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.

Author's Note: I would just like to mention Icy Mike Molson, who created a character that I used as a template for Carmen Exarchos. Additionally, I once again received some invaluable feedback from Brynn McK as a beta reader, and I must thank her once again for her efforts. (I don't think I can stress just how much different this chapter would be, one way or the other, without her valued input.)

Am I My Sister's Keeper?

"Damnit!" Rory cursed as he listened through his headphones to the sounds of Logan's apartment. As expected, the bugs he had left behind after meeting with Max's longtime friend had proven useful. Without them he never would have guessed at the content of Logan's report, or the reason for Max's hasty departure. He could only imagine what was running through her mind. He raced around to the rear of the building, not slowing his pace at all as he grabbed the end of a bungee cord and jumped off. He watched the ground race toward him as he plummeted from the thirty-story roof, and then felt his descent slow as the rope reached the end of its length and began to stretch. When he was only two stories from the ground, he drew a razor-sharp wakizashi, a samurai's head-taking shortsword, from its scabbard on his waist and sliced the rope. His body easily absorbed the shock from the landing after the final leg of his drop.

Rounding the building and looking down the alley, Rory saw Max dart from the front of Fogle Towers and hop on to her Ninja. Not missing a beat, Rory leapt onto his own motorcycle, a 2001 Indian bike, and gave chase, making certain he stayed far enough back that even Max wouldn't notice. It didn't take long to figure out that she was headed back to her apartment. I guess she has to pick up a few things before she gets down to business.

Max was in her apartment just long enough to give Rory a chance to arm himself, using the weapons he kept stowed in his bike's saddlebags. He put on his own Ninja hood before replacing his helmet, and replaced his heavy, black leather boots with his tobi boots, knowing their lightweight design would not only allow him to move more quickly, but also far more quietly. He then saw Max race out of her apartment building and hop back onto her motorcycle. Then it was time to play keep-up again.

Max raced along, weaving through traffic like a woman with a death wish. Rory hardly knew whether he should admire her skill or make a mental note to advise her to take it easy while riding on crowded urban streets. As it was, he was hard-pressed to keep up with her, and heaved an audible sigh of relief when she finally stopped her bike in the middle of a very rough-looking neighborhood. Max walked into a run-down building, and Rory stepped off his bike and started to approach when he heard a brief exchange of gunfire. A short scream followed, obviously made by a man in a great deal of pain, and then there was silence. A brief moment later Max was walking back out, the faintest hint of a limp added to her previously powerful, confident stride.

Within seconds Rory found himself back off to the races, this time getting on the highway and heading toward the city limits. Max stopped again just a couple of miles from the Sea-Tac airport, in an area dominated by run-down warehouses that were little more than relics giving silent testimony to the memory of the Seattle economy's better days.

Max cautiously approached one of the buildings and jumped to the rooftop above. Rory dared not follow her up, knowing he would likely find it all but impossible to conceal his presence from his sibling. He instead approached the same warehouse and stood just under a window, trusting his ears to tell him a story to which the window's thick grime prevented his eyes from bearing witness.

Rory could plainly hear two men and a woman discussing prices, although he couldn't tell what the subject of the conversation was. At quotes of half a million to a million dollars, though, he was willing to guess toaster-ovens weren't the commodity of choice. More likely it's either guns or drugs, he decided. Or both. There was a sound of shattering glass, five short bursts of gunfire, three of them obviously let off by Max's silenced MP-5 and the other two let off by guards with assault weapons, and finally a short series of loud thuds. A woman started yelling inside, and then there was silence. For the briefest moment Rory thought he heard something, like the sound of a mouse inside a wall, but he couldn't place it. The sound ended suddenly, though, and everything was quiet once again. Rory waited for what seemed an eternity until he finally heard Max's voice.

"I assume you're Carmen Exarchos," she said evenly. No response was given. "Perhaps you're unaware of who I am," Max muttered. "If you just give me the information I want, I'll let you walk out of here in one piece. If you resist, you might be... damaged."

"I know who you are," a woman whom Rory assumed was Exarchos replied with a thick Spanish accent. "You're that stupid bitch that's been running around town making business tough on all of us."

"That's right, I'm Justice," Max answered.

"No, you were Justice," Exarchos answered, an unsettling tone of confidence and amusement in her voice. In a flash, Rory remembered the unidentified, muffled sound he had heard moments earlier, and suddenly realized that the noises had been made by men running through a tunnel directly beneath him, across from the warehouse next door. Max walked right into an ambush!

There was the sound of springs popping inside the building, and Rory assumed that several trap doors had just been opened. With a speed and grace that would have amazed any onlookers, Rory scaled the side of the warehouse, arriving in moments at the edge of the skylight that Max had used as her entrance. Gunfire erupted from below, and Rory kept his hopes alive as long as he heard the ringing of shots. If they're still shooting, it means she's still alive. Once in position, he scanned the large, open space below, trying desperately to find his sister.

He quickly found Max huddled in a corner, using a pallet of dry cement for cover. A thick cloud of dust was being created as dozens of rounds tore into the bags, but Rory could still easily see that his sister had been hit at least once. Her left arm was hanging uselessly at her side as she fired blindly with the right, obviously trying to buy time until an opportunity presented itself. As four men continued to unleash random, undirected salvos on Max's right, apparently hoping to keep her occupied, three men were advancing slowly on her left, covering each other as they moved. Rory knew it would be only moments before Max was outflanked and cut down by her enemies.

She got herself into this, she can damned well get herself out of it, Rory decided, knowing that no good would come of him rushing in to save his wayward sibling. The time has come to learn a very painful lesson. He knew that while Max could have argued whether the exploding briefcase in the alley had been meant for her, it would be impossible to deny that this had been a setup from the get-go. The three men on Max's left were almost in position to take her out, and Rory decided that a slight bit of help was necessary. Leveling a silenced Colt .38 at the men below, he fired three times, putting a bullet directly in the center of the first man's forehead, and a round into a knee of each of the other two. As he had predicted, the two remaining men screamed out in pain, drawing Max's attention. She rolled quickly to her left and let off three short bursts with her MP-5, finishing off the threat to her flank. To Rory's surprise, Max showed no sign of being at all aware that she had just been assisted.

Once her left had been cleared up, Max pushed the release for her weapon's magazine, allowing it to fall from the sub-machinegun as she rolled back to her right and snapped a fresh double magazine into position. The four remaining men continued to fire as a woman Rory assumed was Exarchos directed the action. No more help from me, he decided. He knew that he could easily end the stand-off, and that his lack of assistance could possibly cost Max her life, but Rory refused to do any more to assist his sister in a course of action he found repugnant. Besides, I've helped before, and she's only persisted in continuing her methods. I refuse to enable her any longer.

Max stood hesitantly behind her rapidly decaying cover, obviously reluctant to put any weight on her right leg. Okay, she was shot at least twice, Rory decided, amending his previous analysis.

Rory watched as Max visibly took a deep, painful breath, and then could only stare in wonder as she dashed from behind the pallet, firing three quick bursts that each eliminated a threat. The wounds she had already taken had slowed her, though, and by the time she moved her sights to the fourth gunman, she was knocked out of stride by a third round that found its mark. The bullet did not alter Max's aim enough to save Exarchos' last gunman, though. Her first burst took out the man's left leg, the hollow-tip 9mm rounds blowing off the appendage at the knee and sending the man crashing to the floor with a scream of agony. Max then quickly followed up with a second burst, allowing a sudden, eerie silence to descend over the warehouse. All that remained was Exarchos, and Max was upon the woman before she could get a well-aimed shot of her own. In the blink of an eye, the gunrunner was disarmed and thrown to the floor. Rory simply gazed down at the helpless woman for a few moments, surprised at her extremely unprofessional appearance. Exarchos' long black hair was braided in pigtails, and she wore tight-fitting black capri pants, white tennis shoes, and an alluringly tight white t-shirt that accentuated all of the curves that Rory was staring at. He almost felt it a waste that the woman's extremely attractive body would likely be bloodied very quickly.

"Who set this up?" Max asked, lashing out with a blood-soaked tobi boot that she pressed into Exarchos' throat. Her shrill, anger-filled voice echoed off the metal walls, making her seem incredibly powerful and menacing, forcing the gunrunner to whimper in fear. Rory looked below him as Max began her interrogation, and saw several cases of assault rifles, handguns, and ammunition. He had even seen a box labeled 'C-4,' but there was none of the heavy ordnance that would indicate that Exarchos was anything but small-time. He assumed that Max had also come to the conclusion that it was unlikely someone like Exarchos would have been able to put together such an effective ambush.

"Qué?" Exarchos replied, seeming to have quickly regained her bravado. "No hablo inglés, puta."

"How charming," Max commented, raising her foot for a brief second, only to send in slamming down into her prisoner's shoulder. The loud snap told Rory that the clavicle had likely been broken, and it was obvious that the arm had been dislocated from the shoulder socket. Exarchos wailed in pain, and Max repeated her question. "Who set this up?"

"Rico, I guess," Exarchos answered through gritted teeth.

"You guess?"

"Some guy I never met came by and said he was working for Rico," Exarchos explained. "He knew all the passwords and carried lots of cash. I sold him some explosives, and he advised me to hang out here for a couple of days, in case you showed up."

"I see," Max replied. "Is there a way for you to get in touch with this guy?"

"No."

"Come on, Carmen," Max said maliciously. "You actually expect me to believe that?"

"Believe what you want, but I don't contact him at all," Exarchos replied, spitting a mouthful of blood at her torturer. "He gets in touch with me when Rico wants something."

"You have to know something of value," Max replied, placing her boot back on Exarchos' throat and pressing down, causing the woman to wheeze as she strained for breath. "What I'm gonna do is keep you here like this until you think of something I can use," she threatened. "So you might as well get comfortable."

"That's enough," Rory bellowed from above. Max's head immediately turned upward, though her boot remained firmly in place on her victim's throat.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Max shouted.

"There will be no more torture," Rory said firmly, staring down at his deadly sister.

"I need the information she has," Max spat in reply. "She's the one that supplied the weapons and explosives used to kill those cops' families."

"Can you prove that?" Rory asked.

"I heard it from a reliable source," Justice answered. "And take a look around you," she added, nodding to the crates of weapons, ammunition, and explosives lining the walls. "I think that's a good bit of evidence, and I'm sure some of it can be linked to the killings."

"Then take her to the cops," Rory said. "Give them the leads you've uncovered, and let them do their jobs."

"No," Justice replied evenly. "They'll just fuck it all up."

"They're not going to fuck up an investigation into the murder of the families of police officers," Rory retorted. "If there's anything you can trust the police to handle right, this is it."

"They won't punish her the way she deserves to be," Justice countered.

"So this is about punishment?" Rory asked pointedly.

"This is about justice."

"There are courts for that," Rory said. "Justice is not for you to mete out, no matter what you might think, or what name you choose to give yourself."

"Of course it is."

"No." Rory straightened himself up and crossed his arms, standing fast to emphasize his point.

"And who are you to tell me anything?"

"Think of me as the one thing you've lost," Rory responded. "I'm Honor." Taking a deep breath, Rory leapt down from his perch above, landing lightly and settling his gaze on his sister.

"Oh, you're Honor," Justice shot back. "That's rich."

"Leave now," Rory threatened to Justice, stealing a glance to make certain Exarchos was still able to breathe. She was. "I don't want to get into this with you."

"Seems like you have no choice," Justice replied. Her fist shot out with blinding speed, but Rory parried the strike with ease. The vigilante then followed with a series of kicks and punches, all of which were deflected with a relaxed grace and precision that Rory knew would infuriate his sister. She had never fought someone who was both as physically gifted and as well trained as he was, and now Rory knew he was putting her in that unenviable position while she was nursing several gunshot wounds. Despite having been shot at least three times, Max's attacks became faster and more ferocious, and Rory realized that his sister was starting to direct her strikes with the intent to kill rather than simply immobilize. As much as he felt he could find an opening to put his opponent down, he dared not take the chance that Justice was baiting him into a foolish error. He had noticed that Exarchos had slowly started to crawl away, and allowing her to escape was his one and only plan for the time being. He knew that defeating his opponent was not vital in achieving that goal, so he didn't even try.

Come on, Max, Rory pleaded silently, hoping his sister would continue her frustrated attacks. You can fight better than this. The longer she lashed out at him, the longer Exarchos had to flee. Carmen Exarchos had finally gotten to the rear of the warehouse and entered a back room, and Rory simply hoped that his sister's prisoner would be smart enough to leave rather than re-enter the room with an assault rifle. Moments passed, and Exarchos did not reappear.

An engine started up outside, and Justice's eyes flashed momentarily as she obviously noticed the sound. A quick half-step back and a momentary re-adjustment of her weight were the only warning Rory received that his sister was going to make an attempt to recapture the gunrunner. Not willing to allow even a shred of an opportunity, Rory suddenly switched from a defensive to an offensive strategy, forcing the vigilante to defend herself rather than make an attempt to flee. Justice immediately fell back, knocked off-balance on her injured leg and suddenly forced to defend her wounded right side while only being allowed to counter-attack with her injured left arm. Rory split his attention between launching his blur of attack combinations and listening to the fading engine of Exarchos' Jeep. After he hadn't been able to hear her at all for thirty seconds, he suddenly broke off, leaping twenty-five feet into the air and grabbing a beam that spanned the warehouse. Within moments he was dashing across a catwalk as he prepared to launch himself into a running jump back up through the skylight and onto the roof.

Faster, faster, he urged himself, not wanting to risk prolonging his confrontation with Justice, though certain that she would be both unwilling and unable to pursue in her current condition. He achieved inhuman speeds as he raced across the roofs of the closely set warehouses, until he finally felt a twinge in the back of his left thigh. His stride immediately faltered and he tumbled awkwardly, rolling roughly a full twenty feet until his body finally came to a stop. I popped my hamstring, he realized, feeling an intense, throbbing and stabbing pain settle in on him. Numerous small pains also started to gnaw at him, bruises and scrapes from his tumble, as well as dull aches all along his arms and legs from his confrontation with Justice.

I have to get out of here, Rory decided immediately, scanning quickly to find Max. She was nowhere to be seen. There had been a great deal of non-silenced gunfire from Exarchos' men, and while the area seemed deserted, Rory was unwilling to take the chance that no one had heard the disturbance and called the police. He crawled over the side of the warehouse he was currently on, and climbed hesitantly down a ladder to the ground below. Once there, he was forced to hop all the way to his parked Indian bike. I'm gonna need someplace to hide while my body repairs itself. I guess that means I'll be visiting Logan again...

To be continued.............................