Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel
Pairing: To Be Determined
Rating: T
Warnings: original characters will be featured.
Note(s): There is no cult in this or ruins, most of the characters that appear in season 2 Dark Angel will appear at some point. This is also pre-pulse for reasons you will understand. All characters will be in character, but if you feel I'm not doing them justice let me know. There will be no bashing of any characters.
Prologue
Her current assignment was complete and on its way to the Editor-in-Chief, leaving her free with the mysterious package mocking her, calling her to open it. What would it hurt? She was bored and it was just there sitting on her desk all tempting. Pulling it closer, and carefully peeling off the bland brown paper, she revealed a beautiful antique wooden box; intricate designs carved into its panels, along with what suspiciously looked like Latin script.
Unfortunately, there wasn't a key included with the beautiful trinket. But being an investigative reporter, a few illegal lock picking tricks came as one of her many talents. Curiosity killed the cat, but then again cats did have nine lives right?
With a click, the lock fell open.
Hopefully it didn't reveal anything Pandora-like bad. But this was her; she was always prone to trouble.
Lifting the lid, she half expected the usual jingle of a music box, but only silence met her; so much for Pandora.
A simple cream envelope with her name in black ink, sat at the very top peaking her interest immediately. Perhaps a last will and testament, she wondered but quickly dismissed the idea since she had no relatives left.
Madison,
I wish I could tell you this in person or explain it to you in person, but that is not possible. I left you this, to help you begin your journey. Find the others first; don't waste time in trying to track me down, I am probably dead. Everything you require is inside this box.
Be safe.
It remained unsigned. A key was the next thing to catch her attention which could either start her on a worthwhile journey or she could just ignore the cryptic message–highly unlikely when her curiosity was peaked so intensely. She could already feel excitement building in her veins.
Her curiosity needed to be quenched.
The next compartment held photographs. The first picture was of her. The same purple-blue eyes looked back at her, same dark red hair, same features. She looked at least two-years-younger in the picture but it was still her. No smile had graced her face when she had faced the camera; a stern expression covering her face instead. Turning the photograph over, she read the simple inscription x5-435, "Madison".
Many questions played in her mind, but she ignored them, placing the picture back into the box. Later, she would answer the question later.
The next was one of a beautiful brunette female, looking at something with the corner of her eyes, which as far as she could see were hazel-green in colour. Skin on the slightly tanned side, brunette locks falling down in soft curls past her shoulders, her lips painted a ruby red. The inscription this time read: x5-465, "Ingrid".
X5 before each three digit number. It had to mean something right? Grabbing a notebook she noted down X5 with question marks following it.
The next photograph was of a male; light blond hair, hazel eyes, straight nose and smiling mouth. Even though it was a photograph, she could tell that the smile probably had devastating effects of lighting up a room–Handsome most definitely. The inscription: x5-582, "Foxworth".
A beautiful African-American girl working on a computer unit, with caramel skin tone, brown eyes focused on the screen, and face serious in concentration, and lips pressed thin was the subject of the next photograph. Were all these people so damn good-looking? Inscription: x5-363, "Skyla".
The three digit number didn't seem to have any particular order. In fact, they were pretty random. What do these numbers mean? She wondered noting it down.
Next a dark blonde girl, with hazel-grey eyes and a smirk tugging at her lips filled the next photograph. Bangs were down to her brow, and arms crossed in defiance. Something told her that she probably would have a lot to say if she were there in person; she just had that look. Inscription: x5-481, "Nikita".
Hot damn! This guy was gorgeous even with the severe look on his face. On another man the long bangs that fell slightly over his eyes would have looked ridiculous, but on him it just added to his mysterious beauty. The deep blue eyes that peaked through them had a strong intensity that unnerved her slightly, with the sun adding a dangerous glint to the eye it managed to hit, hair shining brown in the light. Inscription: x5-512, "Angelo". Name suits him completely, but…why was handsome holding a gun?
Icy blue-green eyes with the lightest touch of grey would have been cold on any other man, but the guy on the next picture made them so warm. A toothy smile graced his face. As much as it was sweet, she could tell there was a lot of mischief behind it. Inscription: x5-382, "Cassidy".
The next picture made her breath catch, he seemed so…familiar. Those gorgeous eyes were just so familiar, as the freckles she was certain were lightly drizzled across his cheeks and nose, in certain innocence. Beautiful, was the only word that registered in her brain to describe him. She couldn't stop a finger tracing his jaw line.
"Who's the hottie?" Traci, her junior asked peaking at the picture over her shoulder.
That was enough to snap her out of her stupor; Madison quickly returned the photograph into the box and dropped the lid, hiding her precious treasures from Traci's prying eyes. "What do you want Traci?"
"O-k," Traci drawled exaggeratedly at the obvious brush off. Everyone was knowledgeable of the red-head's cold personality, her more than anyone. "Dirk wants you to handle a story."
A story? He was the same guy who promoted her to junior editor despite her constant protest, now, nowwanted her to handle a story? "Do you have the address?"
"Yeah, it's some interview with some major military dude," handing her the written note from the boss, "said you'd probably be interested," her eyes drifting to the antique box, curiosity shining in them.
Of course Traci was fascinated by anything shiny or expensive looking, not to mention her nosy personality. "Is that all, Traci?" manoeuvring to catch the blonde's wondering eye.
"You should get there early to get priority on a one-on-one interview," she added, voice slightly distracted as her curious eyes returned to the box.
Great, she'd have to do quick research on route. It was just like Dirk to drop assignments on her last minute and expect her to create magic. She could almost see disappointment on Traci face when she grabbed the wooden box along with her keys and coat.
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Thankfully, Dirk helped her out giving her information over the phone as she made her way to the hotel where Gen. Martin Pierce was conducting a press conference. She had to admit, it was better than interviewing boring business men whose only agenda was looking down her shirt. Besides, she did love her little dose of controversy that came with this story; a General who wants to commission a billion dollar pet project of serious arsenal. Sure the economy was at an all time high, but beefing up an already excellentarmoury was completely unnecessary!
As expected, the room was full of reporters. Damn Traffic! That left only one option; joining in on the question-answer segment after his statement, and then attempt getting a one-on-one directly after. She pushed her way through the crowd and managed to get a seat at the front next to a male reporter. "This better be worth it, Dirk," she murmured watching the door, awaiting Pierce's arrival.
"Excuse me?" the blue eyed bespectacled man beside her asked in a polite tone.
"I was talking to myself, sorry," she apologized, placing a smile on her face to emphasize it.
To Daniel Morgan, this latest plan proposed by the General was plain ridiculous. Sure they needed to beef up security, since the economy had hit a record breaking-peak and were more prone to attack by rival nations because of it. But the weapon he was looking to develop wasn't the way to go. They'd had a great project, but the ambition of one had destroyed it. What he was proposing now was nothing but billion-dollar child's play.
The General customary statement was short and sweet, immediately followed up by questions. The room practically erupted, each reporter hoping to get their questions answered. If it wasn't for her aggressive nature for getting a story, she probably wouldn't have gotten her two questions in. The man beside her was more unlucky, only getting a question.
Throughout the whole session, she had noticed a man watching her in fascination. Brown eyes were trained on her unwavering, a knowing light shining in them as if he knew her which was rather unnerving. But in her usual fashion she didn't let it show instead noting down everything she needed.
The request for a personal interview was turned down, not that it surprised her after her questions.
Logan, as much as he had tried, couldn't help admire the beauty that had taken a seat beside him. Gorgeous was an understatement when it came to describing her. Yes, he was a reporter always after the truth, but he was a man first and foremost. A man prone to beauty and the fact that she was aggressive in the question session and had a whole three-star general squirming in his seat, made her even more attractive.
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"What do I owe this meeting to, Agent Morgan?" Michael Hoyt beady, annoying eyes lit up with unneeded amusement. However, Danny knew better than to be roped in by the man's antics. It was just too easy to get annoyed.
"It seems that you are just privy to leaving loose ends all over the place," Morgan finally spoke, his tone measured, with no indication of either annoyance or amusement.
An amused smirk plastered itself on Hoyt's face as he took a seat, "if your accusing me of something why don't you just spit it out, rather than talk in your little annoying riddles," matching the man stare for stare. Morgan always did have bravado that he was better than him.
"Why don't you," opening the file on his PDA, he pushed it toward the man; a bigger smirk lighting his face, "look for yourself." The fall of the cocky grin on Hoyt's face was priceless. He would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious.
"But…she's suppose to be –" He spluttered in utter disbelief.
"-Dead?" He supplied eloquently, "well she looks alive and well to me," brown eyes watching the man who was ready to piss himself, when only a few seconds ago was cocky.
Sky blue eyes looked up at him, frantic. Worry covering every feature he had, and… was that sweat on his brow? "We have to fix this."
"No Mike, there is no we. You are going to be accountable for it, since it was your botched operation that created this," his brown eyes not even showing a shred of sympathy for the man. How could he, when he'd brought it on himself.
"It was a unanimous decision!"
"No, Andrews and I were veto-d. The only reason you weren't killed was because you were able to bring back six units for cryonics, but I'm not sure the rest would be so forgiving if they found out what a failure the operation really was," leaning back on his chair he replaced the smirk on his face. "The consolation in all this is that if Madison is alive, then Alexander should be close by."
"How is that a consolation?" wondering if Morgan was going senile in his old age. There was noconsolation! The Collective would definitely want his head on a platter this time. Even the last time, he'd only escaped death by the skin of his teeth.
Pretending to reconsider the statement, Morgan put on a smile, "that's right! There is no consolation in this for you, because 494 will have the support of the rest when he sings about your planned assassination of 435 and himself." In triumph, he propped his feet on the table, "and I'm pretty sure The Collective will commemorate that you were acting alone to save their own asses for supporting your idea in the first place."
All Hoyt could manage was a pathetic gulp. 494.
"In fact, if I were you I'd be more scared about Alexander than The Collective, because as an ally he was fierce but as you're enemy…" he trailed off for dramatic effect, as he stood up and walked away PDA in hand, only stopping at the door to add: "I almost feel sorry for you. Actually…I don't! You dug your own grave now lay in it," closing the door behind him with a satisfied dimpled grin on his face.
He had to think, and fast. Knowing Morgan even killing him off to shut him up would be useless, the bastard would find a way to screw him over from the grave. Andrews would pretty much revel in him being skinned alive by 494, probably take pictures as souvenirs. The cowardly Collective would gladly hand his ass over to 494 if it meant they'd save their own asses.
He had no inside allies, but he still had a lot of people that owed him favours, and he was calling them in. 494 and 436 would have to die if he was going to live. "Yeah…I'm calling in that favour," he spoke as soon as the man on the other end picked up.
More soon
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