Disclaimer: Nope, last time I looked in a mirror I wasn't James Cameron or anyone else lucky enough to own Dark Angel.
Summary: Sequel to "Then it comes to be." The cult loonies are gone but the transgenics have other problems to deal with, not to mention a whole civilization to build. M/A
Rating: R because of occasional violence and sex.
A/N: The NC-17 version of this story is posted at http://nunswithpens.hyperboards.com/.
WARNING: Some people may find certain aspects of the faked assassination gruesome. I don't mean to be disrespectful to the dead or offend anyone; I'm simply trying to be realistic about what would be required to successfully fake someone's death. I apologize in advance if it disturbs anyone. Blame it on watching too many crime shows on TV.
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Blink sauntered in HQ the next morning, whistling cheerfully under his breath. He'd spent the night up a tree on surveillance duty outside the target's house, and he looked like it. Small bits of bark clung to his clothes and a leaf was caught in his hair. He headed for the conference table where Alec, Max, Conner, Dix, Luke, and Jazz were huddled together discussing tactics. Max was slumped in her seat with a sour look on her face.
Blink grinned cheerfully at her and tossed a copy of the Weekly World News on the table in front of her. "Here, this oughtta cheer you up. Picked it up on my way in."
On the cover of the tabloid was a photo of the six X-8 kids Sketchy had interviewed, standing amid the rubble and wreckage of Terminal City. Across the top in bold type screamed the headline, "TOY SOLDIERS! Government Turns Children into Killers!!"
Alec leaned over Max's shoulder to read the article. He laid his hand on the back of her neck and idly traced patterns on her skin with his thumb. Max relaxed cat-like into his touch.
"It's good," Max said in surprise. "Every parent is gonna picture their own child in our place. Maybe they'll think twice before screaming for our blood."
"That was the plan," Alec replied.
Max craned her neck to look up at him. "We owe Sketchy big time for this. He's single-handedly revamping our reputation."
"So we'll send him a fruit basket," Alec said with his incorrigible grin. He grabbed the newspaper and sauntered across the room to join Lydecker in the corner. He dropped the paper on the other man's desk with the picture of the six genetically perfect, forlorn-looking children facing up. "Better not leave TC for a while. You're every parent's nightmare."
Lydecker stared at Alec, his expression unreadable. Behind them, Dix flicked on the TV to a daytime news talk show. Revered Terry Caldwell was debating the transgenic issue with a human rights activist from Amnesty International. "Hey boss," Dix called out, "it's our least favourite bible-thumper."
These creatures are unnatural, the Reverend insisted. They no more have a soul than a genetically modified tomato.
A small portion of the studio audience clapped vigorously in response. Several held up a giant banner painted with the words, "Transgencis are filth in the eyes of God."
Skin colour is a genetic modification, replied the human rights activist. We do not persecute people, CHILDREN, over something they have no control over. The transgenics are just an extreme case. They didn't ask to be made that way.
Some people in the audience clapped. Several more nodded thoughtfully in agreement.
Which is precisely my point. These creatures were not created by God. They are abominations!
They saved this city from a terrorist attack. Hardly the work of the devil.
They have no right to exist! The Reverend's face turned bright red and his eyes bugged out of his head in self-righteous indignation. Compared to the calm, restrained activist, the Revered looked fanatical and more than slightly deranged.
Max turned away from the TV to answer her ringing cell phone. As she suspected, it was a very annoyed Witherspoon.
Did I not make myself perfectly clear after the last incident? he hissed. You were NOT to speak to the press.
I didn't, Max replied. The reporter talked to a bunch of kids about how horrible our lives were like at Manticore. There isn't a single word in that article about the terms of our deal. So take a deep breath and calm down before you have a stroke.
You are on very thin ice, 452. I suggest you watch your step.
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered as she hung up. She glanced over at Alec. "He's pissed. You sure Sketch is safe from his goons?"
Alec draped his arm around her shoulder and tucked her against his side. "Sketchy'll be fine. They can't touch him. If they did, every reporter in the country would be all over the story."
"But you still got watchers out, right? Just in case."
"Yep."
----*----
Mission status? Witherspoon barked into the phone.
Deck hesitated slightly before answering. On target.
You sound less than convinced. Are they refusing to comply with the deadline?
No.
Then what's the problem?
Let's just say I find their compliance somewhat…suspicious Deck replied vaguely.
They were trained to be compliant.
Yes, they were. But this isn't Manticore. As I told the committee, my kids are evolving. They're starting to think for themselves.
I don't have time to debate their psychological evolution. Get to the point, Colonel Lydecker. What exactly do you suspect? A hidden agenda?
It's possible. I don't know. Yet.
Witherspoon snarled something under his breath. Find out what they're up to. In the meantime, I'm putting watchers on the target. The transgenics better complete the mission as ordered, or they will regret it. I expect you to make that perfectly clear to them, Colonel. You are their superior officer. Exert your authority. They exist on the committee's sufferance. If they dare to step out of line, they will be eliminated. He slammed the phone down.
Jazz ripped the headphones off and swore aloud every foul oath she could think of. Lydecker was on to them, and now Witherspoon was suspicious too. She grabbed the tape and hurried off to inform Alec.
----*----
The target, James Miller, lived in an expensive neighbourhood overlooking the ocean. Curved driveways led to stone homes that were tucked out of sight behind old-growth trees and high fences. Miller's house wasn't the most palatial on the street, but it was obvious just from looking at it that he wasn't short of funds. He certainly lived better than ought to be possible on his salary.
Max and Alec glided from shadow to shadow down the dark street. Conner, the weapons specialist, and a lithe brunette known as Lizzie followed soundlessly behind. All four transgenics were dressed in unrelieved black. The girls wore identical body-skimming cat suits and the guys had on cargo pants and tight turtlenecks. They blended completely into the night.
They paused three houses down from their target and crouched behind a long, high bush. The thick leaves hid them from Witherspoon's agents, who were watching from inside a plain, grey van advertising home renovations that was parked across the street from Miller's place.
At Alec's signal, Conner reached around the end of the bush and pushed aside two loose boards in the fence to reveal a gap just large enough to crawl through. Blink had scouted out the best route the night before and created holes in each fence between the bush and Miller's back door. Conner wriggled through the gap first. Together he and Lizzie manoeuvred a heavy, oblong bag through the hole. Lizzie squeezed in after, and then the two X-5s disappeared into the night with their burden.
Alec and Max continued skulking down the street. They paused briefly outside Miller's gate, giving Witherspoon's team the opportunity to note their presence. Although it would have been child's play for the transgenics to get in and out without being obvious about it, the whole point of the charade was to let Witherspoon see them obeying orders.
They silently jumped the fence and scuttled across the lawn. The house was dark and still, as if its owner was trying to pretend no one was home. Max swiftly picked the lock on the back door and she and Alec slipped inside. They left the door ajar for Conner and Lizzie, who were still making their slow way across the neighbours' lawns.
Max and Alec tiptoed silently through the house to the den, following the sound of the TV. They found James Miller slumped in a leather armchair with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He was nursing a rather large glass of scotch and idly flipping through the channels on his big screen TV.
"Hey mister, wanna buy some life insurance?" Alec asked as they sauntered into the room.
Miller's eyes bugged out of his head at the sudden appearance of two black-clad strangers in his house. He leaped to his feet and raced to the desk in the corner of the room. He yanked open the middle drawer hard enough to send it crashing to the floor and fumbled through the mess of papers and office supplies. He seized a gun and waved it in their general direction. "Stay, stay where you are or I'll shoot. I mean it!"
As a threat it wasn't very convincing, given that Miller's voice had gone dry with fear and his hand was shaking so badly that it was more likely he'd injure himself rather than either of the intruders.
Max glanced over at Alec and rolled her eyes. Alec grinned and with a courtly half-bow he gestured for her to go ahead. She blurred across the room and snatched the gun out of Miller's hand. He gasped and turned dead white. With a distasteful expression she tossed the gun to Alec. He automatically checked the clip and then tucked it into his waistband.
"Oh stop snivelling," she snapped at Miller. "You aren't dead yet."
Miller gathered the shreds of his tattered dignity around him. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"Certain corrupt officials in what passes for our national government these days are rather pissed off that you've been snitching on them to the FBI," Alec explained calmly. "So they sent us here to kill you."
Miller gulped noisily, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His eyes darted around the room, looking frantically for an escape, but the two transgenics stood between him and the door.
"Nah, nah, don't worry. We only kill bad guys which, unless you've been cheating on your mistress, your taxes, and your golf game, you aren't." Alec smiled reassuringly.
"So here's the deal," Max cut in impatiently. "We're gonna fake your death and send you far, far away and you're gonna keep your mouth shut. It's got you in enough trouble already."
"But I can't just leave!," he protested. "The FBI need my testimony to-"
"Hey! We're sticking our own necks in the noose to save your sorry ass," Max said angrily. "If you do the noble thing and keep on blabbing, the government's gonna know you aren't dead. And you won't be the only one they'll go after."
Alec took a menacing step forward, closing the distance between him and Miller. He still wore a polite smile, but his eyes were hard and he pinned Miller with his gaze. "Not many people get a second chance at life. No one gets a third." Alec's quiet, deliberate tone of voice was more frightening than any threat shouted at gunpoint.
Miller gulped and nodded vigorously in understanding. He sighed in audible relief when Alec released his gaze.
"Hey boss," Conner called from the doorway, "we're ready."
Miller yelped in surprise at the second intrusion into his home. His eyes went wide when he realized the two newcomers were carrying what could only be a body bag. He scrubbed at his face with a trembling hand and shook his head in disbelief at what was happening to him.
Max shuddered in distaste at the sight of the bag. "I'd just like to say once more, yuck!"
Alec sighed. "If the cops don't find a body in the car, they aren't gonna believe the target's really dead. Which is the whole point of this, remember."
"Yeah, but the poor guy."
"He's dead, Max. I don't think he cares one way or the other. Besides, he was heading for a pauper's grave. At least this way he gets a proper burial."
"Under someone else's name!"
"Well, it's better than Anonymous." Alec turned to Miller and held out his hand. "I need your signet ring."
"Why?" He unconsciously shielded the ring from view with his other hand.
"So the cops can identify the body," Alec said patiently. The man was clearly going into shock.
"But this ring has been in my family for four generations," he protested.
"Would you rather trade places with John Doe here? Cuz that's your second option."
The target glanced at the body bag and then hastily looked away as Conner knelt to unzip it. He glanced around the room as if seeking an opinion from the walls and then sighed and slipped the ring off his finger. Alec took it from him and tossed it to Conner.
"But, um, won't they run dental records and find out it's not me?" Miller asked nervously.
Alec grinned. "Already replaced your x-rays with Nameless Joe's here. Don't worry, we've got it covered. We need this to go off without a hitch as badly as you do." Alec shrugged out of the backpack he was carrying and tossed it to Conner. "Don't forget this."
Conner grinned and slung the backpack on his back, and then he and Lizzie picked up the body bag and carried it out to the garage. Alec flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV.
Miller cleared his throat nervously. "Shouldn't we, um, be going now?"
"Nope. Not til after midnight," Alec replied without looking up from the TV screen.
"Huh? Why?"
"Cuz that's when you usually leave to meet your contact. You do anything out of the ordinary tonight and it'll look suspicious. Which, for the record, is not a good thing. So sit down." He pointed to the armchair Miller had been sitting in earlier. "Hey, you got any popcorn?"
Miller stared at him in disbelief and then stumbled across the room and collapsed into the chair. He reached for his scotch, desperately needing something to dull his frazzled nerves.
Max snatched the glass away and moved it out of his reach. "Un un. Bad idea." It would be hard enough to sneak him out of there without him getting drunk too. She unzipped her vest and pulled out his new passport and birth certificate. "Here. Meet the new you. Might as well get used to it." She handed him the documents and then curled up on the couch next to Alec.
Miller stared numbly at the proof of his new identity, his hand trembling. The papers fell from his limp fingers and fluttered to the floor. Miller buried his face in his hands.
Max and Alec exchanged a guilty look. They were rearranging Miller's entire life and he had no say in any of it. Alec shrugged fatalistically. "No choice. It's gotta be done if he wants to live," he whispered softly.
Max nodded. All things considered, he was taking it remarkably well.
Conner and Lizzie returned from the garage. She tossed Alec the detonator. Conner stared wistfully at the big screen TV. Lizzie nudged him in the ribs and jerked her head in the direction of the back door. Conner sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, but he followed her out. They left the way Max and Alec had arrived. In the dark they looked enough like Max and Alec to fool Witherspoon's watchers, provided they moved fast enough so no one got a close look.
Time crawled, but eventually the clock struck 1 AM. Max led Miller across the lawn and through the waiting gap in the fence. Alec gave them a five-minute head start and then turned on the car, put it in gear, and gave it a shove so it started rolling down the driveway. He grabbed the detonator out of his pocket as he raced for the fence. He pressed the button and Miller's car exploded in a ball of flame that lit up the night.
Alec hesitated briefly. He stared mesmerized at the blaze, a grim expression on his face as he remembered a different car bomb, a different victim. With an effort of will he wrenched himself out of the memory and dived through the hole in the fence. Working swiftly he moved the loose boards back into position and then blurred across the lawn. He was crouching beside Max and Miller before the first of Miller's curious neighbours stumbled out of their homes to gawk at the flaming wreck in Miller's driveway. In all the commotion, no one noticed the trio hiding in the shadows behind the bush.
Max's face split into a huge grin of delight at the success of their plan. Together she and Alec hustled Miller down the street and disappeared into the night.
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