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Unfamiliar Territory by Sorrow

Chapter Two - Law of Coincidence


Ames stared at the house across the road with an intensity that suggested he was subconsciously willing it to magically change. Of course, it didn't. With growing agitation, he glanced around at the quiet, relatively deserted street ahead of him, before turning to stare at the building across the road once more. It had been over a decade since he had last been here but now he had returned to the place he'd tried his damnest to forget.

Though he knew he had been foolish to hope otherwise, this place was obviously deserted. In fact, it was barely standing. No doubt the damn thing was condemned too. Part of him belated this fact, but then - this wreck of a home could work in his favour, Ames concluded. It would at least make a good place to lay low for a while. And perhaps he'd find a few remnants of his father's past that would provide a lead as to where he could be found now. Though, with the heat Sandeman was packing when he disappeared, there was probably little chance of that.

Stepping out from the car he'd been able to hire thanks to the false ID, Ames strode across the road and approached the rotting villa. Glancing behind him as he reached the door, he quickly opened it and stepped inside. The scent of old wood, oil paint and turpentine instantly greeted his nostrils. Surprised by the relatively fresh chemical odours, Ames was immediately wary. Pulling out his gun and holding it ready, he stepped soundlessly down the hall, all the while trying to figure out what was causing a cold sliver of anticipation to thread its way down his spine.

The house was a jumbled mess and Ames wondered how many squatters had come to inhabit the place in the past fourteen or so years. As he made his way into the living room, the smell of paint grew stronger, and Ames prepared himself to greet what would likely be a motley group of glue sniffing street kids.

Instead, his sight met a puzzling array of boards stacked about the room, covered in a melange of seemingly random paint splatters. But what truly startled Ames was the computer equipment which decorated one corner of the room. He stopped in mid step, unsure as to what this meant.

Crossing the room, Ames took curious note of the assortment of hardware before him. A CPU that appeared as if it were built from scratch, a couple of LCD screens which by comparison to the CPU, were almost brand new... and pieces of hard drive scattered about the desk. The mixture of ancient and hi-tech hardware was a riddle he suddenly longed to solve. Obviously someone was using the house, but who would have need of such equipment in this run down ramshackle dump? Was it someone trying to exist under the radar? As much as Ames didn't want to jump to conclusions, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe his father, Sandeman, could be living here after all

Forcing back the urge to investigate this room further, Ames made his way through the rest of the house, checking each room to ensure there was no one laying in wait. Having cleared the ground and top floor, he descended the stairs into the basement. His eyes scanned every area, mentally assessing the surroundings for signs that his father had in fact returned home. There was nothing. Nothing but junk and books and the scent of paint. Whoever had taken up residence in this house since Sandeman deserted it, had certainly developed his father's fondness for sniffing the old fumes. Sandeman had not returned, but Ames had no doubt that the owner of the computer equipment would. Nor did he doubt that he could easily disperse the squatter.

Returning to the living room at last, Ames pulled up a chair and turned on the computer, curiosity now replacing caution as he waited for the hardware to laboriously flare into life. The monitor blinked on, revealing a blue screen and a password verification. Of course - he should have known it wouldn't be this easy. Picking up a pen that sat beside the monitor, he tapped it against his lip as he pondered on how to get around the password request. Unfortunately, computing had always been something Ames left to the various people who did his bidding. Patience was another thing Ames White was less than well skilled in. And the more he pondered on the password, the more agitated he grew. Finally a conclusion was reached that if he didn't walk away from the stupid piece of shit now, he'd send it flying across the room.

Switching off the computer, Ames pushed back from the chair and tried to calm his frayed nerves. He paced the room, running an uneasy hand through his hair. His first night as a wanted fugitive had been spent in his car. Having suffered a cramped uneasy sleep, he now longed for the comfort of a shower to refresh himself. He couldn't concentrate, his mind continued to run in circles. If there was some kind of path ahead, be it clear or not, he could at least know which direction to steer in. But there was nothing. Twenty-four hours as a hunted man, and Ames wasn't dealing with it well. He should be better than this. He was a familiar damn it! But the words bashed against the inside of Ames's head with a dull unenthusiastic thud. Relentless, enduring, driven... he was all of these things. But right now, he was also at the very edge of his limits. And the one thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't spend his life running.

The true hopelessness of his situation fully struck Ames at this point. He'd never find his father. The Conclave had been searching for years and they had resources beyond his capability to imagine. Knowing only anger as a means by which to react, he ceased pacing long enough to drive a frustrated fist through the wall. Sheer willpower and seething anger was all he had left to drive him on, to stop him from giving up. But right now, that wasn't enough.

Reminding himself that he at least had a place to stay, of which the Conclave had no knowledge, Ames felt grateful for that one small reassurance. This house was a part of his father's life that Ames had for some reason, chosen not to inform the Conclave of. Maybe because he just wanted to forget any connect he had to the traitor. Or maybe there was a small portion of him that wanted to keep a memory of his father to himself. Such a ridiculously sentimental notion should have caused Ames to laugh. But being here right now gave him a sense of familiarity, and that in turn granted a small measure of comfort amid the turmoil of unsurity his life had suddenly become engulfed in.

Ames hoped that the Conclave hadn't discovered the whereabouts of Sandeman's home via other means. He knew his father had left in a hurry, but had never bothered to care whether Manticore or the Conclave had caused him to abandon the place. He just hoped he was right in assuming it was the former of the two options.

At that moment a sound outside broke through Ames's ponderings and caused him to freeze. A voice drifted to his ears from the sidewalk. Another voice accompanied it and they were drawing closer. The gleeful grin that had began to slowly creep across his face as he recognised the voices, was stifled by the mental kick he gave himself for allowing himself to be captured by his musings - to drop his guard. There was no place in this room where he could immediately hide and so with no other alternative, Ames exited the living room and ducked into a hallway closet nearby.


Logan stepped through the doorway, followed by Max and Alec. Alec's cheerful energetic voice bounced off the walls, causing his two companions to cringe from the intensity of such enthusiasm for... life. Of course, each one of them were oblivious to Ames White's presence. For months now, this place had been a first home for Joshua and a second home for Alec. Its connection to Sandeman had given the transgenics the same sense of comfort in times of strife, that it had now given Ames. Never would they have considered it as anything less than a safe haven. And so believing it to be occupied by no one else except themselves, the three companions (companions being a somewhat loosely used word), made no effort to censor their conversation.

Passing the hallway closet without a second thought as to its contents, they entered the living room. Max glared at Alec as he sung some upbeat pre-pulse tune beneath his breath, his easy going manner irritating her more so than usual. "God Alec would you calm down? Anyone would think you need Ritalin!"

Alec turned back to Max and slung an arm casually around her shoulders, his smile not faltering for an instant. He was used to his friend's sullen moods and enjoyed provoking her. Each smart ass quip from him would cause her eyes to light. And although anger and impatience was usually the fuel that lit them, at least she would for a while - seem a little more lively than a sad-eyed dying cat.

"Oh come on Maxie - join in the good cheer! White is about as much threat to us as a pimple on the ass and thanks to him, the heat is off our backs! For now at least..."

Max pulled a face from the imagery brought about by Alec's mention of skin eruptions, and shoved him away, a smile haunting the edges of her lips. "How about you stop clowning around? We gotta concentrate on gathering up Logan's stuff while the heat is off us remember."

Alec sighed at the rebuff and unwittingly turned to Logan for support. The cyber journalist wore a slight frown which deepened as he stated. "You know Alec, some of us around here prefer not to treat life like one big joke."

"Aint that the truth." Mumbling the words under his breath, Alec rolled his eyes before glancing to Max once more. Finding himself beneath her steel glare too, he turned away like a dejected child and wandered over to the computer equipment. "Aiight then. Let's get this Eye's Only cra.. uh.. stuff packed up and taken to its new home."

Logan had recently announced to Max that he was the proud owner (under the dummy name of Sowley Opticals) of the Medtronics buildings, situated near the back end of Terminal City. One building was inside the perimeter fence, therefore a part of the permanently quarantined waste land, while the other was on the outskirts - in the safe zone. Linking the two was a convenient tunnel - an essential strike of good luck for the transgenics.

The story of how Logan had come to possess these twin goldmines was a long and somewhat dubious one, but basically, they had belonged to his uncle Jonas. Being that they were so close to Terminal City and therefore worthless real estate, Jonas had been more than happy to sell them off to his nephew for a pittance.

Most of Logan's equipment was already in the building outside of Terminal City's perimeter fence. But as far as the authorities knew, the place was uninhabited. Therefore he had decided to leave some of his belongings here in Sanderman's house. But as much as he wanted to keep this place as a safe house, he knew there was no sense keeping a few odds and ends lying around for scavengers to peck at. If the army sprung him hiding out in the old Medtronics building, it would make little difference if he was caught with all or most of his Eyes Only set up.

Alec turned away as Logan began to unplug cables, and began instead to scan the room. He had an uneasy feeling festering away in the pit of his stomach, but couldn't quite place why. And then his eyes fell upon the fist sized hole in the wall opposite him. That was something he couldn't remember having come across before.

"Ma-ax..." Turning back to his fellow X5, Alec nodded towards the wall.

Max put down the armload of odds and ends she'd found herself laden with and wandered over to stand beside him. Examining the hole with a perplexed look on her face, she glanced back to Alec with a raised eyebrow. "This is strange."

"Ya think?"

Ignoring her friend's sarcasm, Max turned to Logan who was staring critically at the equipment she had just put down, no doubt pondering over whether they now needed sterilization.

"Logan, you do this?"

Her question drew Logan from his thoughts and he looked to the newest source of conversation, his frown increasing.

"No, of course not!"

Max tapped a foot as she chewed her bottom lip, trying to figure out how the hole could have appeared. "Well, do you remember if it was it here before?"

Logan's gaze swept across the room, taking in the general state of disrepair. "You know Max, I really don't think I would have noticed."

With the somewhat precarious way in which things were arranged in this room, Logan posed a good point. Despite his efforts to houseclean while he had stayed, the rustic beauty of Sandeman's home had long ago fallen into ruin. The economic depression into which the United States had plunged following the Pulse, had inevitably taken its toll. A hole in the wall hardly made a dent when it came to judging the state of decrepitation that the house now wallowed in. What was one more tear in the fabric of an already broken world?

Max now looked questioningly to Alec who simply raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Mirroring his movement, she sighed in defeat, realising it was a somewhat irrelevant issue to worry over in the first place. "Yeah I guess. Maybe Joshua did it after Annie..."

Her voice trailed away and the room descended into gloomy silence as all three pondered upon the events that had initially caused Joshua to flee from the memories of Father's house.

"Uh..." Alec cleared his throat. "So uh, now would be a good time for a bit of good old Alec clownism huh?"

Without a complaint from either of his companions, Alec began to fill the room with his incessant chatter once more. As his voice swept life's painful issues back under the carpet where they belonged, this time the diversion was a welcome one.


From his hiding place in the closet, Ames exhaled a breath of relief in knowing the 'squatters' were not going to mount a full scaled search of the house after all. He had no doubt in his own abilities, but he didn't savour the idea of coming face to face with 452 and 494 both. And in the least, exposure would mean that he would have to find a new hide-away. With the authorities and Conclave likely to both be tightening their nets, slipping through sector checkpoints would be difficult now, even with the alias he had tucked snugly away in his pocket. Having berated himself for causing the spotlight to swing in his direction - yet again, Ames then turned his mind towards making the most of this new situation.

Despite the need for silence, Ames wanted so badly to laugh out loud. For months, he had been searching for 452. And for months she had forced him to face the embarrassment of his own failure time and time again. Generous amounts of 'off the record' cash had been spent in hunting down her and her kind. The irony lay in the fact that the very one by whom he had become blinded in his desire to capture, had been right under his nose - on his very home ground - all along. And he was only to find out now - now that he was as hunted as she.

But there could be a way to turn this all around. After all, this strange coincidence couldn't have just fallen into his lap for no reason. As long as the transgenics were oblivious to his presence in this house, he had an advantage of sorts over them. They obviously had some kind of way in and out of Terminal City by which they felt reasonably secure. And then there was the other piece of information he had gleaned - he now knew the face behind Eyes Only. And to add to the irony that was his life, it was a face he had met on a couple of occasions already. Bittersweet that the knowledge was, it was a handy piece of information he could no doubt tuck away for later - rather like a Monopoly voucher.

"Okay, that's it. We're off."

Max started towards the front door, a box of gear in her hands. She didn't stop to give the room a silent goodbye. Perhaps she'd return here or perhaps not. It all depended on whether she could count on Terminal City still standing tomorrow and the next day and the next... Nostalgia wasn't high on her list of priorities when the fate of a small nation took up most of her waking thoughts. And besides, she had flown enough coops in her life time to have learnt that a reflective look backwards only serves to make moving forward that much harder.

"Wait up Max. What about Joshua's paintings?" Alec grabbed her elbow and swung her about to face him. "Aren't they important too?"

Max huffed impatiently and rolled her eyes. "Josh has the whole of Terminal City to redecorate Alec. What's with the sentimentality? Are you gonna put in an order for Sandeman's piano too?"

Alec blanched at Max's words and she instantly regretted saying them. She knew Alec hadn't touched the piano in the basement since the night of Joshua's dinner party. It brought up too many painful memories of Rachael and Manticore for him to ever consider playing it again. By making light of the piano, Max had in turn, made light of the wounds that continued to seep inside of Alec. And she had enough wounds of her own to understand the cruelty she had just shown him.

"I'm sorry Alec..."

He forced a quick smile and swept the conversation on towards his original point. Now was certainly not the time to linger on such thoughts. "Look, I was just thinking - his paintings fetched a good price once. Perhaps Rita would be interested in buying some more. I mean, there's a lot of uh.. angst expressionism in his stuff. And we may need the bucks to stock up on supplies."

It was Logan who jumped in and encouraged Max to thumbs up the suggestion. "You never know, it may help to get the message out that transgenics aren't just mindless monsters. And - it's honest money."

"And, it'll help get Eyes Only up and running with some decent equipment - can't forget that." Alec threw in the last comment with a grin, knowing it was a thought that had already surfaced in Logan's mind, but one the cyber-journalist wasn't going to outright bring up.

"Fine! I see your point. We'll come back tomorrow after we've seen Clemente. Long as the combined powers of the United States are still after Ames White's ass and not our own, that is."

Exchanging a grin with Logan, Alec nodded his acceptance of the idea as they followed Max out the door. "Yeah the guy's probably thrown himself into the Puget Sound by now. They'll find his body washed up on in a day or two."

"Yeah, I wish."

The door closed behind them and as their voices faded down the pathway, silence dropped over the house once more.

When he was sure they were well and truly gone, Ames emerged from the closet and peered through the front window of the living room. Whatever vehicle they had arrived in, was now gone. But with any lucky, they'd return tomorrow. Stepping over to the paintings that he had barely paid attention to when he had first entered this room, Ames began to work out a plan inside his mind. This was indeed a lucky strike of coincidence. And if he wrangled it right, he could surely worm his way back into the Conclave's good books. For the first time since his life had erupted into one big festering mess, Ames finally began to feel a tiny sliver of hope. Perhaps good things could happen to bad people after all.