Cargo
By
Kel
Chapter 1: What They Seem
Disclaimer: I don't presume to own Dark Angel, I could never have the genius to come up with it
or the stupidity to cancel it. However, I do own any original characters that may appear in this
fic.
Summary: Despite the escape of the Manticore transgenics, foreign organizations are still willing
to pay a large sum of cash for a live and breathing transgenic. A group of hunters are in Seattle
looking to capture some, and White decides they may be helpful in eliminating the transgenic
threat.
Timeline: Starts during Love Among the Runes. (The Biggs scene goes WAY differently.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One minute, he had been buying a cup of coffee, minding his own business. The next, they were
after him.
The man at the newspaper stand. The two guys talking across the street. The four guys in the
Taurus. None of them had been what they had appeared to be, not to the general public, anyway.
As soon as Biggs had looked at them he had known. He could see it in their eyes. They had no
interest in the news or politics, they had no definite destination in mind. Only he concerned them.
They were here for him; they knew. They knew what he was, who he was.
Surrounded by many such people, Biggs did the only thing he could do; get the hell out of there
as fast as possible. Before they had even realized they had been made, he was running in the other
direction; the one place they couldn't go, at least not fast enough to catch up to him. That is, if
they were human. Biggs went up, to the top of the nearest building. He dashed into the alleyway
and leapt halfway up the fire escape. He grabbed hold, and started climbing hand over hand up
the outside, his feet dangling underneath him.
Upon reaching the roof, Biggs tore across the building and jumped to the adjacent one. Gunfire
tore through the air, and Biggs felt a sharp pain in his right leg. He hit the next roof, tucking and
rolling to come back up on his feet, and looked down quickly to see a small dart protruding from
his leg. He tore it out and dropped it to the ground.
Running again, Biggs wavered only slightly from the drug. His transgenic immune system fought
off the effects as best they could, but he was still a little woozy. As he hit the next roof, he
stumbled, and came to the conclusion that jumping over the streets wasn't exactly a good idea
when he was dizzy. He climbed down a pipe on the side of a building to the ground.
"There he is!" a random voice yelled as his sneakers hit the pavement.
Biggs eyes widened with fear, and he began to run again.
His arms and legs felt like lead, and he was slowing down, the exertion catching up to him much
quicker than it should have, because of whatever had been in that dart.
There was a sudden sideways rush of air on Biggs' face, and the world spun. His momentum
smacked him into *something*, though what it was, he couldn't be sure. Wall, door, pavement. .
. . All he knew was that it hurt. He wasn't certain, but the impact may have dislocated his
shoulder. Perhaps he had hit his head as well, because he was still disoriented, and still had no
idea what was going on around him.
Biggs' brain registered the sound of footsteps pounding by, and then a voice. "Hey? Can you
hear me?"
"Huh?" Biggs' muddled brain was able to almost form a question.
"I said are you alright?"
The world snapped back into full colour and surround sound, and Biggs blinked hard, shaking the
cobwebs from his brain. He was slumped against a brick wall, his head pounding furiously, and
his right shoulder throbbing, hanging much lower than it should have been. A man stood before
him, a hand on his good shoulder, holding him steady. A man. . . . Biggs blinked again and shook
his head, gasping at the pain the action caused. He knew this man. . . .
"Biggs?" the voice was familiar to him, and sounded concerned.
A light bulb went off in Biggs' brain. Alec. This was Alec.
"I- I'm okay, I think. . ."
Alec breathed a deep sigh of relief. "You had me scared for a minute there, buddy. What the hell
happened?" Alec took Biggs by the arm and led him slowly to the opposite end of the alley he
had pulled him into, toward his motorcycle.
"Not sure. . ." Biggs responded. "One minute I . . ." he trailed off. "Unhhh . . ." he groaned. "I
don't feel so good . . ."
"I thought you said you were okay?" Alec held his arm more tightly as they approached the bike.
"Nevermind, at least you're in one piece. Let's get you to Terminal City, we'll have you checked
out there." The two of them carefully boarded the motorcycle, and Alec took off at a normal,
steady pace, trying to look inconspicuous while jolting the bike as little as possible.
Once there, TC's unofficial medical crew determined that Biggs was suffering from the after
affects of a tranquilizer that wasn't quite strong enough to take him down, and Biggs just slept it
off.
********
"You let it get away? You idiots!" Jason Blacksmith roared. Mark Stromboli could practically
see the steam pouring out of his ears. Blacksmith was livid. They had finally located a transgenic
on the thermal imaging scanners, and the damn thing had gotten away. Just took off and ran, and
they couldn't stop it. Needless to say, the boss was mad.
"There was one of him, and dozens of you, and he just fuckin' ran out of here!" Blacksmith
ranted. "You had one job, and that was to tranquilize the beast! He was flying right over your
heads and you couldn't even do that!" His face was beet red.
Mark spoke up timidly. "Sir, I thought I had hit him, I-"
"You OBVIOUSLY didn't! If you had, the beast would be in a goddamn cage already! Why the
hell are you here? You couldn't even hit the broad side of a barn with a machine gun!"
"Actually," a sudden voice interrupted calmly, stepping from some unknown alcove into which he
must've been pressed, "he did hit the 'beast.' Saw him do it with my own eyes."
Fuming, Blacksmith turned to face the new arrival. Short dark hair, dark brown eyes, and a
sinister air about him, he stood several inches taller than Blacksmith. "Who the hell are you?"
Blacksmith demanded.
The man ignored the question. "What kind of tranquilizers are you using?"
"None of your damn-"
"Powerful enough to take down a 300 pound giant in under a minute," Mark interrupted his boss.
"300 pound giant *human*? Not good enough," the man informed them. "One hit probably just
made it dizzy. You need something strong enough to take down a full grown male elephant in
peak condition, in under ten seconds. Transgenic bastards got that souped up immune system."
Mark nodded slightly. "I see what you're saying, but we're fresh out of elephant tranqs."
Blacksmith watched the exchange from the sidelines, steam practically pouring out of his ears.
"And you need to corner it, or it's gonna get away every time." The man gestured to the wide
open area in which they had attempted to surround the transgenic.
"Not that easy to lure one into a dark corner," Mark observed.
"Stromboli!" Blacksmith chastised him. "Shut your mouth, you slimey-"
"I could help," the man offered offhandedly.
Blacksmith's head snapped back in the man's direction. "What was that?"
"I have a lot of experience in these sort of situations," he explained.
Blacksmith brightened up slightly at the offer. "What's your name, fella?"
"Ames. Ames White."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By
Kel
Chapter 1: What They Seem
Disclaimer: I don't presume to own Dark Angel, I could never have the genius to come up with it
or the stupidity to cancel it. However, I do own any original characters that may appear in this
fic.
Summary: Despite the escape of the Manticore transgenics, foreign organizations are still willing
to pay a large sum of cash for a live and breathing transgenic. A group of hunters are in Seattle
looking to capture some, and White decides they may be helpful in eliminating the transgenic
threat.
Timeline: Starts during Love Among the Runes. (The Biggs scene goes WAY differently.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One minute, he had been buying a cup of coffee, minding his own business. The next, they were
after him.
The man at the newspaper stand. The two guys talking across the street. The four guys in the
Taurus. None of them had been what they had appeared to be, not to the general public, anyway.
As soon as Biggs had looked at them he had known. He could see it in their eyes. They had no
interest in the news or politics, they had no definite destination in mind. Only he concerned them.
They were here for him; they knew. They knew what he was, who he was.
Surrounded by many such people, Biggs did the only thing he could do; get the hell out of there
as fast as possible. Before they had even realized they had been made, he was running in the other
direction; the one place they couldn't go, at least not fast enough to catch up to him. That is, if
they were human. Biggs went up, to the top of the nearest building. He dashed into the alleyway
and leapt halfway up the fire escape. He grabbed hold, and started climbing hand over hand up
the outside, his feet dangling underneath him.
Upon reaching the roof, Biggs tore across the building and jumped to the adjacent one. Gunfire
tore through the air, and Biggs felt a sharp pain in his right leg. He hit the next roof, tucking and
rolling to come back up on his feet, and looked down quickly to see a small dart protruding from
his leg. He tore it out and dropped it to the ground.
Running again, Biggs wavered only slightly from the drug. His transgenic immune system fought
off the effects as best they could, but he was still a little woozy. As he hit the next roof, he
stumbled, and came to the conclusion that jumping over the streets wasn't exactly a good idea
when he was dizzy. He climbed down a pipe on the side of a building to the ground.
"There he is!" a random voice yelled as his sneakers hit the pavement.
Biggs eyes widened with fear, and he began to run again.
His arms and legs felt like lead, and he was slowing down, the exertion catching up to him much
quicker than it should have, because of whatever had been in that dart.
There was a sudden sideways rush of air on Biggs' face, and the world spun. His momentum
smacked him into *something*, though what it was, he couldn't be sure. Wall, door, pavement. .
. . All he knew was that it hurt. He wasn't certain, but the impact may have dislocated his
shoulder. Perhaps he had hit his head as well, because he was still disoriented, and still had no
idea what was going on around him.
Biggs' brain registered the sound of footsteps pounding by, and then a voice. "Hey? Can you
hear me?"
"Huh?" Biggs' muddled brain was able to almost form a question.
"I said are you alright?"
The world snapped back into full colour and surround sound, and Biggs blinked hard, shaking the
cobwebs from his brain. He was slumped against a brick wall, his head pounding furiously, and
his right shoulder throbbing, hanging much lower than it should have been. A man stood before
him, a hand on his good shoulder, holding him steady. A man. . . . Biggs blinked again and shook
his head, gasping at the pain the action caused. He knew this man. . . .
"Biggs?" the voice was familiar to him, and sounded concerned.
A light bulb went off in Biggs' brain. Alec. This was Alec.
"I- I'm okay, I think. . ."
Alec breathed a deep sigh of relief. "You had me scared for a minute there, buddy. What the hell
happened?" Alec took Biggs by the arm and led him slowly to the opposite end of the alley he
had pulled him into, toward his motorcycle.
"Not sure. . ." Biggs responded. "One minute I . . ." he trailed off. "Unhhh . . ." he groaned. "I
don't feel so good . . ."
"I thought you said you were okay?" Alec held his arm more tightly as they approached the bike.
"Nevermind, at least you're in one piece. Let's get you to Terminal City, we'll have you checked
out there." The two of them carefully boarded the motorcycle, and Alec took off at a normal,
steady pace, trying to look inconspicuous while jolting the bike as little as possible.
Once there, TC's unofficial medical crew determined that Biggs was suffering from the after
affects of a tranquilizer that wasn't quite strong enough to take him down, and Biggs just slept it
off.
********
"You let it get away? You idiots!" Jason Blacksmith roared. Mark Stromboli could practically
see the steam pouring out of his ears. Blacksmith was livid. They had finally located a transgenic
on the thermal imaging scanners, and the damn thing had gotten away. Just took off and ran, and
they couldn't stop it. Needless to say, the boss was mad.
"There was one of him, and dozens of you, and he just fuckin' ran out of here!" Blacksmith
ranted. "You had one job, and that was to tranquilize the beast! He was flying right over your
heads and you couldn't even do that!" His face was beet red.
Mark spoke up timidly. "Sir, I thought I had hit him, I-"
"You OBVIOUSLY didn't! If you had, the beast would be in a goddamn cage already! Why the
hell are you here? You couldn't even hit the broad side of a barn with a machine gun!"
"Actually," a sudden voice interrupted calmly, stepping from some unknown alcove into which he
must've been pressed, "he did hit the 'beast.' Saw him do it with my own eyes."
Fuming, Blacksmith turned to face the new arrival. Short dark hair, dark brown eyes, and a
sinister air about him, he stood several inches taller than Blacksmith. "Who the hell are you?"
Blacksmith demanded.
The man ignored the question. "What kind of tranquilizers are you using?"
"None of your damn-"
"Powerful enough to take down a 300 pound giant in under a minute," Mark interrupted his boss.
"300 pound giant *human*? Not good enough," the man informed them. "One hit probably just
made it dizzy. You need something strong enough to take down a full grown male elephant in
peak condition, in under ten seconds. Transgenic bastards got that souped up immune system."
Mark nodded slightly. "I see what you're saying, but we're fresh out of elephant tranqs."
Blacksmith watched the exchange from the sidelines, steam practically pouring out of his ears.
"And you need to corner it, or it's gonna get away every time." The man gestured to the wide
open area in which they had attempted to surround the transgenic.
"Not that easy to lure one into a dark corner," Mark observed.
"Stromboli!" Blacksmith chastised him. "Shut your mouth, you slimey-"
"I could help," the man offered offhandedly.
Blacksmith's head snapped back in the man's direction. "What was that?"
"I have a lot of experience in these sort of situations," he explained.
Blacksmith brightened up slightly at the offer. "What's your name, fella?"
"Ames. Ames White."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~