier turned in his seat, checking Max's pulse in her neck with two fingers. 'Prisoner is safe, contained and unconscious, with a steady pulse, sir,' he said, turning back to face the front.

"Good, damn 09er," the CO said, starting the engine. "Let's go home," he added, pulling the car out of the secluded lane it was in and into a deserted main road.

It was three twenty in the morning on January the first, 2013. Max was twelve years old, and had been free for two and a half of those years, and had seen many of America's biggest cities. All she could think, when she was running down that alley, was that thirteen probably wasn't her lucky number.

--End of Chapter One--