A/N: I'm doing the story backwards, because I wanted to experiment with writing the prologue a different way. The prologue takes place *after* the actual story; the chapters tell what happens leading up to the prologue. Which means, yes, you won't find out Max's fate and whether or not Alec turns himself into a human pancake until the epilogue. Cruel? Probably. Thank you for the reviews; you guys said such nice things! My next chapters will probably be longer; I had some trouble with this one. I hope you all enjoy! Please R&R. Any help to improve my writing is welcome. I appologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes; I'm the only one checking this thing over and am not going to catch everything, I'm sure. Also, I'm changing the rating to R for language and subject matter; I'm planning on making this very dark and violent.
Disclaimer: Dark Angel and all things associated with it belong to Fox; I own nothing. Don't bother suing me; I'm broke like you wouldn't believe, so you're not going to get much.
Chapter One
____________________________________________________________________________
Hatred
Streets
Seattle Wa., September 3rd, 2021
He lay contemplating his innards with a curious sort of detachment. Fingers slick
with the gore spilled from his own body, crimson thick upon them even as the tempest
raging overhead sought to purify flesh.
They came for him in an ever-tightening circle, swinging chains, and 2-by-4's, his
most violent tormentor still clutching the knife that had opened his gut.
A blow aimed at his ribs curled the boy into fetal position.
Animosity hung thick within the taut atmosphere; he felt its presence all around.
In the roughness of their eyes, and the hard-featured planes of faces twisted in loathing.
"Fuckin' tranny." Disgust rang clear in the words.
And the beatings resumed, more furious than before, fueled by their growing
anger. He spasmed beneath each blow, fresh blood spreading across the pavement.
Vomit seared his throat; the boy turned to empty the remnants of his last meal
onto the street. The foam of blood bubbled on his cracked lips. He swiped a grimy
sleeve over his mouth.
The rain cooled errant rivers of bodily fluids with a light hiss of protest at such
grisly work. He watched the blood stream in ribbons from his shattered body, blurred
into incongruous lines by hazy vision.
Another surge of blood frothed to his mouth; he spat it toward the body nearest
him.
A devastating blow to the head rewarded his final show of defiance.
The boy welcomed the coming darkness.
He felt the chill of Death's touch all through him, his waning hearing picking up
on sudden angry shouts in those final moments before his spirit rose. The mob drew
back; the boy felt their body heat dissipate into the damp surroundings.
Someone crouched beside him. The passage of gentle fingertips sent warmth
through the shroud of Death.
He smiled into the hand that cupped his cheek, and slipped quietly away.
She moved with the agility and strength present only in others of her kind. They
shrank in fear and parted before her, slack-jawed in their terror as this lithe young woman
felled his murderers right and left.
Anger burned fierce within. She felt its warmth penetrate her entire body.
Adrenaline numbed all other emotions; it's metallic sharpness danced upon her lips.
Bone crunched; Max felt it give way beneath her fist. The man before her went
down in a violent clash of rainwater and gore. She spun, and drop-kicked another in the
face.
Falling rain glanced off steel; she dodged the knife thrust toward her chest. The
follow-through carried her attacker off balance. Her heel knocked him upside the back
of the head, plunging him into churned mire.
"What the fuck are you?" one of the few left standing gasped.
"Pissed off." Max said, and blurred to meet him with a vicious backfist across
the face.
Those who could took now to the streets, running with a speed born upon terror,
moving impressively quick for norms. Only the mutilated body and young woman
remained now, curling mists working slowly to embrace the morbid scene.
She crouched slowly beside him.
Max stroked sodden hair from the boy's forehead. Beneath the rivulets of blood,
she glimpsed his youthful features, and the quiet serenity of his pale face.
Bitterness surged hot in her breast. *He shouldn't have died. Not like this. He's
just a kid.* The young man's body spoke of one no more than thirteen, perhaps fourteen
years of age. But so badly had it been mangled by the mob's cruel beatings, little more of
his identity could be guessed.
Another glance roused tears from beyond her rain-dampened lashes.
*I'm sorry I couldn't save you.*
The rain slowed in tempo, almost as though it wished to respect the dead, pooling
slowly around the bike she'd hastily abandoned a few feet away.
In the distance, the keening shriek of sirens began.
Only the tacking of computer keys permeated the early-morning serenity. The air
carried the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and memories of Asha's
shampoo-honeysuckle and roses-hung thick.
Logan reached for the mug beside him and scrolled the page with his free hand.
Hot liquid carved a burning path to his stomach.
He nudged his slightly askew glances with one finger.
The door exploded open.
At one time, he'd have instantly assumed it was Max who made so flamboyant an
entrance. But since the breakup, she'd neglected to contact him unless the situation
desperately called for such a measure. Now only one remained who would barge so
boldly into his apartment.
The X-5's insistent whistling grated instantly on his nerves.
He'd never been particularly fond of the irritating, egotistic transgenic; but there
had been tolerance. Now, after learning of Alec's part in Logan and Max's split, his
feelings had begun to progress with more hostility.
"Hey, Logan."
"Alec." Logan barely turned his head to acknowledge the younger man.
Alec headed into the kitchen, drawn by the tempting fragrance of caffeine.
Apparently he'd failed to notice the less-than-welcoming aura emanating from the
apartment's owner, but then Logan had come to learn that subtlety was lost upon the
man.
*Help yourself.* Logan thought wryly, shaking his head.
He turned back to his work, reaching again for his coffee.
"Eyes-Only have a date last night?"
Logan glanced up to find the transgenic lounging against the wall of the kitchen
entrance, coffee pot in hand, pouring himself a cup.
"Date?"
"Yeah, you know; where two members of the opposite sex-sometimes same sex,
depends on your preference-get together and play around." He set the coffee pot aside on
the table. "Logan, pal, I know it's been a while, but if you can't remember what a date is,
then we've got problems."
"No. No date. Asha just came over last night to help me with some stuff."
"Ah." Alec lifted both eyebrows. His lips formed the trademark smirk Logan had
come to be accustomed with. "So the fancy pre-Pulse wine I found half-full on the
countertop must have been to help you guys concentrate on your...computer stuff."
"Alec, nothing-"
"Hey, I'm happy for you. Every man needs to get some every now and then.
Sexual deprivation's not healthy."
"Asha and I did *not*-"
" 'Course I can't say the same for Max-about bein' happy for you, I mean-because
I can't exactly see her gettin' all giddy thinking about you doing the nasty with Asha." he
continued, oblivious to Logan's fervent objection. "In fact, she'll probably rip off your
leg...the third one, not the prosthetic ones...and beat you over the head with it."
"Max broke up with me. It was her choice." Logan replied quietly, abandoning
his earlier protest.
Alec shrugged. "Doesn't mean she's not still in love with you." The coffee mug
ascended to his lips.
*Sure. That's why you spent the night at her apartment. Because she's still in love
with me.* he thought bitterly.
"Did you need something?" Logan asked. Tension laced his words.
Alec raised an eyebrow. "You're just radiating the warm fuzzies today, Logan.
Can't I stop by to visit a friend?"
"I'm kind of busy. Got a lot of work to be doing."
"That's ok. I can just watch TV or something."
Is the man really this stupid, or just ignorant of everyone's feelings?
"Alec, I really need to finish this. The TV will distract me, and I need to
concentrate. If there's something you need, fine. If not, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave."
The words slipped from between clenched teeth, not without some difficulty on the
speaker's part.
Another sip parted the X-5's full lips.
"Max is still in love with you. You know that, right Logan?" he asked, and as the
older man swiveled to face him, Alec looked almost pensive.
"Are you trying to reassure me?"
"Just stating a fact. Do I look like the type of guy who goes around spouting
feel-good head-shrinker crap to make people feel better?"
The slightest of smiles twitched at Logan's mouth, before he shook his head and
turned once more to his computer.
Silence drifted over both men; a softly wandering veil of utter stillness. Alec
finished his coffee and placed the mug on the countertop beside him. "You don't mind if
I take a peek in your cupboards, do you, Log? Mac and cheese at Joshua's was fine for
the first week; gets a little tiring after that."
"Help yourself." Logan murmured, engrossed in the machine before him.
The search turned up a package of Oreos; Alec clutched it possessively to his
chest and strode back into the living room, paused mid-step by the abrupt shrill of his cell
phone.
He drew it out, and clicked on. "Yeah? Oh, hey Max."
Logan's shoulders tightened automatically.
The transgenic's voice softened. "Max, what's wrong? Why aren't you at
work?" A pause, to encompass her reply. "You ok? They didn't touch you?" His brow
rippled into lines of concern.
"What's going on?" Logan demanded.
Alec raised an index finger to him.
"I'll be right there."
He turned, pocketing the phone. "Problems. Some kid, transgenic,got killed by a
mob. Max saw it on her way to deliver a package. She tried to stop it, but it was too late.
Kid died a few seconds after she got there. Logan..." Alec paused. "You know how she
gets. How she feels responsible for all the freaks that escaped Manticore when she
torched the place. She's going to take this kid's death real hard. Maybe you should-"
"I'll drive you."
She wore the glossy sheen of rainwater thick upon her body. The payphone she'd
called from still at her back, lending the strength which had deserted her.
Alec leapt from the van before it had coasted to a complete stop.
He came to her without words, shrugging free of his jacket even as he crossed the
muddy street to her pitiful shelter.
Coarse jean descended on her sagging shoulders; she clutched this offering tight
around her drenched figure, looking up at him through moist lashes. Full lips trembled
with heartbreaking severity.
"I'm sorry, Max." Alec whispered, and his voice held such honesty, such as she
rarely heard from him, that it brought new pain to her torn and bleeding spirit.
"I should have done more to save him. He was just a kid. They killed him. Just
because he was transgenic." She looked into the distance. "We can't live with them;
they're never going to understand us. And things like this will keep happening, because
they're afraid of us. Because we're different." Her throat constricted painfully. "Norms
don't accept different."
He said nothing.
Her eyes drifted again to his own. "I let us all out in the world. For what? Just to
have the transgenics murdered by hatred and fear?"
"You set us free, Max."
"Manticore did some pretty shitty stuff; that's why I got my ass the hell out of
there. But they had their reasons, sick and sadistic as they were. This...this had no
reason. Just a bunch of damn street thugs who thought beatin' a tranny to death would be
good for a few laughs."
"Max-"
She interrupted him, now with tears hazing her eyes. "They cut open his
stomach; his intestines were hanging out all over the street. And his face...I could barely
see it through all the blood. He probably wasn't even fourteen; didn't even get a chance
to make his mark in the world." A single droplet of water trembled from dark lashes, and
slid down her face.
Alec pulled her firmly into his arms.
She acquiesced without resistance, and they held one another beneath the
tumultuous skies, the scent of blood still thick upon the air. The first seeds of friendship
and tolerance, planted by her confession of Ben's death, took root.
And from the driver's seat of his van, Logan Cale watched this. Rain lightly
steamed the windows, casting their figures in an ethereal sort of haze. He swiped a finger
numbly across cool glass.
Under the slight pressure of his seatbelt, he felt tightness within his chest, and the
growing heaviness of his heart.
Disclaimer: Dark Angel and all things associated with it belong to Fox; I own nothing. Don't bother suing me; I'm broke like you wouldn't believe, so you're not going to get much.
Chapter One
____________________________________________________________________________
Hatred
Streets
Seattle Wa., September 3rd, 2021
He lay contemplating his innards with a curious sort of detachment. Fingers slick
with the gore spilled from his own body, crimson thick upon them even as the tempest
raging overhead sought to purify flesh.
They came for him in an ever-tightening circle, swinging chains, and 2-by-4's, his
most violent tormentor still clutching the knife that had opened his gut.
A blow aimed at his ribs curled the boy into fetal position.
Animosity hung thick within the taut atmosphere; he felt its presence all around.
In the roughness of their eyes, and the hard-featured planes of faces twisted in loathing.
"Fuckin' tranny." Disgust rang clear in the words.
And the beatings resumed, more furious than before, fueled by their growing
anger. He spasmed beneath each blow, fresh blood spreading across the pavement.
Vomit seared his throat; the boy turned to empty the remnants of his last meal
onto the street. The foam of blood bubbled on his cracked lips. He swiped a grimy
sleeve over his mouth.
The rain cooled errant rivers of bodily fluids with a light hiss of protest at such
grisly work. He watched the blood stream in ribbons from his shattered body, blurred
into incongruous lines by hazy vision.
Another surge of blood frothed to his mouth; he spat it toward the body nearest
him.
A devastating blow to the head rewarded his final show of defiance.
The boy welcomed the coming darkness.
He felt the chill of Death's touch all through him, his waning hearing picking up
on sudden angry shouts in those final moments before his spirit rose. The mob drew
back; the boy felt their body heat dissipate into the damp surroundings.
Someone crouched beside him. The passage of gentle fingertips sent warmth
through the shroud of Death.
He smiled into the hand that cupped his cheek, and slipped quietly away.
She moved with the agility and strength present only in others of her kind. They
shrank in fear and parted before her, slack-jawed in their terror as this lithe young woman
felled his murderers right and left.
Anger burned fierce within. She felt its warmth penetrate her entire body.
Adrenaline numbed all other emotions; it's metallic sharpness danced upon her lips.
Bone crunched; Max felt it give way beneath her fist. The man before her went
down in a violent clash of rainwater and gore. She spun, and drop-kicked another in the
face.
Falling rain glanced off steel; she dodged the knife thrust toward her chest. The
follow-through carried her attacker off balance. Her heel knocked him upside the back
of the head, plunging him into churned mire.
"What the fuck are you?" one of the few left standing gasped.
"Pissed off." Max said, and blurred to meet him with a vicious backfist across
the face.
Those who could took now to the streets, running with a speed born upon terror,
moving impressively quick for norms. Only the mutilated body and young woman
remained now, curling mists working slowly to embrace the morbid scene.
She crouched slowly beside him.
Max stroked sodden hair from the boy's forehead. Beneath the rivulets of blood,
she glimpsed his youthful features, and the quiet serenity of his pale face.
Bitterness surged hot in her breast. *He shouldn't have died. Not like this. He's
just a kid.* The young man's body spoke of one no more than thirteen, perhaps fourteen
years of age. But so badly had it been mangled by the mob's cruel beatings, little more of
his identity could be guessed.
Another glance roused tears from beyond her rain-dampened lashes.
*I'm sorry I couldn't save you.*
The rain slowed in tempo, almost as though it wished to respect the dead, pooling
slowly around the bike she'd hastily abandoned a few feet away.
In the distance, the keening shriek of sirens began.
Only the tacking of computer keys permeated the early-morning serenity. The air
carried the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and memories of Asha's
shampoo-honeysuckle and roses-hung thick.
Logan reached for the mug beside him and scrolled the page with his free hand.
Hot liquid carved a burning path to his stomach.
He nudged his slightly askew glances with one finger.
The door exploded open.
At one time, he'd have instantly assumed it was Max who made so flamboyant an
entrance. But since the breakup, she'd neglected to contact him unless the situation
desperately called for such a measure. Now only one remained who would barge so
boldly into his apartment.
The X-5's insistent whistling grated instantly on his nerves.
He'd never been particularly fond of the irritating, egotistic transgenic; but there
had been tolerance. Now, after learning of Alec's part in Logan and Max's split, his
feelings had begun to progress with more hostility.
"Hey, Logan."
"Alec." Logan barely turned his head to acknowledge the younger man.
Alec headed into the kitchen, drawn by the tempting fragrance of caffeine.
Apparently he'd failed to notice the less-than-welcoming aura emanating from the
apartment's owner, but then Logan had come to learn that subtlety was lost upon the
man.
*Help yourself.* Logan thought wryly, shaking his head.
He turned back to his work, reaching again for his coffee.
"Eyes-Only have a date last night?"
Logan glanced up to find the transgenic lounging against the wall of the kitchen
entrance, coffee pot in hand, pouring himself a cup.
"Date?"
"Yeah, you know; where two members of the opposite sex-sometimes same sex,
depends on your preference-get together and play around." He set the coffee pot aside on
the table. "Logan, pal, I know it's been a while, but if you can't remember what a date is,
then we've got problems."
"No. No date. Asha just came over last night to help me with some stuff."
"Ah." Alec lifted both eyebrows. His lips formed the trademark smirk Logan had
come to be accustomed with. "So the fancy pre-Pulse wine I found half-full on the
countertop must have been to help you guys concentrate on your...computer stuff."
"Alec, nothing-"
"Hey, I'm happy for you. Every man needs to get some every now and then.
Sexual deprivation's not healthy."
"Asha and I did *not*-"
" 'Course I can't say the same for Max-about bein' happy for you, I mean-because
I can't exactly see her gettin' all giddy thinking about you doing the nasty with Asha." he
continued, oblivious to Logan's fervent objection. "In fact, she'll probably rip off your
leg...the third one, not the prosthetic ones...and beat you over the head with it."
"Max broke up with me. It was her choice." Logan replied quietly, abandoning
his earlier protest.
Alec shrugged. "Doesn't mean she's not still in love with you." The coffee mug
ascended to his lips.
*Sure. That's why you spent the night at her apartment. Because she's still in love
with me.* he thought bitterly.
"Did you need something?" Logan asked. Tension laced his words.
Alec raised an eyebrow. "You're just radiating the warm fuzzies today, Logan.
Can't I stop by to visit a friend?"
"I'm kind of busy. Got a lot of work to be doing."
"That's ok. I can just watch TV or something."
Is the man really this stupid, or just ignorant of everyone's feelings?
"Alec, I really need to finish this. The TV will distract me, and I need to
concentrate. If there's something you need, fine. If not, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave."
The words slipped from between clenched teeth, not without some difficulty on the
speaker's part.
Another sip parted the X-5's full lips.
"Max is still in love with you. You know that, right Logan?" he asked, and as the
older man swiveled to face him, Alec looked almost pensive.
"Are you trying to reassure me?"
"Just stating a fact. Do I look like the type of guy who goes around spouting
feel-good head-shrinker crap to make people feel better?"
The slightest of smiles twitched at Logan's mouth, before he shook his head and
turned once more to his computer.
Silence drifted over both men; a softly wandering veil of utter stillness. Alec
finished his coffee and placed the mug on the countertop beside him. "You don't mind if
I take a peek in your cupboards, do you, Log? Mac and cheese at Joshua's was fine for
the first week; gets a little tiring after that."
"Help yourself." Logan murmured, engrossed in the machine before him.
The search turned up a package of Oreos; Alec clutched it possessively to his
chest and strode back into the living room, paused mid-step by the abrupt shrill of his cell
phone.
He drew it out, and clicked on. "Yeah? Oh, hey Max."
Logan's shoulders tightened automatically.
The transgenic's voice softened. "Max, what's wrong? Why aren't you at
work?" A pause, to encompass her reply. "You ok? They didn't touch you?" His brow
rippled into lines of concern.
"What's going on?" Logan demanded.
Alec raised an index finger to him.
"I'll be right there."
He turned, pocketing the phone. "Problems. Some kid, transgenic,got killed by a
mob. Max saw it on her way to deliver a package. She tried to stop it, but it was too late.
Kid died a few seconds after she got there. Logan..." Alec paused. "You know how she
gets. How she feels responsible for all the freaks that escaped Manticore when she
torched the place. She's going to take this kid's death real hard. Maybe you should-"
"I'll drive you."
She wore the glossy sheen of rainwater thick upon her body. The payphone she'd
called from still at her back, lending the strength which had deserted her.
Alec leapt from the van before it had coasted to a complete stop.
He came to her without words, shrugging free of his jacket even as he crossed the
muddy street to her pitiful shelter.
Coarse jean descended on her sagging shoulders; she clutched this offering tight
around her drenched figure, looking up at him through moist lashes. Full lips trembled
with heartbreaking severity.
"I'm sorry, Max." Alec whispered, and his voice held such honesty, such as she
rarely heard from him, that it brought new pain to her torn and bleeding spirit.
"I should have done more to save him. He was just a kid. They killed him. Just
because he was transgenic." She looked into the distance. "We can't live with them;
they're never going to understand us. And things like this will keep happening, because
they're afraid of us. Because we're different." Her throat constricted painfully. "Norms
don't accept different."
He said nothing.
Her eyes drifted again to his own. "I let us all out in the world. For what? Just to
have the transgenics murdered by hatred and fear?"
"You set us free, Max."
"Manticore did some pretty shitty stuff; that's why I got my ass the hell out of
there. But they had their reasons, sick and sadistic as they were. This...this had no
reason. Just a bunch of damn street thugs who thought beatin' a tranny to death would be
good for a few laughs."
"Max-"
She interrupted him, now with tears hazing her eyes. "They cut open his
stomach; his intestines were hanging out all over the street. And his face...I could barely
see it through all the blood. He probably wasn't even fourteen; didn't even get a chance
to make his mark in the world." A single droplet of water trembled from dark lashes, and
slid down her face.
Alec pulled her firmly into his arms.
She acquiesced without resistance, and they held one another beneath the
tumultuous skies, the scent of blood still thick upon the air. The first seeds of friendship
and tolerance, planted by her confession of Ben's death, took root.
And from the driver's seat of his van, Logan Cale watched this. Rain lightly
steamed the windows, casting their figures in an ethereal sort of haze. He swiped a finger
numbly across cool glass.
Under the slight pressure of his seatbelt, he felt tightness within his chest, and the
growing heaviness of his heart.