Title: New Arrival
Author: Alexz Recoro
Summary: Lyle is an orphan with no memory of the first half of his life. Why is he faster, stronger and smarter than other people? Why is the military after him? Why is he branded with a barcode? And who is the dark haired, dark eyed girl in his dreams? The one he calls Jondy?
Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel or the characters. I do own Lyle
Authors Notes: PLEASE READ! For the purpose of this fic, let's pretend several things. 1.) the last couple episodes of season one, and season two never happened. 2.) Logan WALKS! 3.)Tinga was rescued, and is alive and happy with Charlie and Case in Seattle. 4.) Zack is alive. 5.) Max and Logan are together, but not married or even engaged. (Not YET anyway.) 6.) Alec is here.
"Get going!" The eight year old girl hissed at the boy next to her. They were in the woods, at night, in the snow, both of them dressed in green, thin, hospital gowns and had their hair shaved in the military style. The boy knew this was a dream. A weird dream, but a dream. For one thing, the snow falling around him had no affect what so ever. No wind, no cold, nada. He wiggled his toes in the snow. Still nothing. Also, the girls had no face. Well, she had a face obviously, but it was blurred and indistinct, like the boy couldn't focus.
"No! I won't leave you!" The boy yelled, struggling to be heard over the howling wind.
"Go!"
"No! I'm not your brother, you can't order me around!"
"I'm your CO! Please, go!"
"NO! God, I can't lose you! We have to stick together!"
"Just go! Please!" The girl pleaded, tears shining in her eyes. The boy's resolve wavered and he started to go.
"Jondy. . ." The boy pleaded. The girl pulled him into a quick hug, a move as alien to him as the tears that ran down his cheeks. She pulled back and kissed both his cheeks and then his forehead.
"Please go! I promise, I'll find you later! No matter what I won't stop looking for you!" Suddenly, there was a rattle of gunfire and both kids threw themselves to the snow covered ground. . .
************************************************************************
Nineteen year old Lyle Carter sat straight up in bed, breathing hard, his eyes darting from side to side as he looked for danger. Realizing that it had all been a dream, he cursed to himself and fell back onto his bed.
"Great. I FINALLY get some sleep for once, and I have to have that stupid dream AGAIN!" Lyle muttered to himself. It wasn't fair. Not only could he not remember anything before his ninth birthday, he never slept, and when he did, he couldn't even get some decent dreams that could pass as memories. No, he had to get psychotic dreams about a pretty little girl kissing his cheeks in the snow as they both cried and clung to each other as gun fire echoed all around them. She had also promised to find him. . .
Lyle snorted and rolled out of bed. Yeah, like THAT was going to happen. In all of his life, well his life that he could remember, no one had ever tried to find him, or cared about him. He stretched, a tall, lean, wiry man, with broad shoulders, shoulder length black hair, and an olive complexion that hinted to a Hispanic heritage. But his huge almond shaped eyes indicated an Oriental background, and high cheekbones, small nose, and the bright intense green color of his eyes confused anyone trying to pinpoint his background. He was several days late for a shave, and several weeks late for a haircut. He had the lived-in face of someone who'd slept rough and lived hard, and mostly by his wits.
He reached up and lazily scratched the back of his neck, where his low ponytail hid a strange tattoo, a bar code. He heard a noise from outside, a deep, noisy engine.
"Wonderful." He moaned. He had just started to like this place too. . . oh well. He grabbed the black backpack that held everything he held dear or would need to survive. He had been doing this all his life. He had no idea why the military men in black were chasing him, and he had given up asking them. He pulled on a pair of battered Levi's that were gone at the knees, a T-shirt, a sleeveless denim jacket, and a pair of combat boots with thick rubber soles. He patted the pockets to make sure he had some smokes, a few lighters, and some matches, then pulled on fingerless gloves, thin leather that molded to his hand like second skin. As a second thought, he shoved two leather jackets in the backpack and shrugged on a long leather duster.
Swinging the backpack onto his back, Lyle opened the window, and silently waited until most of the men were inside, and there was only a skeleton staff of guards left at the vehicles. Then he jumped down into their mists, yelling a Tarzan yell as he did so. With the element of surprise on his side, he quickly took them all out and was climbing a building by the time anyone in the building could even respond to the cries of alarm and the sounds of the fight. Lyle clung to the wall, hiding in the shadows, still wondering how in the world he could take out eight armed, military trained men in under ten seconds without breaking a sweat, and then cling to a wall afterwards.
He didn't wait for them to figure out where he was, but continued up the wall until he was on the roof. Going for speed and stealth, Lyle began to run across the roof and jump from building to building. Looked like New Orleans had gotten to hot for this poor Cajun boy. Oh well. He wanted to move along anyway. He had just wanted to pay a visit to the town that had been his first home, the city that had been so good to him.
Lyle made his way to the roof of the building where he paid to park his motorcycle. Forty a month was a little steep for two yellow lines and a chain with a padlock, but his baby was worth it. Best of all, Mike was his buddy and didn't ask questions when Lyle skipped town for days, months or years. Simply kept his spot open until Lyle was back and ready to pay. He also didn't mind Lyle coming and going at all hours.
Lyle unlocked his bike, left a note for Mike that said he was bailing town for a while, then straddled his bike. It was a Kawasaki ZX-RR, and beautiful dark green that looked black in the dark. He had really paid to much for it, but he couldn't resist. It had been love at first sight when he spotted it on stage at the police auction, and it had been good to him. There was just one problem. Where was he going to go? Suddenly, he saw an old billboard, definitely Pre-Pulse. It was talking about the Space Needle in Seattle. Lyle raised an eyebrow. Seattle. Hmm. That sounded like a nice change of pace. All the way across the county, more than 2,000 miles away. Maybe he'd lose the mysterious men in black once and for all.
Lyle pulled his bike over and lit a smoke. He inhaled deeply, then let the smoke tickle slowly out of his nose.
"Looks like it time for Lyle to get movin', I." Lyle muttered, his thick Cajun accent not going far in the thick night air. Then he shrugged, settled his cigarette more firmly between his lips and gunned his motorcycle, taking off into the dark night.
**********************************************************
AN: Well, that's just the prologue. What did ya think? Can I get some reviews please? If you want to see something in future chapters, just tell me, and I'll see if I can fit it in. In the next chapter, Lyle gets to Seattle, and instantly gets on the bad side of most of the gangs, when he gets a job at Jam Pony, and mistakes Max for Jondy! Also, some major Max/Logan fluff in the next chapter. But if you want to see it, you have to review!
Author: Alexz Recoro
Summary: Lyle is an orphan with no memory of the first half of his life. Why is he faster, stronger and smarter than other people? Why is the military after him? Why is he branded with a barcode? And who is the dark haired, dark eyed girl in his dreams? The one he calls Jondy?
Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel or the characters. I do own Lyle
Authors Notes: PLEASE READ! For the purpose of this fic, let's pretend several things. 1.) the last couple episodes of season one, and season two never happened. 2.) Logan WALKS! 3.)Tinga was rescued, and is alive and happy with Charlie and Case in Seattle. 4.) Zack is alive. 5.) Max and Logan are together, but not married or even engaged. (Not YET anyway.) 6.) Alec is here.
"Get going!" The eight year old girl hissed at the boy next to her. They were in the woods, at night, in the snow, both of them dressed in green, thin, hospital gowns and had their hair shaved in the military style. The boy knew this was a dream. A weird dream, but a dream. For one thing, the snow falling around him had no affect what so ever. No wind, no cold, nada. He wiggled his toes in the snow. Still nothing. Also, the girls had no face. Well, she had a face obviously, but it was blurred and indistinct, like the boy couldn't focus.
"No! I won't leave you!" The boy yelled, struggling to be heard over the howling wind.
"Go!"
"No! I'm not your brother, you can't order me around!"
"I'm your CO! Please, go!"
"NO! God, I can't lose you! We have to stick together!"
"Just go! Please!" The girl pleaded, tears shining in her eyes. The boy's resolve wavered and he started to go.
"Jondy. . ." The boy pleaded. The girl pulled him into a quick hug, a move as alien to him as the tears that ran down his cheeks. She pulled back and kissed both his cheeks and then his forehead.
"Please go! I promise, I'll find you later! No matter what I won't stop looking for you!" Suddenly, there was a rattle of gunfire and both kids threw themselves to the snow covered ground. . .
************************************************************************
Nineteen year old Lyle Carter sat straight up in bed, breathing hard, his eyes darting from side to side as he looked for danger. Realizing that it had all been a dream, he cursed to himself and fell back onto his bed.
"Great. I FINALLY get some sleep for once, and I have to have that stupid dream AGAIN!" Lyle muttered to himself. It wasn't fair. Not only could he not remember anything before his ninth birthday, he never slept, and when he did, he couldn't even get some decent dreams that could pass as memories. No, he had to get psychotic dreams about a pretty little girl kissing his cheeks in the snow as they both cried and clung to each other as gun fire echoed all around them. She had also promised to find him. . .
Lyle snorted and rolled out of bed. Yeah, like THAT was going to happen. In all of his life, well his life that he could remember, no one had ever tried to find him, or cared about him. He stretched, a tall, lean, wiry man, with broad shoulders, shoulder length black hair, and an olive complexion that hinted to a Hispanic heritage. But his huge almond shaped eyes indicated an Oriental background, and high cheekbones, small nose, and the bright intense green color of his eyes confused anyone trying to pinpoint his background. He was several days late for a shave, and several weeks late for a haircut. He had the lived-in face of someone who'd slept rough and lived hard, and mostly by his wits.
He reached up and lazily scratched the back of his neck, where his low ponytail hid a strange tattoo, a bar code. He heard a noise from outside, a deep, noisy engine.
"Wonderful." He moaned. He had just started to like this place too. . . oh well. He grabbed the black backpack that held everything he held dear or would need to survive. He had been doing this all his life. He had no idea why the military men in black were chasing him, and he had given up asking them. He pulled on a pair of battered Levi's that were gone at the knees, a T-shirt, a sleeveless denim jacket, and a pair of combat boots with thick rubber soles. He patted the pockets to make sure he had some smokes, a few lighters, and some matches, then pulled on fingerless gloves, thin leather that molded to his hand like second skin. As a second thought, he shoved two leather jackets in the backpack and shrugged on a long leather duster.
Swinging the backpack onto his back, Lyle opened the window, and silently waited until most of the men were inside, and there was only a skeleton staff of guards left at the vehicles. Then he jumped down into their mists, yelling a Tarzan yell as he did so. With the element of surprise on his side, he quickly took them all out and was climbing a building by the time anyone in the building could even respond to the cries of alarm and the sounds of the fight. Lyle clung to the wall, hiding in the shadows, still wondering how in the world he could take out eight armed, military trained men in under ten seconds without breaking a sweat, and then cling to a wall afterwards.
He didn't wait for them to figure out where he was, but continued up the wall until he was on the roof. Going for speed and stealth, Lyle began to run across the roof and jump from building to building. Looked like New Orleans had gotten to hot for this poor Cajun boy. Oh well. He wanted to move along anyway. He had just wanted to pay a visit to the town that had been his first home, the city that had been so good to him.
Lyle made his way to the roof of the building where he paid to park his motorcycle. Forty a month was a little steep for two yellow lines and a chain with a padlock, but his baby was worth it. Best of all, Mike was his buddy and didn't ask questions when Lyle skipped town for days, months or years. Simply kept his spot open until Lyle was back and ready to pay. He also didn't mind Lyle coming and going at all hours.
Lyle unlocked his bike, left a note for Mike that said he was bailing town for a while, then straddled his bike. It was a Kawasaki ZX-RR, and beautiful dark green that looked black in the dark. He had really paid to much for it, but he couldn't resist. It had been love at first sight when he spotted it on stage at the police auction, and it had been good to him. There was just one problem. Where was he going to go? Suddenly, he saw an old billboard, definitely Pre-Pulse. It was talking about the Space Needle in Seattle. Lyle raised an eyebrow. Seattle. Hmm. That sounded like a nice change of pace. All the way across the county, more than 2,000 miles away. Maybe he'd lose the mysterious men in black once and for all.
Lyle pulled his bike over and lit a smoke. He inhaled deeply, then let the smoke tickle slowly out of his nose.
"Looks like it time for Lyle to get movin', I." Lyle muttered, his thick Cajun accent not going far in the thick night air. Then he shrugged, settled his cigarette more firmly between his lips and gunned his motorcycle, taking off into the dark night.
**********************************************************
AN: Well, that's just the prologue. What did ya think? Can I get some reviews please? If you want to see something in future chapters, just tell me, and I'll see if I can fit it in. In the next chapter, Lyle gets to Seattle, and instantly gets on the bad side of most of the gangs, when he gets a job at Jam Pony, and mistakes Max for Jondy! Also, some major Max/Logan fluff in the next chapter. But if you want to see it, you have to review!