--Jaci's Note: Ok, this is the begining of a big Alt. Reality Trilogy, being the Extra Ordinary series. You all may notice some similiarties between my story and BK's 'Enemies' story. This was not in any way inteneded, and after I realized the closeness in the beginings of the two stories, I emailed him and we worked it out. My story takes a whole different path than his does, so keep reading everyone!
Anyways, here is some background info that you need for this to make sense. It is 2022, Max and the other X5s never escaped and they are still at Manticore. Max and Logan have never met, but this will be M/L pairing eventually. This is going to be my longest story ever, being around fifty chapters with the second two stories being somewhere close to that. Anything that doesnt make sense or isnt explained usually comes out in later chapters. The first chapter is really just expostionary, so bare with me. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I have like 42 dollars to my name. I so can't afford a lawyer.
Extra Ordinary I
Chapter One:
Twinkling chandeliers sparkled through the windows of the Costello family mansion, the front yard crowded with expensive cars and chauffeured limos as the best and brightest of Seattle's upper class gathered to celebrate Phillip Costello's sixtieth birthday.
Phillip Costello was a successful businessman, just now reaching the peak of his power, having taken over Cale industries after twenty years of being vice president and best friend of Thomas Cale. He'd been named CEO shortly after the tragic murder of Thomas and his wife, Elizabeth, six months prior.
He was an equally notorious with his mistresses, his many affairs common knowledge. In fact, two of his favorite mistresses were in attendance tonight. His wife of twenty-eight years was oblivious to the affairs, whether she purposely chose to be that way was the real mystery.
Logan Cale thought of his godfather and surrogate uncle with amusement as he jogged up the cobblestone stairs of Phillip's sprawling mansion, knotting the tie of his tailored suit as he went. Though the man he's called Uncle Phil since he could speak the words had his faults, he was still the loveable man who taken a large part of raising him to be the man he'd become.
But now that he was over an hour late to Uncle Phil's birthday party, well, there was going to be hell to pay.
Logan took a moment to stand in front of one of the frosted glass panes that surrounded the large oak doors, catching his reflection to make sure he didn't look as tired as he felt. He'd just stepped off a flight from Chicago, having spent less a day their gathering information for the latest cover story of 'The Reality'.
'The Reality' was a concept magazine Logan had started six years ago; three years after the electro-magnetic pulse had wiped out most of the Midwest's cyber infrastructure, throwing most of America into the second Great Depression.
Luckily for him, Cale industries had moved everything they had to offshore accounts less than three months before the rest of America fell into chaos.
Despite his fortune remaining intact, Logan had watched acquaintances; ones that had spent years wearing their money like a medal, drop quickly and quietly out
of public lives, the money they had been so proud of gone faster than they could say 'look at my new Mercedes.'
Watching the lower classes struggle for survival while the rich made them selves richer as they took advantage of the downtrodden fight for their lives, Logan became disgusted with the upper classes that he had been apart of for his lives.
It was then when he approached his family, asking them for there support. Not only in their sudden change of his major at Yale from law, as was the family tradition, to journalism, but also in the money he needed to start the concept magazine he had conceived of shortly after a group of Seattle residents were brutally killed. These innocent men, women, and children had been killed after they had been promised safe transport to Canada for a small fee of ten thousand dollars a head. Three days after the transaction had been complete, sector police had found dumpsters full of mangled bodies.
These people had been lied to. Logan then made it his own personal mission to expose the truth, the reality.
Logan pulled open the heavy oak doors, walking straight into the kind of society party he had grown to hate. Logan spotting Phillip holding court in the center of the large ballroom, a string quartette set up in the corner, and the catered buffet on the other side of the room. Phillip spotted Logan and waved him over, momentarily detaching himself to the voluptuous blonde that was wound around his arm.
"Logan, my boy." Phillip said jovially, "I see you broke yourself away from your little article for a couple of hours to visit your dear old godfather in his last years."
The first issue of 'The Reality' had been published two years after he'd gotten his degree in journalism from Yale, with a handpicked group of friends from college, fellow journalist, at his side. It was a long and trying battle, bringing the magazine up from an underground newsletter to the nationally acclaimed, award winning news magazine that it was today. 'A little article' it was not.
"Uncle Phil," Logan said as he approached them with a smile. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're never going to get old. You keep on forgetting about that deal you made with Satan."
Phillip laughed again. "Of course, of course. Ladies, if you'll excuse me." Phillip said as he unwound himself from the two women at his side. "Well, I am ever so nicely going to forget how late you are. I'll forgive you this time. But I'd like for you to meet someone."
"Oh God." Logan muttered.
"What?" Phillip asked as he grabbed Logan's elbow and led him through the throngs of people.
"You aren't going to try and play matchmaker again are you?" For whatever reason, Phillip felt the need to shove every single woman in his face, paying no attention to the fact that ninety-nine percent of the time they were the most whiny, unintelligent, boring ice queens that Logan was more than ready to kill himself in order to get away from them.
"What? Just because I want to see you--"
"Settled down and raising my grandchildren." Logan finished the speech by heart; he heard it at least once a week.
"Silence." Phillip admonished imperiously. "You'll like her, I promise."
"If she is stupid as the last person you tried to shove in my face…"Logan trailed off as they approached a group of people. "Miss Sprouse." Phillip said warmly.
A woman in a dark green dress turned, her elbow length blonde hair swinging as she turned swung around. When she turned around, Logan found himself staring at a beautiful face, olive colored skin, with cool brown eyes behind a pair of small wire framed glasses.
"Mr. Costello." She greeted, her voice sugary sweet, with a southern voice that reminded Logan of the magnolia trees of Georgia.
"I'd like to introduce you to my godson, Logan Cale. Logan, this is Veronica Sprouse. She is the daughter of Richard Sprouse, of the Sprouse Shipping Company."
It was then that Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He'd barely met the woman and Phillip was already thinking of corporate mergers. "Nice to meet you." He said somewhat condescendingly.
"I've heard so much about you, Mr. Cale. Your godfather speaks well of you."
She said as she offered a small hand to shake Logan's.
"Well." Phillip said. "Your aunt is gesturing towards me, I'd better go see what she wants." He finished quickly before clapping Logan on the back and walking off.
Logan turned back to Veronica, smiling wryly. "I'd like to apologize now for whatever my uncle might have said to you, I am sure it was either exaggerated or completely made up in some way, shape or form."
"Oh, he is darling. Absolutely charming." Veronica said sweetly.
"He is also conniving. But I am surprised. You don't look like the usual airhead that he tries to make me like. You look like you have some semblance of intelligence."
Veronica arched a brow. "I guess that is your own bumbling way to compliment me. But the question is, was it supposed to be that way."
Logan laughed. "Not many people would realize that I was insulting them."
"Hmm." Veronica made a sound deep in her throat as she took a sip of the wine she held at her side.
It was than that Logan noticed the groups of people dancing behind them.
"Listen, it would score some major points with Uncle Phil if I acted like I was letting him control my life. Want to dance?"
Veronica studied Logan for a moment before setting her wine glass at a nearby table. "Sure."
Logan took Veronica's arm and led her out onto the dance floor, turning her so that they moved together, picking up the beat of the waltz easily as they began to twirl to the music silently.
It was several long moments before either one of them spoke. Finally, Veronica broke the silence. "So, I have to say, I enjoyed your last editorial."
Logan was surprised for a moment. This crowd usually didn't frequent his magazine, especially the women. They were usually more concerned with the latest summer fashions rather than Logan Cale's commentary on the rapidly declining stock market of Taiwan and the effects it could have on America's slowly improving economy. "Thanks." He muttered, for some reason being oddly embarrassed.
Veronica opened her mouth again, ready to speak, when she trailed off. The tiny microchip in her ear crackled quietly, only loud enough for her enhanced hearing to pick up.
"Max, it's Zack. Syl couldn't take out the cameras, but as long as you move fast you'll be fine. You are here by officially granted permission to complete mission 945."
Logan watched as Veronica smiled softly, almost to herself. "If you'd excuse me, I need to go make a phone call."
Logan relinquished his hold on her, watching as she weaved through the crowd, oddly disappointed. 'Maybe Uncle Phil has some sense after all.' He thought.
Logan looked over just in time to see one of the insane old women who loved to harass him about why he wasn't married and caring for a brood of children. If these women would ever decided to team up with Phillip, well, it is easy to say it could make his life quite difficult.
Before the woman could reach him, he slunk off to go hide in the closest room down the hallway, hoping to escape from the boring party for a few minuets, hopefully enough time to make a few much needed phone calls.
Logan walked into the closet sized room, the room with one wall lined with closed circuit TV's where tape played from the surveillance cameras flashed across the screens.
Anyways, here is some background info that you need for this to make sense. It is 2022, Max and the other X5s never escaped and they are still at Manticore. Max and Logan have never met, but this will be M/L pairing eventually. This is going to be my longest story ever, being around fifty chapters with the second two stories being somewhere close to that. Anything that doesnt make sense or isnt explained usually comes out in later chapters. The first chapter is really just expostionary, so bare with me. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I have like 42 dollars to my name. I so can't afford a lawyer.
Extra Ordinary I
Chapter One:
Twinkling chandeliers sparkled through the windows of the Costello family mansion, the front yard crowded with expensive cars and chauffeured limos as the best and brightest of Seattle's upper class gathered to celebrate Phillip Costello's sixtieth birthday.
Phillip Costello was a successful businessman, just now reaching the peak of his power, having taken over Cale industries after twenty years of being vice president and best friend of Thomas Cale. He'd been named CEO shortly after the tragic murder of Thomas and his wife, Elizabeth, six months prior.
He was an equally notorious with his mistresses, his many affairs common knowledge. In fact, two of his favorite mistresses were in attendance tonight. His wife of twenty-eight years was oblivious to the affairs, whether she purposely chose to be that way was the real mystery.
Logan Cale thought of his godfather and surrogate uncle with amusement as he jogged up the cobblestone stairs of Phillip's sprawling mansion, knotting the tie of his tailored suit as he went. Though the man he's called Uncle Phil since he could speak the words had his faults, he was still the loveable man who taken a large part of raising him to be the man he'd become.
But now that he was over an hour late to Uncle Phil's birthday party, well, there was going to be hell to pay.
Logan took a moment to stand in front of one of the frosted glass panes that surrounded the large oak doors, catching his reflection to make sure he didn't look as tired as he felt. He'd just stepped off a flight from Chicago, having spent less a day their gathering information for the latest cover story of 'The Reality'.
'The Reality' was a concept magazine Logan had started six years ago; three years after the electro-magnetic pulse had wiped out most of the Midwest's cyber infrastructure, throwing most of America into the second Great Depression.
Luckily for him, Cale industries had moved everything they had to offshore accounts less than three months before the rest of America fell into chaos.
Despite his fortune remaining intact, Logan had watched acquaintances; ones that had spent years wearing their money like a medal, drop quickly and quietly out
of public lives, the money they had been so proud of gone faster than they could say 'look at my new Mercedes.'
Watching the lower classes struggle for survival while the rich made them selves richer as they took advantage of the downtrodden fight for their lives, Logan became disgusted with the upper classes that he had been apart of for his lives.
It was then when he approached his family, asking them for there support. Not only in their sudden change of his major at Yale from law, as was the family tradition, to journalism, but also in the money he needed to start the concept magazine he had conceived of shortly after a group of Seattle residents were brutally killed. These innocent men, women, and children had been killed after they had been promised safe transport to Canada for a small fee of ten thousand dollars a head. Three days after the transaction had been complete, sector police had found dumpsters full of mangled bodies.
These people had been lied to. Logan then made it his own personal mission to expose the truth, the reality.
Logan pulled open the heavy oak doors, walking straight into the kind of society party he had grown to hate. Logan spotting Phillip holding court in the center of the large ballroom, a string quartette set up in the corner, and the catered buffet on the other side of the room. Phillip spotted Logan and waved him over, momentarily detaching himself to the voluptuous blonde that was wound around his arm.
"Logan, my boy." Phillip said jovially, "I see you broke yourself away from your little article for a couple of hours to visit your dear old godfather in his last years."
The first issue of 'The Reality' had been published two years after he'd gotten his degree in journalism from Yale, with a handpicked group of friends from college, fellow journalist, at his side. It was a long and trying battle, bringing the magazine up from an underground newsletter to the nationally acclaimed, award winning news magazine that it was today. 'A little article' it was not.
"Uncle Phil," Logan said as he approached them with a smile. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're never going to get old. You keep on forgetting about that deal you made with Satan."
Phillip laughed again. "Of course, of course. Ladies, if you'll excuse me." Phillip said as he unwound himself from the two women at his side. "Well, I am ever so nicely going to forget how late you are. I'll forgive you this time. But I'd like for you to meet someone."
"Oh God." Logan muttered.
"What?" Phillip asked as he grabbed Logan's elbow and led him through the throngs of people.
"You aren't going to try and play matchmaker again are you?" For whatever reason, Phillip felt the need to shove every single woman in his face, paying no attention to the fact that ninety-nine percent of the time they were the most whiny, unintelligent, boring ice queens that Logan was more than ready to kill himself in order to get away from them.
"What? Just because I want to see you--"
"Settled down and raising my grandchildren." Logan finished the speech by heart; he heard it at least once a week.
"Silence." Phillip admonished imperiously. "You'll like her, I promise."
"If she is stupid as the last person you tried to shove in my face…"Logan trailed off as they approached a group of people. "Miss Sprouse." Phillip said warmly.
A woman in a dark green dress turned, her elbow length blonde hair swinging as she turned swung around. When she turned around, Logan found himself staring at a beautiful face, olive colored skin, with cool brown eyes behind a pair of small wire framed glasses.
"Mr. Costello." She greeted, her voice sugary sweet, with a southern voice that reminded Logan of the magnolia trees of Georgia.
"I'd like to introduce you to my godson, Logan Cale. Logan, this is Veronica Sprouse. She is the daughter of Richard Sprouse, of the Sprouse Shipping Company."
It was then that Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He'd barely met the woman and Phillip was already thinking of corporate mergers. "Nice to meet you." He said somewhat condescendingly.
"I've heard so much about you, Mr. Cale. Your godfather speaks well of you."
She said as she offered a small hand to shake Logan's.
"Well." Phillip said. "Your aunt is gesturing towards me, I'd better go see what she wants." He finished quickly before clapping Logan on the back and walking off.
Logan turned back to Veronica, smiling wryly. "I'd like to apologize now for whatever my uncle might have said to you, I am sure it was either exaggerated or completely made up in some way, shape or form."
"Oh, he is darling. Absolutely charming." Veronica said sweetly.
"He is also conniving. But I am surprised. You don't look like the usual airhead that he tries to make me like. You look like you have some semblance of intelligence."
Veronica arched a brow. "I guess that is your own bumbling way to compliment me. But the question is, was it supposed to be that way."
Logan laughed. "Not many people would realize that I was insulting them."
"Hmm." Veronica made a sound deep in her throat as she took a sip of the wine she held at her side.
It was than that Logan noticed the groups of people dancing behind them.
"Listen, it would score some major points with Uncle Phil if I acted like I was letting him control my life. Want to dance?"
Veronica studied Logan for a moment before setting her wine glass at a nearby table. "Sure."
Logan took Veronica's arm and led her out onto the dance floor, turning her so that they moved together, picking up the beat of the waltz easily as they began to twirl to the music silently.
It was several long moments before either one of them spoke. Finally, Veronica broke the silence. "So, I have to say, I enjoyed your last editorial."
Logan was surprised for a moment. This crowd usually didn't frequent his magazine, especially the women. They were usually more concerned with the latest summer fashions rather than Logan Cale's commentary on the rapidly declining stock market of Taiwan and the effects it could have on America's slowly improving economy. "Thanks." He muttered, for some reason being oddly embarrassed.
Veronica opened her mouth again, ready to speak, when she trailed off. The tiny microchip in her ear crackled quietly, only loud enough for her enhanced hearing to pick up.
"Max, it's Zack. Syl couldn't take out the cameras, but as long as you move fast you'll be fine. You are here by officially granted permission to complete mission 945."
Logan watched as Veronica smiled softly, almost to herself. "If you'd excuse me, I need to go make a phone call."
Logan relinquished his hold on her, watching as she weaved through the crowd, oddly disappointed. 'Maybe Uncle Phil has some sense after all.' He thought.
Logan looked over just in time to see one of the insane old women who loved to harass him about why he wasn't married and caring for a brood of children. If these women would ever decided to team up with Phillip, well, it is easy to say it could make his life quite difficult.
Before the woman could reach him, he slunk off to go hide in the closest room down the hallway, hoping to escape from the boring party for a few minuets, hopefully enough time to make a few much needed phone calls.
Logan walked into the closet sized room, the room with one wall lined with closed circuit TV's where tape played from the surveillance cameras flashed across the screens.