A/N: Warning: character death ahead. This chapter is dark. Read at your own risk. Please R&R and tell me what you think, although I know you guys are probably going to hate me for what I'm about to do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel. The storyline of Dark Angel and all its characters belong to James Cameron, Charles Eglee, and Fox.
Chapter Nine
___________________________________________________________________________
Eternal Rest
Joshua's
Seattle, Wa., September 10th, 2021
Dark and light fluctuated to swallow her, burying Max within encroaching layers
of dizziness. She struggled upward, fighting her way to consciousness, the pain roaring
all throughout her body lulling her to the void between sleep and wake.
His warmth shifted beneath her just as she felt herself slipping away once more.
And her senses flared to life, with an abrupt clarity that snapped her eyes open.
She sensed weight over her hips, and craned her neck to see his arms flung
protectively across her body, the sculpted muscles gashed and bleeding from broken
glass.
"Alec." Max whispered, his name rattling inside her throat.
Silence.
She turned her body carefully against him, until they lay chest to chest. Her
fingers trembled their way to his forehead, to stroke errant hairs from soft flesh.
Her hand drew away, damp with crimson.
*Oh shit.*
A hand thrummed tentatively against his office door.
White looked up, irritated, from the papers scattered about his desk. "It's open."
he barked.
The door creaked open to encompass the figure of a dark-suited man.
"Otto." White nodded his head slightly. "Do you have anything for me?"
"Yes, sir. We have a prisoner we think might be helpful in locating 452. Picked
him up about an hour ago, at a bar."
"Excellent work." White said, rising, his work already forgotten. He smiled
coldly. "I'm sure he'll be more than willing to cooperate, if I ask nicely enough."
"C'mon, yo' dickwad. Original Cindy gonna' lay the smackdown on yo' ass if
yo' don't pick up yo' damn phone."
Alec's cell shrilled on despite her threats.
"I *know* yo' ain't sleepin', boy. Not with yo' heavenly genetically enhanced
genes an' all." the young black woman said, brows drawn in a fine line of irritation.
Finally, as the tenth ring sang its discordant tune, she hung up.
The pounding bass of Crash wafted through the doors, beckoning her back to a
night of boozing and searching for the honeys. She leaned her head against the grimy
brick exterior of the building, tucking her phone into one pocket. The driving rap beat
called to her, and yet...she couldn't go to it. Something nagged at her, a persistent feeling
hollowing her gut with an unknown concern. A sort of friend's intuition, she supposed.
*Something's wrong. An' if I find out that dickwad let somethin' happen to my
Boo, he ain't gonna be sittin' down for at least a month, and he sure as hell ain't gonna
be participatin' in no kinky activities.*
She thrust the collar of her jacket up tighter around the exposed flesh of her neck,
took a quick glance around, then trekked off into the night.
* * *
He sensed movement above him, and softness treading the curve of his
cheekbone.
His lashes fluttered, welcoming stabbing light in a cruel assault on his eyes.
A scent teased his nostrils, one he recognized as familiar but couldn't quite place.
The blinding pain battering away at his temples disoriented him to no end, driving out all
other thoughts.
"Alec. Come on, you ass." The voice lacked its usual caustic edge, instead
sounding almost concerned.
He fought his way upward through crashing waves of agony, straining to open his
eyes.
A hand descended on his cheek; he leaned into the warmth offered by this
presence.
"Wake up. Come on, Alec. Wake up."
He stirred lightly, and found the curve of a soft body pressed all against him. His
eyes shuddered open again, squinting as they peered up into her frightened gaze.
"Max?" he asked woozily, blinking.
"You ok?"
He blinked again, squinting to make out her hazy features, and flexed his body
beneath hers. "I might be better if you weren't sitting on me."
She scowled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Guess you're fine, if you're making
typical stupid comments."
Alec struggled to his elbows as she shifted into sitting position, raising one hand
to tenderly assess the damage. "Shit. I'm bleeding."
"Yeah."
"Why am I the one who always gets hurt? Why can't you be the one injured once
in a while?"
"Gee, thanks." Max replied dryly, making a face. She rolled off, freeing him to
rise. But as soon as he attempted to stand, his legs betrayed him, and the world exploded
before him in white stars. He staggered back to the floor, gasping.
She crouched beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder to stifle any movement.
"Careful. You hit your head when you went down. Give it a second before you try to
stand."
"Guess that explains the headache. Thought you'd just clubbed me over the head
with something."
"Believe me, it's not as though I haven't been tempted." she returned.
"What the hell happened?"
"I don't know. I just remember...we were talking, and there was an explosion...I
passed out for a minute or so when we went down. Don't know what the hell happen-Oh
my God." Her face paled visibly.
"Max, what's wrong?"
"Joshua." she whispered, and surged, panicked, to her feet. "Joshua!" Her voice
erupted in a yell.
"Max, be careful!" Alec hissed, thrusting himself to his feet after her, swaying
dizzily for a moment. His hands clutched automatically for the countertop, steadying his
frame before he reluctantly let go, and followed. "Max, you don't know what-"
And his throat closed suddenly, violently over at the sight of the body lying
beneath a toppled easel. The figure unmoving, a pool of blood forming beneath lacerated
clothing.
The man's face emanated a brutality that froze Sketchy's breath within his throat.
He stared upward from the cold metal table he lie strapped to, and saw only coldness in
the cruel dark eyes.
"What the hell am I doing here, man?" he croaked, still working off the
aftermath of a long night at Crash.
White smiled without humor. "I want to ask you a few questions, Mr..."
"Sketchy." the frightened drunk squeezed off around the lump in his throat. He
tugged lightly at his bonds, testing them.
"Don't bother. A healthy young male transgenic couldn't break them, much less
an incapacitated alcoholic." He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, snapping the cuffs at
his wrist. "I want some information. About 452."
"452? Who the hell is 452?" Sketchy murmured, scrunching both eyebrows. "I
don't know what you're talking about, man."
*I forgot. The fucking animal has a name now.*
"Max." White corrected himself. "I heard you're a friend of hers, and it just so
happens that I'm looking for her. If you cooperate and tell me where I can find her, I'll
let you go. If not, I have ways of making you very uncomfortable."
Sketchy swallowed hard. "I don't know where she is." he whispered.
"I don't have time for goddamn games! Tell me where she is." White spat,
jerking the man up by his shaggy hair.
"I told you, I don't know! The other day, some cops showed up at Jam Pony to
arrest her, but she got away. The only other place I know that she might be is her
apartment."
"She's not there. Where else can I find her?"
Sketchy began to tremble. "I said I don't know!"
White slammed Sketchy's head back to the table, turned, and seized something
from a nearby countertop. He held up the surgical tool for his victim to see; a long,
gleaming knife, glinting cruelly in the overhead lights. "Tell me where she is, or I start
cutting off parts of your body. One at a time, until I get what I want out of you."
"I told you I don't know! I don't know, I swear to God!"
White lowered the weapon to the man's quivering index finger.
His gore thickly coated the floor surrounding her. It splashed beneath her knees
as she sank, white-faced and trembling, to his side. Deft fingers worked swiftly to heave
aside the canvas trapping his body.
"Oh my God." Max whispered. "Oh my God. Joshua..."
Alec squatted beside her, eyes wide in a face drained of color.
"Joshua." she moaned.
The blast had torn his face to pieces, slashing bloody furrows in the forehead,
raking the broad expanse of his chest with savage claws. He lay on his back, eyes frosted
in death, lips twisted in a final cry.
"Joshua...no." she said brokenly, thrusting one hand wildly toward his throat,
feeling desperately for a pulse. Crimson fluid stained her wandering fingertips in a
horrific reminder of the grisly scene.
A hand descended gently over hers, pulling her back, away from the ravaged
destruction of her friend and into a pair of arms. She sagged weakly in Alec's embrace,
tears hazing her vision. "Who did this?" she whispered severely, voice catching on the
words. "Who the *fuck* did this?"
He kissed her fiercely on top of the head. "I'm sorry, Max. I'm so sorry." he
whispered, his own voice breaking.
And then she heard their jubilant screams, the triumphant war whoops and chants
of 'Kill the trannies.' The voices emanating from the direction of the street.
She tore ferociously from Alec's arms and flung herself through the wreckage of
glass and twisted metal, into the cold night. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain
of this abrupt movement , and leapt through after her.
They converged on the celebrating humans like a pair of rabid dogs, blurring with
superhuman speed to greet their victims.
Fists rained on flesh with every ounce of strength lent by fury to their bleeding
souls. Bone crunched; the spray of blood perfumed the night air. Joyous yells gave way
to terrified shrieks and pleas.
None escaped. They fell before the power and anger of these supersoldiers,
tumbling broken and crying to the bloody streets.
Alec smashed a knee into the groin of a man no more than twenty, keeling him
over with a groan. His hands snapped out to grasp the young man by the collar of his
jacket, and lifted him easily into the air.
"Please don't kill me!" the young man begged, panting with fear.
Alec's lashes fluttered, and his throat constricted painfully. He pictured Joshua,
his entrails dangling flaccidly from slashed flesh, life fluids churning the carpet to
scarlet. His eyes darkened; hands thrust the man's neck to an odd angle, snapping it
swiftly, mercilessly.
He loosened his grip, and the body slithered with a thud to the ground.
At his side, she swayed and went down, sobbing with a violence that twitched her
slender figure in vicious spasms. He moved to catch her, and eased them both to the
ground.
"Shh, Maxie." Alec whispered, and now he began to cry with her.
A/N 2: And there you have it. Please, no attempts on my life for killing off Joshua. That wasn't originally what was going to happen, but then the story just kind of took over. What can I say?
Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel. The storyline of Dark Angel and all its characters belong to James Cameron, Charles Eglee, and Fox.
Chapter Nine
___________________________________________________________________________
Eternal Rest
Joshua's
Seattle, Wa., September 10th, 2021
Dark and light fluctuated to swallow her, burying Max within encroaching layers
of dizziness. She struggled upward, fighting her way to consciousness, the pain roaring
all throughout her body lulling her to the void between sleep and wake.
His warmth shifted beneath her just as she felt herself slipping away once more.
And her senses flared to life, with an abrupt clarity that snapped her eyes open.
She sensed weight over her hips, and craned her neck to see his arms flung
protectively across her body, the sculpted muscles gashed and bleeding from broken
glass.
"Alec." Max whispered, his name rattling inside her throat.
Silence.
She turned her body carefully against him, until they lay chest to chest. Her
fingers trembled their way to his forehead, to stroke errant hairs from soft flesh.
Her hand drew away, damp with crimson.
*Oh shit.*
A hand thrummed tentatively against his office door.
White looked up, irritated, from the papers scattered about his desk. "It's open."
he barked.
The door creaked open to encompass the figure of a dark-suited man.
"Otto." White nodded his head slightly. "Do you have anything for me?"
"Yes, sir. We have a prisoner we think might be helpful in locating 452. Picked
him up about an hour ago, at a bar."
"Excellent work." White said, rising, his work already forgotten. He smiled
coldly. "I'm sure he'll be more than willing to cooperate, if I ask nicely enough."
"C'mon, yo' dickwad. Original Cindy gonna' lay the smackdown on yo' ass if
yo' don't pick up yo' damn phone."
Alec's cell shrilled on despite her threats.
"I *know* yo' ain't sleepin', boy. Not with yo' heavenly genetically enhanced
genes an' all." the young black woman said, brows drawn in a fine line of irritation.
Finally, as the tenth ring sang its discordant tune, she hung up.
The pounding bass of Crash wafted through the doors, beckoning her back to a
night of boozing and searching for the honeys. She leaned her head against the grimy
brick exterior of the building, tucking her phone into one pocket. The driving rap beat
called to her, and yet...she couldn't go to it. Something nagged at her, a persistent feeling
hollowing her gut with an unknown concern. A sort of friend's intuition, she supposed.
*Something's wrong. An' if I find out that dickwad let somethin' happen to my
Boo, he ain't gonna be sittin' down for at least a month, and he sure as hell ain't gonna
be participatin' in no kinky activities.*
She thrust the collar of her jacket up tighter around the exposed flesh of her neck,
took a quick glance around, then trekked off into the night.
* * *
He sensed movement above him, and softness treading the curve of his
cheekbone.
His lashes fluttered, welcoming stabbing light in a cruel assault on his eyes.
A scent teased his nostrils, one he recognized as familiar but couldn't quite place.
The blinding pain battering away at his temples disoriented him to no end, driving out all
other thoughts.
"Alec. Come on, you ass." The voice lacked its usual caustic edge, instead
sounding almost concerned.
He fought his way upward through crashing waves of agony, straining to open his
eyes.
A hand descended on his cheek; he leaned into the warmth offered by this
presence.
"Wake up. Come on, Alec. Wake up."
He stirred lightly, and found the curve of a soft body pressed all against him. His
eyes shuddered open again, squinting as they peered up into her frightened gaze.
"Max?" he asked woozily, blinking.
"You ok?"
He blinked again, squinting to make out her hazy features, and flexed his body
beneath hers. "I might be better if you weren't sitting on me."
She scowled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Guess you're fine, if you're making
typical stupid comments."
Alec struggled to his elbows as she shifted into sitting position, raising one hand
to tenderly assess the damage. "Shit. I'm bleeding."
"Yeah."
"Why am I the one who always gets hurt? Why can't you be the one injured once
in a while?"
"Gee, thanks." Max replied dryly, making a face. She rolled off, freeing him to
rise. But as soon as he attempted to stand, his legs betrayed him, and the world exploded
before him in white stars. He staggered back to the floor, gasping.
She crouched beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder to stifle any movement.
"Careful. You hit your head when you went down. Give it a second before you try to
stand."
"Guess that explains the headache. Thought you'd just clubbed me over the head
with something."
"Believe me, it's not as though I haven't been tempted." she returned.
"What the hell happened?"
"I don't know. I just remember...we were talking, and there was an explosion...I
passed out for a minute or so when we went down. Don't know what the hell happen-Oh
my God." Her face paled visibly.
"Max, what's wrong?"
"Joshua." she whispered, and surged, panicked, to her feet. "Joshua!" Her voice
erupted in a yell.
"Max, be careful!" Alec hissed, thrusting himself to his feet after her, swaying
dizzily for a moment. His hands clutched automatically for the countertop, steadying his
frame before he reluctantly let go, and followed. "Max, you don't know what-"
And his throat closed suddenly, violently over at the sight of the body lying
beneath a toppled easel. The figure unmoving, a pool of blood forming beneath lacerated
clothing.
The man's face emanated a brutality that froze Sketchy's breath within his throat.
He stared upward from the cold metal table he lie strapped to, and saw only coldness in
the cruel dark eyes.
"What the hell am I doing here, man?" he croaked, still working off the
aftermath of a long night at Crash.
White smiled without humor. "I want to ask you a few questions, Mr..."
"Sketchy." the frightened drunk squeezed off around the lump in his throat. He
tugged lightly at his bonds, testing them.
"Don't bother. A healthy young male transgenic couldn't break them, much less
an incapacitated alcoholic." He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, snapping the cuffs at
his wrist. "I want some information. About 452."
"452? Who the hell is 452?" Sketchy murmured, scrunching both eyebrows. "I
don't know what you're talking about, man."
*I forgot. The fucking animal has a name now.*
"Max." White corrected himself. "I heard you're a friend of hers, and it just so
happens that I'm looking for her. If you cooperate and tell me where I can find her, I'll
let you go. If not, I have ways of making you very uncomfortable."
Sketchy swallowed hard. "I don't know where she is." he whispered.
"I don't have time for goddamn games! Tell me where she is." White spat,
jerking the man up by his shaggy hair.
"I told you, I don't know! The other day, some cops showed up at Jam Pony to
arrest her, but she got away. The only other place I know that she might be is her
apartment."
"She's not there. Where else can I find her?"
Sketchy began to tremble. "I said I don't know!"
White slammed Sketchy's head back to the table, turned, and seized something
from a nearby countertop. He held up the surgical tool for his victim to see; a long,
gleaming knife, glinting cruelly in the overhead lights. "Tell me where she is, or I start
cutting off parts of your body. One at a time, until I get what I want out of you."
"I told you I don't know! I don't know, I swear to God!"
White lowered the weapon to the man's quivering index finger.
His gore thickly coated the floor surrounding her. It splashed beneath her knees
as she sank, white-faced and trembling, to his side. Deft fingers worked swiftly to heave
aside the canvas trapping his body.
"Oh my God." Max whispered. "Oh my God. Joshua..."
Alec squatted beside her, eyes wide in a face drained of color.
"Joshua." she moaned.
The blast had torn his face to pieces, slashing bloody furrows in the forehead,
raking the broad expanse of his chest with savage claws. He lay on his back, eyes frosted
in death, lips twisted in a final cry.
"Joshua...no." she said brokenly, thrusting one hand wildly toward his throat,
feeling desperately for a pulse. Crimson fluid stained her wandering fingertips in a
horrific reminder of the grisly scene.
A hand descended gently over hers, pulling her back, away from the ravaged
destruction of her friend and into a pair of arms. She sagged weakly in Alec's embrace,
tears hazing her vision. "Who did this?" she whispered severely, voice catching on the
words. "Who the *fuck* did this?"
He kissed her fiercely on top of the head. "I'm sorry, Max. I'm so sorry." he
whispered, his own voice breaking.
And then she heard their jubilant screams, the triumphant war whoops and chants
of 'Kill the trannies.' The voices emanating from the direction of the street.
She tore ferociously from Alec's arms and flung herself through the wreckage of
glass and twisted metal, into the cold night. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain
of this abrupt movement , and leapt through after her.
They converged on the celebrating humans like a pair of rabid dogs, blurring with
superhuman speed to greet their victims.
Fists rained on flesh with every ounce of strength lent by fury to their bleeding
souls. Bone crunched; the spray of blood perfumed the night air. Joyous yells gave way
to terrified shrieks and pleas.
None escaped. They fell before the power and anger of these supersoldiers,
tumbling broken and crying to the bloody streets.
Alec smashed a knee into the groin of a man no more than twenty, keeling him
over with a groan. His hands snapped out to grasp the young man by the collar of his
jacket, and lifted him easily into the air.
"Please don't kill me!" the young man begged, panting with fear.
Alec's lashes fluttered, and his throat constricted painfully. He pictured Joshua,
his entrails dangling flaccidly from slashed flesh, life fluids churning the carpet to
scarlet. His eyes darkened; hands thrust the man's neck to an odd angle, snapping it
swiftly, mercilessly.
He loosened his grip, and the body slithered with a thud to the ground.
At his side, she swayed and went down, sobbing with a violence that twitched her
slender figure in vicious spasms. He moved to catch her, and eased them both to the
ground.
"Shh, Maxie." Alec whispered, and now he began to cry with her.
A/N 2: And there you have it. Please, no attempts on my life for killing off Joshua. That wasn't originally what was going to happen, but then the story just kind of took over. What can I say?