James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.
III
Arms are my ornaments, warfare my repose. – Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote.
Max's body was a blur of motion as she went through one of the training programs from her days back with Manticore. She hated the memories these exercises dredged up within her, but she also accepted the fact that she knew no other way to prepare. I have enemies, and I have to take them out, she thought grimly as her feet went through the familiar routine. I don't have time to relearn all of my skills. What I know will simply have to suffice.
Her right leg shot out in a flurry of kicks, and then, spinning in midair, she sent a kick with her left, directly into the center of an imagined foe's forehead. A thin smile appeared on her face as she moved, reminding herself of the strategies she would need in an encounter with superior numbers. Strike first, and make sure the target is put out of the fight immediately, she reminded herself, hearing the haunting voice of Lydecker as she recalled the lessons he had taught her so long ago. Max shook her head, trying to chase away the voice that had tormented her for so long. She no longer feared Lydecker, but just the thought of him was unwanted. It was simply easier to forget he had ever existed.
I cannot allow a foe with superior numbers to get organized to face me, Max knew. Even her transgenic modifications would not help her if a half dozen men with automatic weapons were able to corner her. She suddenly stopped and looked across the room at the two pistols hanging on the wall. If Lydecker caused discomfort, firearms caused true agitation. Before Rory had come to Seattle, it had been years since Max had used a firearm. When she had been forced to use one again, in the interest of tactical efficiency, she had done so reluctantly. Max had never expected the thrill she had gotten from it.
The reaction had frightened her, and since the raid on Koch's home she had refrained from shooting anyone, although she reluctantly carried a pistol with her when she went to work. She told herself that she had it only 'just in case,' but sometimes she wondered whether she was trying to rationalize her desire to use a weapon she knew would make her even stronger.
Of course, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be strong, she told herself. My enemies will use every weapon they can get their hands on in order to gain an advantage. Is it so wrong for me to want to do the same? She decided to end her physical training routine and ponder the question. Max knew what Logan would say – she should never lower herself to her enemies' level. He's fighting a different kind of battle, though, she reminded herself. It's all fine and good for Logan to take the moral high ground while he's sitting up in his ivory tower, but I'm out there on the streets, fighting these guys on their own terms. It'll only frighten them that much more to have a foe that doesn't play by the normal good-guy rules.
Max sat on the floor in lotus position and tried to clear her mind. During one of her conversations with Rory, she had been introduced to the meditation philosophy of one of the sects of Zen Buddhism. This sect espoused the belief that true mental discipline came from clearing one's mind of all thought. After all, anyone could think. It took a truly disciplined individual to stop the mind's natural process. The idea had been a favored one of medieval Japanese samurai, as it latched on to the aspect of their bushido that demanded rigid discipline. Just as it had with the samurai, the idea had found favor with Rory and then Max.
Maybe it's also because Lydecker taught us to always think about our situation, Max pondered as she slowly relaxed. Always be aware of your surroundings, always keep your mind going, formulating minor adjustments to your strategies so as to keep one step ahead of the enemy, she remembered Lydecker repeating over and over. Your mind only stops thinking when you're dead. A thin smile formed on her face as she pondered what Lydecker would say if he ever discovered that Max was purposely clearing her mind, in opposition to one of his greatest training principles. The thought was more amusing than Max could believe.
Amusing, yes, but still distracting, she thought, chastising herself. She had yet to achieve complete peace and absence of thought, and ruminating on how much her new training techniques would piss off her former mentor was not going to help her achieve her goal. Of course, the whole catch to this meditation thing is that the realization that you have cleared your mind is itself a thought, and destroys the exercise, Rory had warned her, trying to impress upon her just how difficult the training could be.
But if I can achieve that level of discipline, I can defeat anyone, Max told herself once again. She redoubled her efforts and focused on nothingness, hoping that perhaps this would be the time when she would achieve the seemingly impossible goal of non-thought. If nothing else, she hoped clearing her mind and relaxing would help her in her upcoming assault against Cameron Dean's newest drug production facility. She knew it would be heavily guarded, and would provide quite a challenge. I just hope everything I picked up from Lydecker, Zack, and Rory is enough to prepare me for what comes next. Otherwise, I might not be able to meet up with everyone at Crash later on.
To be continued.............................