Exit Strategy

Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here. No, not even Alec.

Spoilers: Set two weeks after the events of Freak Nation, includes spoilers for the entire series.

This is my first piece of fanfiction. I'll mostly focus on the feelings or observations of the people in Terminal City. There will be quite a bit of questioning Max's authority, because I always found it hard to believe that lifelong military would follow a deserter. Will try to stay in character, but let me know if I get too OOC.

Loyalty and Obstinance

Alec was miserable. He was trapped in a toxic waste site trying to pass as a habitable city, with an increasingly cranky population of soldiers in dire need of orders and structure, under the leadership of an idealistic deserter whose battle plans included "waiting it out" and "peaceful protest". The fact that said leader was Max, the closest thing Alec had to family, did little to comfort him.

Alec missed his days as a happy-go-lucky sociopath. He missed scotch and loose women. He missed the freedom to move about the city on his bike- hell, the freedom to leave the city if he wanted to. He even missed Normal. Mostly, he hated the sinking feeling he got every time he looked towards the gates and barricades surrounding Terminal City. He feared that, even with Manticore burnt down to rubble, in the end, he had simply traded one prison for another.

When he wasn't planning supply runs to sustain TC's burgeoning population, or listening to Max's inane strategy sessions, he found himself teetering on the edge of pain and exhaustion. He had gotten so little sleep in the past two weeks that the effects were beginning to show. His arm still ached from the bullet wound he got during the siege at Jam Pony, an injury that should have healed within days.

As it was, Alec's relationship with Max made him her biggest proponent in the eyes of the transgenic populace. And, despite their rocky beginnings, and some rough spots along the way, Alec was loyal to Max. There was no time for weakness, no room for want.

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He had just finished up his inventory of the armory's weapon stores, Manticore's mantra of "Duty Discipline Mission" playing over and over in his head, when he looked up to see Mole watching him from the doorway. His arms were crossed over his chest, mouth pursed around his cigar, black eyes thoughtful. And if Alec knew anything about Mole, "thoughtful" looks were not likely to end in his favor.

Since he had first wandered into Terminal City in search of Joshua, Alec had started to build a strange sort of friendship with the ornery anomaly. It hadn't taken the pair long to discover their mutual appreciation for big guns, poker and hard liquor. From there, they had developed a strong camaraderie, with a hint of protectiveness for one another. The fact that Alec had managed to make himself yet another friend was a surprise in of itself.

Relationships of any kind had always been hard for him. Back at Manticore, during one of his countless trips to Psy-Ops, someone upstairs had decided that X5-494 would be better off as an independent creature. He would still be social in the most artificial ways, but incapable of sustaining any deeper attachments. X5-493 had deeper attachments, after all, and they only drove him to disobedience and insanity.

Fortunately for Alec, and despite their best efforts, Manticore's reconditioning had proved to be mostly ineffectual. He would always be more independent, and more comfortable on his own, but he still had the ability to form relationships, to care deeply, to be a part of a family.

"Hate to be the one to tell ya, Mole," Alec nodded in the direction of the door, "but you missed the big show. All your babies are present and accounted for."

He lifted his eyes to Mole's face, fought to keep the fatigue from showing on his own.

"That so?" Mole's eyes remained dangerously thoughtful, taking in Alec's somewhat disheveled form.

"Mind if I take a look at that?" he asked, gesturing towards the paper in Alec's hand.

Alec nodded slowly, then stood from the bench he'd been working at. The act of rising brought a rush of blood to his head, causing him to stumble slightly. It was barely a movement, but more than enough for the transgenic eyes currently locked on him from across the room.

Nonetheless, he was still determined to make a quick get away. Alec steadied himself and made his way to Mole and shoved the paper into his waiting hand. He then tried to maneuver around the stubborn form now completely blocking the doorway. Mole scoffed lightly, putting a hand to Alec's chest.

"Hold up there Princess. When was the last time you slept?"

Surprise lit Alec's eyes for a moment, quickly chased away by stubborn determination.

"Come on, Mole. We're in the middle of a siege! There's no time for beauty rest."

"Can it, Pretty Boy. You can feed lines to Miss High and Mighty till you're blue in the face, but I ain't buyin' it."

"Mole…"

Alec cut off his cajoling when Mole spat out his cigar on the floor of the armory, took a step forward and straightened his spine. It was funny to Alec how easy it was for him to forget he was dealing with a giant lizard man, until Mole was literally looming over him.

"I said, can it! If you aren't getting sleep…" Mole trailed off and backed off a step, mouth working in the place where the cigar was moments earlier. When he spoke again, his voice was markedly subdued.

"You have another seizure, boy?"

Alec paused a moment to bite the inside of his cheek, contemplating the wisdom of a lie.

When creating the X5s, Manticore had unwittingly given them two dueling instincts, those of a soldier, and those of a transgenic. The solider understood the importance of full disclosure, of every injury, every deficit. There was pride there, too, but no amount of pride more important than the health and ability of the unit as a whole.

As for the transgenic, pride was its driving force. The X5s were built to be stronger, smarter, faster. They were built to be better. The admission of weakest was an admission of inferiority. Inferiority at Manticore meant termination.

Alec was still pondering the limits of full disclosure when he felt Mole step back into his space. Apparently, his silence was all Mole needed to come to a decision. Before Alec had a chance to speak again, he felt a small prick on the inside of his elbow. The next moment, he was falling to the floor, a voice (Mole's) mumbling in his ear.

"…damn X5s….mule in your cocktail…stubborn son of a bitch."

And then everything was black.