II
"I don't know what you're talking about. I had everything under control," was 494's reply, who was slowly recovering from the shock. There was no doubt, then, that she was 452 and that much, at least, brought him some peace among the crisis.
"It was a rhetorical question," she stated, placing the pistol back into its holster. And then, after quietly closing the door, she was all business, checking the bodies and their surroundings. It seemed surprising to him that she wasn't startled at all, considering that the woman was identical to her—rather, that she was identical to the dead girl. It was, in a very disturbing way, fascinating, and he could not help but admire the determination and integrity that she had, qualities he longed to recover.
So absorbed he was in such thoughts, he did not realize the time she started speaking. "No wonder why Lydecker was so obsessed with the idea of leaving you a few more weeks in Psy Ops, 494," she observed when noticing he wasn't paying much attention.
He knew she was right. This mission had highlighted each and every one of his flaws, and more than proving his apparent recovery, it'd emphasized how mentally weak he was. "Sorry, I was thinking how much she resembles you," he said. It was not much of a lie, he considered, and then added one of his patented grins, "a distant cousin, 452? Maybe you could introduce me to her?"
She just rolled her eyes at him.
Pretending everything was alright was harder than she thought. Having killed her felt like a part of her life had died as well, cutting an invisible bond between her and just an ordinary person that she knew she wouldn't experience again, even when the two of them had never met before that fated afternoon. 452 owed Maxine Guevara more than she would ever admit. It wasn't just about the looks—it was because of Guevara that she had gone into the most important missions of her life, assuming her identity while the young girl had some unexpected vacations. It was because of Guevara that she had collected most of her experience as a Manticore operative. But, most importantly, it was because of her that she was still in Manticore, serving to the country that had created her, unlike the traitors that once upon a time were part of her unit.
On the other hand, Maxine Guevara had owed her as much. It was the reason to create her to provide quite a unique health insurance for the girl, having a more than perfect guinea pig in case she presented any kind of decease. It was because of 452 that Maxine hadn't used glasses, that she'd had a form friendly metabolism, that any illness the Pulse brought hadn't affected her. In fact, 452 thought, she was as genetically engineered as an X3, maybe even an X4, and that only ended up affirming her belief they were more alike than anyone would think.
As her companionship spoke, 452 rolled her eyes, wisely choosing to overlook 494 words. "I was saying she tried to make a call. Luckily for us, signal is a major problem right now and it was finished before anybody picked it, but we can't just ignore it. We gotta blaze, pronto."
In such situations, procedure was quite simple. Getting rid of the bodies, of evidence, taking some of the victims' personal effects, resembling the situation to a typical flight. Between these two, however, it was kind of a private joke, how they could just leave Manticore behind them and start a successful career in the field of house cleaning. As she turned her back at him, a wide smile spread across her face, quickly vanishing as she focused on the rather unpleasant activity of disposing Maxine's body in a garbage bag.
Outside, it was still raining, and she wanted to believe it meant some sort of advantage against the cops—that, if they ever came around. With not much effort, she carried the plastic bag all the way down the girl's car, an '01 Beetle that was way too feminine to her liking. Nonetheless, as soon as the car trunk was closed by her, a voice cracked in her left ear. No matter how much interference was around her due climatic conditions, she recognized X5-719's husky tone."Sector Polic—ur location. Retire ASA—"
Her grunt was unheard. She should have known better—there were time like this when a supposed facile task would just get complicated in the way. It wasn't like the Police would be there any time soon—it was Seattle PD, for God's sake, but there wouldn't be enough time to look for the information Rafael Guevara was attempting to sell. Most importantly, it meant she had to take her own decisions, which would be, whichever the result was, highly questioned at their return to the base.
Less than five minutes later, they both fled the scene, Guevara's death body was still curled into the crimson carpet of his living room. She hadn't liked it, but there wasn't much of a choice—they would have to rely on the Police, to close the case as an ordinary armed robbery. Whoever that had tried to buy Manticore's data, well, they were likely to see further and understand what had happened to the doctor. The message would be delivered, anyway.
Nobody could mess with Manticore.
No Logan yet :(
It's a little complicated describing Max as a Manticore operative, so I apologize beforehand for any kind of incongruence between this one and the fabulous cynic of the series. I also wanted to show that she's not our default Manticore mindless soldier. It's going to take a while to pull her together, so I'm open to any suggestions about it.
Milou, many thanks for your review. I hope you like this new chapter. And you, any other reader, are invited to share your opinion too. To improve this, I'd love to know what I'm doing right and what not.
