Dedication: To Carlos—poet, writer, musician, and above all, friend.
Author's Note. Okay. I realize that this is my first update in a while. I haven't really written in a while for personal reasons (see author's note), but I figured, hey, stop being a wimp, Terin, get back on the damn horse. So here I am…writing a really long author's note to justify my sucky writing. But before we get to the whole story part, I wanted to say a few things.
Thanks so much for all your great reviews and support. You've really helped me get back to writing, guys.
Umm…this is written in like ten different writing styles. Sorry. My writing's been all over the place lately (along with my emotions), so please bear with me. I guess I took a few more risks with this chapter than I usually do, but hell—life's really not that worth it if you don't take risks. I know that I go from first person to third person, to first again, but again, sorry.
Okay, I'm not really sure where I'm going with the whole timeline here. Max has dumped Logan for his protection (under the whole Alec cover), as in HG (don't worry, I'll get them back together), but the transgenics have not been exposed…yet. So this is like a few eps before Freak Nation. Wow, this is a really long author's note!
And now, onto your scheduled fanfic…
Chapter 6: A Cat in the Night
Seattle
The girl looked around, taking in her surroundings. Her dark eyes quickly scanned the eyes of the people in her; she counted twenty-three, not including herself. A man with brown eyes and a red base-ball cap immediately caught her attention, and she walked over to him.
"You Nat?" All the man got in response from the dark-haired girl was an affirmative nod. "Your pretty young, but that's okay. I can still use you. People trust kids." He spoke in a heavy New York accent, and appeared to be about thirty years old. "Still, I'm not sending you out on a job till I get some proof of your validity. I mean, my grandma could claim she was a world class cat burglar 'til the day was young, but I know she couldn't pick a blind and deaf man's pocket."
The girl looked around the grocery store, then back at the man. "Okay, who do you want?"
"I want you to get the wallet off of that boy-scout over their, then the earrings off of that fat-ass lady by the bread, and, last but not least, I'm gonna need you to get the neck tie off of Mr. Donut security guard in the corner." The girl looked at the man in disgust. She was a cat burglar, not a dirty pickpocket who looted poor-people who had to come to this low-class grocery store. She had always set her standards above the poor junkies stuck in the cheapest apartments—or worse—the streets. After some consideration, the thin, dark eyed girl set her face in grim determination, and, within five-minutes, had returned with the requested objects.
"Not bad kid. You know, your kind of cute. Need a place to stay? 'Cause I might just be able to find a place in my bed for you."
The girl looked at the man in disgust. "If you ever say anything like that to me again, I swear to God I will kick your skinny white ass so bad that you'll wish you never set eyes on me."
"Hey, calm down babe. Your even cuter when your mad. Hey, hey don't give me that look, I was just messin' with ya. I'm not gonna do it anymore, 'kay?"
"Look, first of all, don't call me 'babe'. Secondly, do you have a job for me or not? 'Cause if you do, spit it out, and if not, get your ugly face out of mine and I'll look for another job."
"You've got spunk kid, but you better watch yourself or you'll end up getting dead sooner than you'd like. Yeah, I have a job for you, so keep your panties on. It's at Foggel Towers, some fancy shmancy apartment complex for rich people…your kind of gig. They say the guy in the Penthouse is loaded, and he's recently purchased a few Picasso originals that are of interest to my boss." The man handed two snap-shots to the girl, who studied them for seconds before handing them back to the man. "You don't want to keep 'em?"
He looked at her with interest. She couldn't have been older than seventeen, her long dark-brown hair was tied in two braids that hung at her sides. She was petite, no bigger than five-two and looked about ninety pounds. Her 'Girl's Kick Ass' T-shirt was frayed and unwashed. 'She looks like everyone else in this world', the man thought, 'scared and broke.'
"I have a photographic memory." Her answer cut into the man's observations like a knife, and he remembered that the topic had been photographs. "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, my boss want's them by Monday, which means I need 'em by Sunday, which gives you exactly two-nights, tonight, and tomorrow night to get 'em."
"Sure. Whatever. How much am I getting for this?" She looked young, and the man thought it would be easy to play her. "Five grand. Take it or leave it."
"Five grand? Five grand? Don't fuck with me, I'm not that naïve. I could fence them myself for at least ten, maybe fifteen." The man winced. "Okay, okay, I'll give you seven, but no more. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it."
***
"I think I've found something, guys." The boy at the computer whispered, as though he was afraid of his own voice, afraid of what he had found. He was tall and lanky, with black hair and brown eyes. He seemed to portray a somewhat nerdy quality about him, but his face was deadly serious as he continued on. "I think I've found something about 'Manticore'." He stumbled on the last word, as though he could not quite get it out of his mouth.
"What do you have, Alex?" This question was issued from the mouth of the tall teen with dark hair and an authoritative presence who stood behind him.
Alex took a deep breath before beginning, as though he had a lot to say. "Apparently, 'Manticore' is a government funded project working in genetic engineering. Their goal was to create super soldiers—using the base structure of human DNA and mixing animal and various other blood in it to create beings who were basically all powerful, at least from the human standpoint. Basically, these soldiers were designed to have super-human strength, enhanced learning and healing abilities, as well as brains beyond belief which could deal with tactical problems and battle strategies in the blink of an eye."
"So what does this have to do with Liz?" Four sets of eyes turn to the shorter blond, who had voiced all of their questions.
Alex answered, very slowly so as not to get anything wrong, "Well, according to my source's information, these super-soldiers, 'transgenics' as they're called, well…they all have barcodes on their necks."
Isabelle's POV
We're all silent for a moment, just thinking about what Alex has just said. I mean, if Maria's right about Liz having a barcode on the back of her neck, it's very possible that Liz is one of these super-soldiers, 'transgenics' as Alex said. It takes me a while to process the information.
Let's face it, Liz doesn't exactly look like a super-soldier. I mean, she wears like a size 2, and the fact is that she fits the cheerleader job description a lot better than a 'transgenic'. My mind still can't get used to the word. I mean, if Liz is one of these things…it means she's not human. And that means she's something like us—in terms of the whole 'not human' sense. I think of all those times when I was a complete bitch to her, saying that she didn't know what it was like to carry around a secret, and that she didn't know what it was like to be different…and now…I feel like a fool.
I stare at Max. I think he's in shock. His face hasn't changed in any way, he's still on full-blast stoic mode. I don't think he's even twitched. Poor little brother, he should have known. We all should have…
Seattle—Foggel Towers—Logan
Logan Cale twitched. He was depressed as hell. He knew two things: a) He hated Max more than anyone else in the world. b) He loved Max more than anyone else in the world. He didn't understand. Maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he didn't want to contemplate why Max would pick Alec over him. But he did. And the answers were fairly clear—Alec was genetically perfect. He wasn't crippled, and he had her same background story. He was the 'golden boy.'
But somehow the story just didn't add up. Max had never shown any signs of anything but sisterly contempt to Alec. But who knows? Maybe he had just been a fool, a fool blinded by love. He should have known.
Logan twitched again. That's when it occurred to him. Someone was in his apartment. His first instinct was Max, and then reality hit him. No, Max wouldn't really have any reason for visiting him any longer. As quietly as he could, he crept into the main room of the penthouse, a gun in his hands. A small figure could be vaguely seen in the dim light…a figure carrying a large, painting-shaped object.
"Don't move! I have a gun!" The harshness of his voice seemed to startle Logan much more than it did the figure, who momentarily froze and then made a mad dash for the window.
The gun snapped twice. The figure paused, it appeared that the bullet had lodged in her shoulder. Then, without a second thought, she jumped from the window…
Logan flicked on the lights quickly and looked out his broken window. Though it was dark, he could see a young girl with dark black hair running away, the Picasso tucked under her good shoulder. Like a cat in the night, she had come and gone.
***
Max*
I don't know why I didn't see it before. All I keep thinking is that I'm so stupid. I mean, who knows, maybe I wanted Liz to be the damsel in distress so that I could be Mr. Knight in Shining Armor and save the day. Who knows. Maybe I was setting myself up for this. God, I should have known.
The connection should have been the first tip…when I healed her I should have picked up that something wasn't right. I was a fool.
Thanks for reading guys, and please, please, please review.
--Terin :-)
Author's Note. Okay. I realize that this is my first update in a while. I haven't really written in a while for personal reasons (see author's note), but I figured, hey, stop being a wimp, Terin, get back on the damn horse. So here I am…writing a really long author's note to justify my sucky writing. But before we get to the whole story part, I wanted to say a few things.
Thanks so much for all your great reviews and support. You've really helped me get back to writing, guys.
Umm…this is written in like ten different writing styles. Sorry. My writing's been all over the place lately (along with my emotions), so please bear with me. I guess I took a few more risks with this chapter than I usually do, but hell—life's really not that worth it if you don't take risks. I know that I go from first person to third person, to first again, but again, sorry.
Okay, I'm not really sure where I'm going with the whole timeline here. Max has dumped Logan for his protection (under the whole Alec cover), as in HG (don't worry, I'll get them back together), but the transgenics have not been exposed…yet. So this is like a few eps before Freak Nation. Wow, this is a really long author's note!
And now, onto your scheduled fanfic…
Chapter 6: A Cat in the Night
Seattle
The girl looked around, taking in her surroundings. Her dark eyes quickly scanned the eyes of the people in her; she counted twenty-three, not including herself. A man with brown eyes and a red base-ball cap immediately caught her attention, and she walked over to him.
"You Nat?" All the man got in response from the dark-haired girl was an affirmative nod. "Your pretty young, but that's okay. I can still use you. People trust kids." He spoke in a heavy New York accent, and appeared to be about thirty years old. "Still, I'm not sending you out on a job till I get some proof of your validity. I mean, my grandma could claim she was a world class cat burglar 'til the day was young, but I know she couldn't pick a blind and deaf man's pocket."
The girl looked around the grocery store, then back at the man. "Okay, who do you want?"
"I want you to get the wallet off of that boy-scout over their, then the earrings off of that fat-ass lady by the bread, and, last but not least, I'm gonna need you to get the neck tie off of Mr. Donut security guard in the corner." The girl looked at the man in disgust. She was a cat burglar, not a dirty pickpocket who looted poor-people who had to come to this low-class grocery store. She had always set her standards above the poor junkies stuck in the cheapest apartments—or worse—the streets. After some consideration, the thin, dark eyed girl set her face in grim determination, and, within five-minutes, had returned with the requested objects.
"Not bad kid. You know, your kind of cute. Need a place to stay? 'Cause I might just be able to find a place in my bed for you."
The girl looked at the man in disgust. "If you ever say anything like that to me again, I swear to God I will kick your skinny white ass so bad that you'll wish you never set eyes on me."
"Hey, calm down babe. Your even cuter when your mad. Hey, hey don't give me that look, I was just messin' with ya. I'm not gonna do it anymore, 'kay?"
"Look, first of all, don't call me 'babe'. Secondly, do you have a job for me or not? 'Cause if you do, spit it out, and if not, get your ugly face out of mine and I'll look for another job."
"You've got spunk kid, but you better watch yourself or you'll end up getting dead sooner than you'd like. Yeah, I have a job for you, so keep your panties on. It's at Foggel Towers, some fancy shmancy apartment complex for rich people…your kind of gig. They say the guy in the Penthouse is loaded, and he's recently purchased a few Picasso originals that are of interest to my boss." The man handed two snap-shots to the girl, who studied them for seconds before handing them back to the man. "You don't want to keep 'em?"
He looked at her with interest. She couldn't have been older than seventeen, her long dark-brown hair was tied in two braids that hung at her sides. She was petite, no bigger than five-two and looked about ninety pounds. Her 'Girl's Kick Ass' T-shirt was frayed and unwashed. 'She looks like everyone else in this world', the man thought, 'scared and broke.'
"I have a photographic memory." Her answer cut into the man's observations like a knife, and he remembered that the topic had been photographs. "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, my boss want's them by Monday, which means I need 'em by Sunday, which gives you exactly two-nights, tonight, and tomorrow night to get 'em."
"Sure. Whatever. How much am I getting for this?" She looked young, and the man thought it would be easy to play her. "Five grand. Take it or leave it."
"Five grand? Five grand? Don't fuck with me, I'm not that naïve. I could fence them myself for at least ten, maybe fifteen." The man winced. "Okay, okay, I'll give you seven, but no more. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it."
***
"I think I've found something, guys." The boy at the computer whispered, as though he was afraid of his own voice, afraid of what he had found. He was tall and lanky, with black hair and brown eyes. He seemed to portray a somewhat nerdy quality about him, but his face was deadly serious as he continued on. "I think I've found something about 'Manticore'." He stumbled on the last word, as though he could not quite get it out of his mouth.
"What do you have, Alex?" This question was issued from the mouth of the tall teen with dark hair and an authoritative presence who stood behind him.
Alex took a deep breath before beginning, as though he had a lot to say. "Apparently, 'Manticore' is a government funded project working in genetic engineering. Their goal was to create super soldiers—using the base structure of human DNA and mixing animal and various other blood in it to create beings who were basically all powerful, at least from the human standpoint. Basically, these soldiers were designed to have super-human strength, enhanced learning and healing abilities, as well as brains beyond belief which could deal with tactical problems and battle strategies in the blink of an eye."
"So what does this have to do with Liz?" Four sets of eyes turn to the shorter blond, who had voiced all of their questions.
Alex answered, very slowly so as not to get anything wrong, "Well, according to my source's information, these super-soldiers, 'transgenics' as they're called, well…they all have barcodes on their necks."
Isabelle's POV
We're all silent for a moment, just thinking about what Alex has just said. I mean, if Maria's right about Liz having a barcode on the back of her neck, it's very possible that Liz is one of these super-soldiers, 'transgenics' as Alex said. It takes me a while to process the information.
Let's face it, Liz doesn't exactly look like a super-soldier. I mean, she wears like a size 2, and the fact is that she fits the cheerleader job description a lot better than a 'transgenic'. My mind still can't get used to the word. I mean, if Liz is one of these things…it means she's not human. And that means she's something like us—in terms of the whole 'not human' sense. I think of all those times when I was a complete bitch to her, saying that she didn't know what it was like to carry around a secret, and that she didn't know what it was like to be different…and now…I feel like a fool.
I stare at Max. I think he's in shock. His face hasn't changed in any way, he's still on full-blast stoic mode. I don't think he's even twitched. Poor little brother, he should have known. We all should have…
Seattle—Foggel Towers—Logan
Logan Cale twitched. He was depressed as hell. He knew two things: a) He hated Max more than anyone else in the world. b) He loved Max more than anyone else in the world. He didn't understand. Maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he didn't want to contemplate why Max would pick Alec over him. But he did. And the answers were fairly clear—Alec was genetically perfect. He wasn't crippled, and he had her same background story. He was the 'golden boy.'
But somehow the story just didn't add up. Max had never shown any signs of anything but sisterly contempt to Alec. But who knows? Maybe he had just been a fool, a fool blinded by love. He should have known.
Logan twitched again. That's when it occurred to him. Someone was in his apartment. His first instinct was Max, and then reality hit him. No, Max wouldn't really have any reason for visiting him any longer. As quietly as he could, he crept into the main room of the penthouse, a gun in his hands. A small figure could be vaguely seen in the dim light…a figure carrying a large, painting-shaped object.
"Don't move! I have a gun!" The harshness of his voice seemed to startle Logan much more than it did the figure, who momentarily froze and then made a mad dash for the window.
The gun snapped twice. The figure paused, it appeared that the bullet had lodged in her shoulder. Then, without a second thought, she jumped from the window…
Logan flicked on the lights quickly and looked out his broken window. Though it was dark, he could see a young girl with dark black hair running away, the Picasso tucked under her good shoulder. Like a cat in the night, she had come and gone.
***
Max*
I don't know why I didn't see it before. All I keep thinking is that I'm so stupid. I mean, who knows, maybe I wanted Liz to be the damsel in distress so that I could be Mr. Knight in Shining Armor and save the day. Who knows. Maybe I was setting myself up for this. God, I should have known.
The connection should have been the first tip…when I healed her I should have picked up that something wasn't right. I was a fool.
Thanks for reading guys, and please, please, please review.
--Terin :-)