Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story that appear in the hit syndicated TV show, Dark Angel, owned and created by James Cameron. I do, however, own any and all original characters that appear in this work of fan fiction.

The Siege

By

Brin

"The only person you can rely on, Max, is yourself. Everything else is just a lie. It's phony sentimentality and it will get you killed." –Zack

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It's strange to have my siblings back. I mean… I spent my whole life outside Manticore looking for them and now that they're here… I don't know what to do with myself, really. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure it's real. That they're real. And the hard part… the really difficult part to deal with is… now that they're inside Terminal City with the motley bunch of us, there's a chance they'll die too… and not for the first time in my life, it'll be on account of me.

Chapter 2: Toxic

Tensions were high in Terminal City the next day. Security of the perimeter had been increased nearly tenfold, or at least that's what they gathered from news reports and the fleeting video clips of the outside. Simple logic said that if Max and a few kids could get out, then the lot of them could as well—but things never worked out that way. With hundreds and hundreds of transgenics holed inside the city, it would be impossible to get more than half of them out before the alarm was raised and the bulk of the United States military came crashing down on them. The death toll would be frighteningly high and unneeded, and Max didn't want that. She thoroughly stomped any suggestions to just storm the barricade. Her ending argument was this: Where would they go one they were out? And it worked on most everyone, save, of course, good ol' grumpy Mole.

"We're all going to go crazy in here," yelled Mole angrily, his face a mere inches away from Max's. His stump of a cigar was so close to her face that she could feel the heat of it on her skin. "The pressure is enough to break an X7!"

"Look, Mole, the best thing we can do right now is find something constructive to do with our time, like maybe clean this place up?" She made a broad, open-palmed gesture to their current living conditions. Broken glass, bent metal, shards of wood, and general trash covered nearly everything. "Terminal City is a twenty-block area. There has got to be mountains of useful stuff left behind. We should send out foragers," she suggested flatly.

Mole sighed and spat the cigar out, glaring at the tobacco trail left as it bounced across the floor. "Fine then. I'll do something 'constructive with my time,'" he grumbled sourly. "Shooting a damn Ordinary seems more constructive to me."

Max shook her head as she watched him stalk away. She had come to a belief that Mole was a borderline schizophrenic, one moment acting like he wanted to be some big, heroic leader and the next becoming a bloodthirsty monster with no patience to think anything out. He was going to do something stupid one day, she could just feel it.

"Some of them never learn," commented Alec nonchalantly. He had watched the entire exchange from a ratty couch a few feet away. "You should keep an eye on him."

"Always do," she replied as she collapsed onto the couch next to him. "He's going to get himself killed."

"Naw, don't be like that, Max," said the male X5, a broad grin stretching his face as he patted her hand patronizingly. "You should wait to kill him when no one is paying attention."

Max looked like she was going to hit him, but instead broke down and began laughing softly. "Ass," she murmured half-seriously.

"Look, you need to relax. We're going to be here awhile," he added in a matter-of-factly tone.

"And I think I'm about ready to hunt down this Sandeman guy and kill him myself for bringing this down on our heads… that is, if he's still alive," she seethed.

Alec chuckled. "Ah, it'll be okay. You'll see. You're Max. Nothing gets by you." When she still didn't smile, he continued, "Girls kick ass. Says so on a t-shirt, right?"

The female X5 provided him with a tiny grin. No matter how much she didn't want to admit it, Alec was starting to seem rather… charming. Maybe it was just the tension…  She blinked. "Alec, I need you to do something for me," she announced.

"Anything… unless it's jumping up and down, flapping my arms and clucking like a chicken, 'cause you know I have a reputation to keep up," he replied with a characteristic wink.

Max laughed out loud in spite of herself. "Ass. It's a little bit more serious than that. I want you to go down to the X camp and talk to them. Try to warm them up to uniting all the transgenics instead of this great big wedge we have between 'nomlies and X series. We can't win this without everyone pitching in, you know that. I need you to do this for me; I can't trust anyone else with it."

Alec rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. She trusted him with this? That was a new development… and, as much as he'd rather not admit it, it felt good. He grinned and placed a hand on her shoulder as he answered, "Alright, but I'll need some kind of reward when I come back. A whole camp of Xs… kinda dangerous."

"Yeah, because you wouldn't want to get your ass kicked again, would you?" She punched him on the shoulder, her demeanor suddenly becoming playful.

"I did not get my ass kicked! I told you guys, I was simply setting that Familiar girl up so that Logan could come to the rescue. Wonder boy always comes to the rescue, dontcha know," mused Alec with a wink. "Wouldn't want to tarnish his record, now would I?"

Max smiled. "So I can count on you to not botch things up?"

"Always, Max. Why do you even have to ask?" he joked, putting on a feigned hurt face.

"Thank you, Alec… and here." She handed him some handcuffs. "Just in case you need them while you're over there."

Alec raised an eyebrow as he pocketed the cuffs. "Now why might a pretty girl like yourself being carrying around a pair of these?" he drawled in a country accent.

Max's eyes widened in shock and she thwapped him on the head. "Hey!"

"Ah! Ah! Save me!" cried the young man, ducking as she tried to hit him again. "Just a thought."

Max glared at him half-seriously, then softened and placed her hand on his forearm. "Good luck, Mr. Ambassador."

Alec chuckled in spite of himself as he replied, "Thanks. I'll need it."

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"Security has been tightened around the perimeter of Terminal City today after four transgenics rescued their five captured comrades from the temporary prison they had been held in. The police barricades have been placed back ten meters and even the press is not allowed closer than thirty meters from the edge of the perimeter. This action, however, has done nothing to suppress the protestors. In fact, it seems that the crowd has grown in the past few hours, the people angry that these transgenics slipped through so easily. Many of them have been saying that if action is not taken soon, the citizens of Seattle will have to take matters into their own hands."

Eddie, Pick, Hank, Junky, Axle, and about thirty other transgenics sat staring at the news reporter, Jan Corrigan, who had become their sole source of information about the world outside Terminal City. She was a familiar sight, with her too-red lipstick and uppity hairdo, and, though she was an Ordinary, the transgenics felt an inexplicable sense of camaraderie for the woman. Today she was interviewing a 'scientist' who had allegedly 'analyzed' the transgenics.

"So, Dr. Vantriez, tell me about what you have discovered," Jan said to the mousy-looking man sitting across from her.

"I have done extensive research, including gathering information from old Manticore associates," he replied slowly. "Through that process, I have been able to classify the different types of transgenics Manticore managed to create." He gestured a large piece of cardboard with different pictures pasted to the front, his pointer resting on a portrait of…

"Eddie, that's you!" exclaimed Hank, looking over at the girl, who was nestled in Pick's arms like a kitten.

Eddie's jaw went slack. It was a picture of her just a week before Manticore burned. She had just come in from an experimental training mission. Her hair was disheveled, a smear of blood across her cheek. Her cat eyes reflected the flash of the camera, making her entire eye seem an eerie blue-green color.

"This specimen can be referred to as an anomaly," continued Dr. Vantriez with a sniffle. "The definition for 'anomaly' in the dictionary is 'one that is peculiar, abnormal, irregular, or difficult to classify.' This describes these creatures perfectly. As you can see here, this female anomaly's features are based on that of a humans—the locations of the eyes, nose, mouth, and ears are correct—but the shapes are much different. Notice the vertical pupils, pointed ears, and angled facial contours.

"These anomalies are the disgrace of Manticore; the failures. They are like horrific scars on Manticore's records and most were kept hidden deep inside the basement. We have come across models that are meant to look the way they do for military reasons, such as camouflage. Yet the lot of them are deformed and useless beings that Manticore kept only to perform experiments on."

Pick tightened his hold around Eddie's waist as the girl began to shiver in his arms. "It's okay," he whispered in her ear. "That tight ass doesn't know anything. Don't listen to him. He's just saying what the public wants to hear." He affectionately brushed a thumb across her cheek and kissed her head.

"Tell us about the infamous Xs. They've developed quite a reputation around Seattle as sort of divine beings; superior to humans in all ways."

Dr. Vantriez pointed to a picture of an X6. "The X series are Manticore's most deadly units. They are trained as soldiers from day one. Each different X version was given a fraction of DNA from a different animal. I have concluded that the X5s were cats, X6s dogs, and the X7s bats and various hive-minded creatures. Evidence shows that they may have developed up to X9s, but for sure they have X8s, which are no more than children right now. The thing about these Xs is that they are indiscernible from humans and could be your next-door neighbors for all we know.

"Also, because I think the public should know, before the facility was destroyed ten months ago, Manticore began a breeding program to create new DNA for their latest X-series. Data recovered from the base provides an estimate of over one hundred transgenic babies born so far. These things are breeding, and there is nothing we can do to stop them. Military analysts believe that reproduction is most likely a battle strategy for them; they are increasing their numbers to better launch an assault or to weaken the enemy resolve. It's all about war for these creatures."

"Sniveling, inbred coward," muttered Hank angrily. "I'd like to show him a bit of war."

"Breeding these creatures is like trying to hybrid hybrids. We have no idea what the children will look like. They could, quite possibly, be hideous creatures of immeasurable power. The risk is even higher if we have anomalies and Xs mixing… the spawn of these two could have three arms or a tail! Even on a scientific level, it doesn't make any sense. Having anomalies and Xs mixing is akin to trying to cross a cat and a dog. It just isn't what nature intended."

"So you don't know exactly what to expect?" Jan tapped a pencil against her chin.

She looked genuinely intrigued with what the doctor was saying, and that made the transgenics' hearts sink a little. If their fearless reporter Jan Corrigan herself was actually eating up all this jaded information, the public would be studying it like scripture—and that was bad. Everything on the television these days was filtered and buffered by the government. The truth, it seemed, was easy enough for them to squash and erase.

Dr. Vantriez sat back in his chair, his flabby stomach straining against his white Oxford shirt. "All I have to say is that these things are quite possibly the most deadly, disgusting, and horrific creatures on the Earth. We must get rid of them, whatever the cost."

"That's it." Axle turned off the TV with a slam of his hand. "I think we've seen enough for today." He ran a hand through his unruly mane and took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

The others nodded their silent agreement and dispersed to think about what they just saw. As if they didn't have enough on their minds already. Now some rodent-esque scientist was feeding the fire of public rage. He was encouraging the genocide of the transgenics. Hopelessness was settling in.

Hank patted Axle's shoulder in a brotherly manner. "You okay, man?" he asked quietly. "You know that guy's an asshole. Just let it go. We've all got to forget about it."

"But what if he's right?" muttered Axle before stalking away, his broad frame slouching with disappointment. He understood that the scientist was an asshole, but Hank didn't know what it was like to be a 'nomlie.

"It's sick, what they do," growled a transgenic with white skin and hair, fanning himself with a piece of paper. Arctic Ops. "I'd like to get my hands on one of them Ordinaries and see how much he has to say when I rip his teeth out. How much talk will be left in 'em then?"

Several other transgenics murmured their agreement.

"Hey!" yelled Pick, getting the Arctic transgenic's attention. "None of that," he insisted.

"How'd he find all that out?" a rat-like anomaly asked, whiskers twitching. "There's no way anyone would let out about Manticore, even though it's gone." He idly scratched his abnormally large ear.

"Probably used to be a backup scientist or someone on the outside," replied Pick without conviction. "Either that, or one of the old employees doesn't have a problem with being chopped into little pieces by Manticore 'associates' for ratting on them." He looked at the rat anomaly and grinned in spite of himself. "No offense."

"None taken."

Eddie clung to Pick's arm, her tail swishing back and forth languidly. Insecurity was written all of her face. Sticks and stones may break bones, but words were starting to hurt in this siege of the mind. She whispered, "You think it's true what they said?"

"What?" asked Pick, swinging his eyes around to his feline-faced partner.

"About the Xs and anomalies? About them being together?" she elaborated. Her eyes turned to the floor.

"Don't worry about it, baby," he said softly. He stroked her arm affectionately and placed a warm kiss to her full lips. "That asshole doesn't know shit."

They looked up as Max trotted towards them with a gentle smile upon her attractive face. "Hey, guys," she greeted quietly. "I never got the chance to say thanks for helping me out yesterday. So… thanks. You don't know how much it meant to me."

Pick grinned in return. "Glad for a little action." He mimicked a gun with his hand and mouthed, "Pow!"

Max swung her gaze between Pick to Eddie curiously. "If you don't mind me asking… are you two…?" She raised an eyebrow. "Together?"

"Yes, we are," replied Pick proudly, accentuating his point by kissing Eddie's temple. "Why do you ask?"

The X5 shrugged as she answered, "I just need to know these details. It's a girl thing." She laughed lightly. Though she had never before seen an X and 'nomlie in an intimate relationship, the two teens were without a doubt mad about each other, which was always good to see. They were a… cute couple. The X5 shook her head slightly; never thought she'd say that about a 'nomlie.

"What about you and Alec?" teased Eddie with a playful grin. "I saw you two talking earlier… winking, smiling, flirting. The sparks were flying."

Max's eyes widened. "Me and Alec? No! Where did you get that idea? No! Absolutely not!" she insisted, her cheeks flushing pink. Suddenly her tongue didn't work and her brain wasn't cooperating. At the incredulous expressions she received from the two teenagers, the X5 mumbled, "Well, maybe we're attracted to each other, but we'd never… it's just…" She groaned and threw her hands up in frustration. "Never mind. We're just… not like that."

Eddie and Pick's laughter followed the X5 as she hurried away, her face turning from pink to red at an alarming rate.

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Alec unhurriedly approached the crumbling hotel that housed the majority of the X series in Terminal City. After a quick check of his hidden weapons, the X5 ascended the two or three steps of the stoop and dutifully knocked the door. Several seconds later, the door jerked open a few inches and two dark blue eyes peered out at him suspiciously. "What do you want?" asked a high-pitched, albeit acidic, voice.

"The name's Alec, though some may know me as X5-494," announced Alec, holding up his hands as a sign of peace. "I need to speak with the X leader here." He grinned and continued, in a mockingly robotic voice, "Bring me to your leader."

"What business do you have with him?" asked the door guard, all business.

"I have been instructed by Max Guevara, possibly known as X5-452, the leader of Terminal City, to give him an important message. I come bearing gifts," he replied as he pulled an empty candy wrapper from his pocket. "Please accept, young Padawan."

"There is no distinct leader of Terminal City, sir," spat the guard in a matter-of-factly-tone. "I can deliver the message for you." He didn't seem at all amused by Alec's antics.

Alec placed his foot in the door. "Unless you want me to call 452 down here, I suggest you let me inside. Peace man, peace." He held up two fingers.

There was a long silence before the door was reluctantly opened. Alec looked down at the young X8, who was glaring up at him threateningly. "Follow me," the kid instructed before turning and walking away.

"Kids today," mumbled the X5. "No respect."

The X8 continued to glare at him as he led Alec through a dark, broken hallway. They went up two flights of stairs to the third floor, where the X5 was surprised to Xs of every generation filling the corridor. As he and the small X8 walked down the passage, the Xs shot them curious glances, but didn't really pay much attention. Alec turned his eyes away from the grimy faces and tattered clothing. He felt more than a little shameful in his shiny leather jacket and designer jeans.

After a few more twists and turns and even some dirty looks, they came to a door that seemed in better condition than the rest. "This is the place," announced the younger X. "I must return to my post." With that, he swung on his heel and marched away.

"That kid has got to take a vacation," mumbled Alec as he opened the door. Inside, he found a relatively clean room; the floor was swept of debris and someone had attempted to cover the cracks in the walls by hanging some grimy paintings. For furniture, there was a rusting steel bed with a molded mattress and rotting desk. Sitting at the desk was a young man about Alec's age with golden hair and sharp green eyes.

"What do you want," he greeted impassively.

Alec took a few steps forward, his arms again raised as a gesture of peace. "I'm X5-494, sent by X5-452. I deliver a request of unity between the transgenics; the Xs and the anomalies most of all."

"Unity? Please. This isn't a Miss America Pageant, 494."

"Look, the Ordinaries are getting real impatient out there and sooner or later they're gonna snap and burn this place to the ground. Do you want that?" Alec reasoned with a frown. He pointed an accusing finger at the X. "You're digging your own grave here. What's that saying? United we stand, divided we fall. Hm? Remember that from Americana 101?"

"We Xs can take care of ourselves. The anomalies are the ones who the public hate, not us. You should know that very well, 494. After all, I can only assume you've spent some time with them."

"Okay, buddy, I don't have all day…"

"Call me 205."

Alec idly noted that 205 was one of the '09 Manticore escapees, but thought nothing more of it. "Okay, 205, I don't like your attitude about this whole thing, so I'm going to give you once last chance: You convince your X's to join the 'nomlies and I won't humiliate you by beating your ass into the concrete."

205 scoffed and sat forward in his ruined leather chair. "You are going to beat my ass into the concrete? That's a little dramatic, isn't it 494? Them's fighting words."

Alec stood up straight and adjusted the collar of his jacket, mentally preparing himself. "I'm serious about this, man. I'm not going to waste my time preaching to you. Yes or no."

The other X5 narrowed his piercing eyes. "No. The anomalies aren't our responsibility. Back off."

"Fine. Then I'll just have to kick your ass from your throne right here." Alec bent his knees and put his weight on the balls of his feet. "You wanted this the hard way."

"Are you challenging me, 494?" 205 asked in a bored tone. "I've already established my place as CO of the Xs here. You won't beat me."

"Heard it a million times, buddy," growled Alec. He rolled his shoulders and clenched his fists. Here goes nothing, he thought.

205 rose from his seat and tossed the desk away like a twig. It exploded into shards of wood against the wall, busting a good-sized hole in the sheetrock. "Okay then. I've been waiting for some action around here."

They jumped at each other. In midair, Alec twisted around to avoid 205's flying fist, only to receive a kick to the head. He lashed out with his own leg as his body jerked toward the ground, catching 205 in the neck with the toe of his shoe. This all happened in about half a second, and the two men were practically blown apart by the impacts. 205 landed on the brass bed and Alec hit the floor with his shoulders, a grunt of pain leaving him as his neck folded unnaturally against the floor. The two men simultaneously leapt to their feet. 205 kicked out, but Alec caught his foot and twisted, forcing 205 to do a spin midair. On the ground, 205 kicked Alec's legs out from under him. Alec hit the ground face-first, his face stinging as the wood floor crunched under the impact.

"Now that… was not nice," growled Alec, brushing the splinters of wood from his face. "Don't mess with the face, man."

205 caught him in the chin with his foot, flipping Alec onto his back with a dull 'thud'. In a swift movement, he bent the steel bed over Alec as a makeshift cage. "Looks like you're caught," he sneered."

Alec glared up at him through the bars. "Cheater."

"Define fair."

"This!" Alec pulled his legs back and kicked with all his might. The cage rolled off of him and knocked over 205, pinning him to the ground by the legs and eliminating that form of escape for the X5.

"This won't hold me for long!" growled 205 as he attempted to wriggle his way free.

"Yeah, well I still beat you." Alec pulled out the handcuffs and attached 205's wrists to the frame at an odd, uncomfortable angle. "So there."

"I can call for help," reasoned 205, though his resolve was slipping by now. At the strange angle, it would take a lot of effort to pull himself free.

"I'm not finished," taunted Alec with a cunning grin. He pulled from his jacket pocket a roll of duct tape. "For you, milady." Enjoying himself immensely, the X5 stuffed a wad of tape into the X5's mouth, then taped his lips shut. "Don't you just hate how things work out like this?"

205 glared at him and shouted something through the tape. It sounded vaguely like he was calling Alec a son of a bitch, but it was hard to tell.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'll just be off convincing 'your' Xs that their CO is a dumbass and they should join with me. Have a nice day."

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Meanwhile, Max was busily scribbling down what she needed Mole to find in the abandoned city. The paper she had found in a trash pile, and it suspiciously smelled of macaroni and cheese. The female X5 froze as she heard someone approach from behind. Taking a deep breath, the young woman tense her muscles, whirled around and raised her fist, ready to strike.

"Whoa! Calm down!" yelped Logan, backing away.

"Logan! Goddamn it, don't do that! What the hell are you thinking, sneaking up on people like that? I could've hit you!" Max exclaimed with a bit more anger than she had intended.

Logan turned his blue eyes to the ground. "Yeah… sorry. I wasn't thinking," he said quietly.

Max sighed and ran her fingers through her long hair. She was in dire need of a cut; her split ends were starting to form spit ends. With a shake of her head, she returned to the task at hand: "Logan, this place doesn't have miracle doctors or what the best medical equipment in the country like Shankar and Carr. If I touched you… You would die. And it'd be my fault, Logan. Mine."

"At least… I'd die a happy man," he replied softly.

The X5 took a tentative step back from him. She didn't particularly enjoy these hurtful conversations with him, but she was definitely being pulled into one. "Logan…"

"Max, no matter what happens, what you say, or what others say… I will never stop loving you. I guess you have that affect on lots of guys… Zack… me." He gave her with a rueful smile. "I just hope you are happy with the one you choose, whomever it may be… and he better take care of you, or he'll have hell to answer to."

"Don't do this, Logan," she whispered, her eyes downcast.

"Don't what? Don't speak the truth?" he growled. He raised a hand as if to touch her cheek, then shrank back with a defeated look on his face. "You want me to lie to you? Like you lied to me?"

Max took a moment to compose herself before replying, "No. I want you to forget about us. Until we find a cure, being together will only hurt…"

Logan, tears shining in his eyes, nodded. "I understand that. But what I said before still stands. I will never stop loving you. I may move on and take another wife, but you will always hold the better part of my heart, Maxie."

"And I hope that doesn't prevent you from finding the perfect wife and having perfect little kids," she replied with a wry grin. "You could be worlds happier without me, Logan, if you just give it a chance. I… I don't belong with you." Her chest ached with the words coming out of her mouth, but they had to be said.

The blonde man sighed and ran his fingers through his spiked hair. "Okay. Just keep telling yourself that… and if you're happy, I'll try to believe it too." He turned to walk away, passing by Dalton in the process.

"Hey, Logan, you look kinda pale," commented the young X6 without actually showing much interest in the man. "You getting sick?"

"What?" Logan faced the X6. "What did you say?"

"I said you look sick," reiterated Dalton coolly.

Max squinted at him and gulped. An irrational fear gripped her chest, that little voice at the back of her head going over the past few minutes to see if they had accidentally touched… but no, she could recall no such instances. Despite that, there was no doubt that Logan looked worse for wear. She bit her bottom lip. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," he insisted stubbornly. "Just a bit of cold."

Dalton idly handed Max the giant bag of month-old jelly beans he had been munching on and walked over to the man. With trained serenity, he checked Logan's pulse and felt his forehead. "I don't exactly have a medical degree, but I know a sick guy when I see one." He took back his jelly beans and calmly went about his business as if nothing had happened.

Weird kid, thought Max distractedly. She returned her attention to Logan and her eyes widened with realization. "The toxins. Logan, you've been here too long!" She hit herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. "I don't know why I didn't recognize it before. You've got to get out of the city!"

"Where am I gonna go, Max?!" he asked irritably. He held out his arms. "It's not like I can just stroll out there and go home!"

"Logan, you are not going to die here. Not now, not ever. I am getting you out of this place, whether you like it or not. There are still a few good souls out there. You can stay with Shankar or Sebastian or Carr… Anywhere but here," said the X5 with so much authority that Logan could do nothing but nod his head. "Now where's OC?"

"Over there," Logan pointed across the room, where Original Cindy was talking with Gem (who had suspiciously become very, very attached to the Nubian princess over the past few days) and playing with the baby.

"Alright… she looks fine… sort of… so where's Sketchy?" Max raised an eyebrow as she did a quick sweep of the area for her pothead friend. He was nowhere to be found, which could be two things: bad or worse.

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Eddie, Pick, and a few other transgenics were sitting around a table playing cards and munching on their daily rations, which included a few pieces of bread, beef jerky, and canned vegetables. It wasn't exactly gourmet, but food was food and they were soldiers—there was no room for complaints.

"Royal flush," announced Pick, triumphantly placing his cards on the rotting table. He leaned back in his seat and laced his fingers behind his head. "Read 'em and weep."

The other transgenics groaned and handed over the smashed bottle caps that they were using as a form of money around TC. The older transgenics thought it was an absurd waste of time, but teenage transgenics had already set up mini markets that sold blankets foraged from the buildings, and sometimes extra rations. Collecting and smashing the caps was a good way to pass the time.

"How about that!" Pick exclaimed proudly as he dumped his winnings into a bag.

"Better watch out Ed," piped one of the transgenics, who looked much like a normal human besides the fact that he didn't have a nose. His voice was reminiscent of when someone spoke while holding their nostrils shut, but that was only to be expected. "Your boyfriend here seems like the gambling type."

Eddie smiled toothily, fangs glinting in the odd, flickering light of torches. "Don't worry. I'll deal with that later," she answered ominously.

The gathered transgenics all echoed 'ooh' and some punched Pick on the shoulder with claims of 'It'll be okay' and 'We know you'll make it out alive.'

"Ha, ha, very funny guys," he muttered, shooting an apologetic glance to his partner.

Eddie kissed him briefly and rose with a very feline stretch, her arms extending high above her head and her back arching like no Ordinary's could. Several transgenic eyes bugged out of their sockets as her shirt rose higher, exposing taut stomach muscles, and higher… She let her arms flop to her sides and looked around the table, noticing that some of her companions were unable to meet her eyes. "Any more takers?" she asked with raised eyebrows. "No one even wants to try to kick Pick's ass?" A long, silent pause. "Okay then! I'll just be buying myself a block of Terminal City, thank you very much."

The transgenics laughed and Eddie plopped back down into her seat.

"Well, I'm broke so I'm going to go be a poor little transgenic over there," announced the one without the nose bemusedly, pushing his chair out and departing. The others followed the suit with friendly goodbyes, leaving Eddie and Pick alone.

Eddie straddled Pick's lap and gave him a light kiss. "Love you."

"Love you too," he responded with a grin. He put his hands on her hips, enjoying the feeling of the warm flesh just beneath her jeans. "How about a kiss, kitty?" Leaning forward, he caught her balmy mouth with his.

They didn't get very much time for their kiss, however, because they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat loudly.

With a curse, Pick broke away from his girlfriend's lips and shot a glare in the direction of the intruder. It was that lanky, smelly friend of Max's. What was his name? Scooter? Skeeter? The X6 sighed irritably as Eddie removed herself from his lap. "What do you want?" snapped Pick with a death glare.

Sketchy, who was staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world, turned his attention to Pick, and then glanced behind him. "Me?"

"No, the other idiot who interrupted a private moment with my girlfriend," replied the X6, rolling his eyes.

"Ha, ha, that's funny… funny guy… yeah, that's…" Sketchy cleared his throat again and strolled over to their table. "So… what's up? Doing the transgenic thing?"

Pick and Eddie stared at him. Who was this guy?

Sketchy suddenly felt very uncomfortable with this situation. He tried not to think of all the horrible things the two transgenics could do to his body in a matter seconds… rip his head off… snap his neck… He chewed on his lip a bit as he contemplated what to say next.

"You never answered my question," the X6 reminded him, his voice harsh and callous.

"I—uh…" He shook his head and decided to throw the 'casual' approach out the window and get straight to the point. Transgenics seemed to like that. At least Max did. Okay, act like they're Max, he thought to himself. With a cough, he explained, "I wanted to see if I could interview you… ya know, just in case some large, popular news station asks me about what it was like in here? I've asked everyone else, and you two seem like nice kids…"

Pick sighed and pointed to a chair across from him. "Sit," he commanded, and Sketchy sat like his legs didn't work anymore. "Talk fast."

Sketchy pulled a notepad and pencil from his pocket, reading over the questions he had scribbled down before saying, "So what's it like?"

"What's what like?" Eddie sighed in exasperation. The guy was slow, but undeniably good-natured.

"Being a transgenic; knowing that you were created in a lab."

Pick sat back in his chair and rubbed his face, occasionally glancing at Eddie, who was staring at Sketchy with a thoughtful look on her feline face. "Well…it's sort of like… It's like feeling normal, thinking normal, and for some of us even looking normal, but never actually being normal. We love, we hate. We live, we die. We have families, we have friends. The only thing that sets us apart is our appearance and/or the fact that we were created in test tubes."

"Uh huh…" Sketchy was scribbling things down like crazy. He gripped the pencil so tightly that his knuckles were turning whiter than usual.

"To be a transgenic is sort of a blessing and a curse at once," finished the X6 as he grasped his partner's hand.

Sketchy nodded and glanced at them, his eyes lighting up at the sight of their intertwined fingers. "Are you two together?" he asked, gesturing with his pencil.

"Yes," replied Eddie with an adoring look at her boyfriend.

"Ooh… this is good. This is real good," mumbled Sketchy, flipping through a few pages in his notebook. "So what's it like to be two young transgenics caught between a rock and a very hard place?"

Eddie rested her head on Pick's shoulder. "It's the same as if we were Ordinaries under siege. We have no clue what's going to happen, no idea if we both will live through this, and no doubt that things will get worse before they get better. I mean, it's not like just because we are transgenics that we can tell the future or anything," she answered with a shrug.

"There are a lot of questions surrounding the breeding of transgenics. Could you tell us about it?"

Pick glared at him. "First of all, we don't like it being referred to as 'breeding', 'mating', or anything like that. Second of all, I don't think the public needs me to explain where babies come from. And finally, it's no different than Ordinaries hooking up, getting married, and having families. You people need to get it through your thick heads: We are not aliens, we are not monsters, and we are not animals!" he growled, his words growing louder and angrier as they spilled from his lips.

Sketchy nodded nervously. His hands were beginning to shake now. "You know, people have a real stereotyped image of transgenics. Is there anything you'd like to say to them? Anything that is on your mind?"

The X6 let out a breath to calm himself. "Now you sound like a reporter," replied Pick composedly. He took a moment to compile the words for his response. "If I could say anything to those Ordinaries out there, I'd tell them that if they'd give us half a chance, they'd see that we're no more than they are. All we ask is a normal life… or as normal as possible. That's all we need."

"That was good. That was really good," claimed Sketchy excitedly as he stored his pad and pencil in his pockets. "Thanks, man. Everyone else tried to bite my head off when I asked, and the Sketch-meister has had his fair share of beatings."

Pick nodded his response and shook Sketchy's hand in a brotherly fashion.

"Sketchy!" bellowed a voice.

The three turned to see Max running towards them, arms waving wildly. "Sketchy, you've gotta come with me," she said, grabbing his forearm. "We have got to get you, Logan, and OC out of here ASAP."

"Why?" asked the young man, his heart dropping. "I was just making friends…"

Max started dragging him away. "Because we've kept you in here long enough. Logan is sick, OC is borderline sick, and you're probably not far behind. We're coming up with a plan to get you out of the city, okay? I really need you to cooperate with me, Sketch."

"Where am I gonna go?" he asked, eyes wide.

Max gave him a desperate expression. "You don't wanna know…"

"Why?" Sketchy stopped walking, but tumbled forward when Max pointedly jerked on his arm. "Where are you sending me?"

"There are only so many good people left in Seattle…"

"Max…"

"…and we thought you might be more comfortable with someone you know…"

"Max…"

"…so you're going to stay with Normal."

Sketchy smacked his free hand to his forehead. "No way! No way, man!"

Max stopped walking and her wrist flew back as if she was going to hit him. He immediately shrank back. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now come on, and don't complain. Normal's doing a big thing, taking you guys in." The X5 patted him on the head. "Besides, you need some bond time with the guy. That'll get his attention away from Alec."

"Not funny, Max."

But Max didn't stop laughing until they reached Logan and OC.

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