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.
V
Adapt yourself to the environment in which your lot has been cast, and show true love to the fellow-mortals with whom destiny has surrounded you. – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations.
Max had settled down a great deal by the time she reached Crash. Of course, the fast motorcycle ride and the long, hot shower had helped a lot. She almost felt out of place as she walked into the bar, having set aside her singed, blood-stained ninja outfit and black cloak in favor of a red tank-top, black leather pants, and black boots.
"Hey, Boo," Original Cindy said with a wide smile as soon as she saw Max walk in. "Where you been at lately? None of us has seen you in, like, forever."
"I've been around," Max replied evasively. "You know, not working at Jam Pony has been pretty good for me, though. It's keeping me busy."
"I'll bet," Original Cindy replied. "I heard a strange rumor the other night, you know. Something about a short woman that moved like the wind and had a nasty habit of leaving crippled drug dealers in her wake."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Max said evenly, motioning for the bartender to bring her a drink. "I haven't been out on the streets enough to hear stuff like that."
"Of course you haven't," Cindy commented.
"Hey, Max, how are you?" Sketchy said as he walked up to the two women. I haven't seen you in awhile."
"Seems like a common problem," Max replied with a forced smile. What's wrong with me? Max wondered. I used to love coming here, spending time with my friends. Now it almost seems like a chore.
"Hey, Herbal just took off, and I need a partner for the next game," Sketchy said, pointing toward a new pool table in the back corner. "You feel up to it, Max?"
"Sure," she said with a smile, deciding that as long as she was going to continue to try to be social, she might as well do the job right. "You comin' along?" she asked Cindy.
"Of course," her friend answered.
"Seriously, though, I know what you're thinking," Max said as soon as Sketchy had proceeded out of earshot. "It's not what you think."
"Are you sure?" Cindy asked. "It sounds like you've gone a little postal."
"It's not like that," Max said, making certain she flashed the happiest smile she could muster. "It's just that I figure I owe it to the people of the city to do whatever I can to make things better."
"Like Logan does," Original Cindy said.
"Exactly," Max said, surprised at how much more easily the smiles were coming. "He has his way, and I have mine."
"Whatever you say, Boo," Cindy replied. "I can't even pretend I know what it's like to be you. As long as you say you've got it under control, though, I'm fine with whatever you do. You know that, right?"
"Of course I do," Max said pleasantly. "I know you're just a pain in my ass because you care so much."
"Oh great," an unfamiliar voice commented. "See, I told you she was another dyke." Max turned to face whoever was speaking, and was forced to look up in order to meet the eyes of a very large, very hairy man that she had never seen before.
"Excuse me?" she asked evenly, doing her best to intimidate the man. Her efforts only seemed to amuse him, however.
"I was just telling my friend here that I'd like to bone ya," the man answered, "but then I heard you talking all sweet to your rug-muncher friend. I have to tell ya, doll... it's a little disappointing."
"Not as disappointing as the feeling of having your teeth knocked out is gonna be," Max threatened, straightening herself up as much as possible, but only coming up to the man's shoulders.
"No, let's go, Max," Original Cindy interjected, her voice walking a fine line between asking and demanding. "He isn't worth it."
"Honey, you wouldn't know what I'm worth," the man shot back. "See, your problem is that you're playing for the wrong team. You should try out driving stick."
"Oh, that's it," Max snarled. In a flash of motion she had kicked the man in the knee, sending his large body toppling to the beer-covered floor. Before anyone could even react, she was straddling the man, punching him repeatedly in the face. He began to swing his arms wildly, and finally connected, knocking Max off of him and back onto the floor. He quickly stood to his feet once again, and Max rose to meet him.
"No!" Cindy shouted.
Max ignored her friend, however, and grabbed a beer bottle from the tabletop next to her. In one fluid motion she smashed it against the table, leaving a jagged glass weapon in her slender hands. "What the hell?" the man muttered. "You're crazy."
"Apologize," Max demanded.
"And if I don't?" he asked.
"Then I cut your balls off," Max threatened. The man's face went a shade paler, and Max became dimly aware that the bar had gone silent and every face was turned in her direction.
"He's just drunk, Max," Cindy said. "He didn't mean anything by it. He's just jealous is all, aren't you?" she asked the man.
"That's right," the man agreed, appearing to have finally had his adrenaline temporarily counteract the alcohol in his system. His sense of judgment had immediately improved. "I just think your friend is fine, that's all," he stammered. "I feel bad that she won't ever give me the time of day, since she's, you know, all into girls and stuff. I only meant it all as a compliment. No offense, really. I'm sorry."
"Fine," Max replied, dropping the broken bottle. Within moments one of the bouncers had walked over and demanded that she leave. Max only nodded and walked out, followed closely by Original Cindy.
"You know, I'm willing to believe just about anything you say, but I don't think you got it under control, Boo," she said.
"I'm fine," Max growled.
"You just threatened to cut a man's balls off," Cindy shot back.
"He deserved it," Max retorted.
"For calling me a lesbian?" Cindy asked. "He's right, I am. It's no insult."
"He didn't call you a lesbian," Max pointed out. "He was far more offensive than that."
"What he did only merited a couple of sharp words, not castration," Original Cindy said incredulously. "I'm serious, Max, I don't think you got this under control. You better figure yourself out fast, though, 'cause these games you're playin' at'll get you killed. Give me a call if you need anything, ok?"
"Fine," Max shot back, walking away as quickly as possible. Within moments she was back on her motorcycle and racing across town to the small apartment that she had gotten from Rory. To hell with the leather pants and tank-tops, she decided. I have responsibilities, now. Justice can't take breaks and go drinking with friends. I took on a full-time job, and I guess I'd better stick at it. It's back to the streets for me.
To be continued.............................