She was designed to be the perfect soldier,
but never dreamed it was for the ultimate battle…
DARK ANGEL :
REVELATIONS
"Get transgenic…"
PART ONE : " Dybbuk "
~ Seattle, AD 2022 (A little over a year after "Freak Nation") ~
The new moon left the night darker than usual, as Ames White waited below in the basement floor of Seattle's Pike Place Market. The creaking of the old boards above didn't bother him, but the other agents delay was annoying. Waiting for others was the job of lesser men. That's all right, he thought to himself, stifling his irritation. Their time will come.
"Sooner than you think," a voice called from behind him. In an instant the newcomer found himself staring at the cocked pistol in White's hand.
"Put that away," he drawled, unconcerned. "You have better things to do than shoot at shadows."
Keeping his hand at the ready, Ames holstered his gun and took a step back. The man wasn't easy to see in the tricky light, even with his enhanced eyesight.
"Let's cut to the chase," White said shortly. "The Conclave asked me to meet you here with no prior briefing. I don't like that. Why don't you begin by telling me who you are and what you want."
The stranger was beginning to make Ames uneasy, a feeling he neither liked nor was accustomed to. Usually he was the one taking pleasure in his ability to make others feel unsure. It kept them on their toes. He drilled his trainees in it constantly. Being alert is essential to not being dead.
The man in the shadows wasn't to be intimidated. "The time is drawing near; the dawning of the Conclave," he said in a soft but commanding voice. "But as you have discovered, your father and Manticore may have spawned a minor but real threat to this new era; a transgenic who's genetic structure is not only immune to the change but apparently encoded with unlimited resources."
White scowled. "452 is a problem, but given time I'm still convinced we can eliminate her. She's been extremely lucky so far, but luck only lasts so long before it runs out. She's weak and she's vulnerable. Nearly a year ago she holed herself up with most of those Manticore rejects, and from reports I've gotten she leaves the territory they call 'Terminal City' for supplies. I've been working on a plan that will bring her to us, eliminating the threat for good this time. Unfortunately our original strategy backfired due to outside interference, forced them to come together as a group. The Conclave ordered a retreat from the situation for the time being in spite of my insistence that 452 was a threat to everything."
"She is vulnerable, this is true; but she is not weak. Her strength is much like yours, from within. If you shatter her from within, you accomplish much, much more than attacking her physically."
White interrupted, "What do you want? I'm not here to discuss tactics. I'm here because of my orders."
The man smiled. "You're here because I wished it. Nothing more, nothing less. As I said, the time of dominance is nearly upon us. Millennia of planning, centuries of guiding, decades of fine tuning, all leading to this generation. The greatest hour of the Conclave is about to come into being." He stepped from the shadows, and for the first time in his life White felt something completely alien to his soul: fear. Inexplicable, irrational fear. The man before him was tall, medium build, dark haired, perhaps in his early 40s. Nothing about him seemed to explain the sudden rush of near panic that spawned to the surface of Whites' emotions. He fought to control himself, his stony, chiseled face maintaining its usual cynicism and annoyed superiority.
"I don't expect you to understand." the man said as he walked around White, appearing to be perusing him for flaws. "After all, you have enormous prejudices against the transgenics. And your father. You feel that he betrayed the Conclave and of course, in this, you are correct." He stopped in front of White, close enough for him to feel the man's breath. Even in the coldness of the air, it occurred to White that he couldn't really see the man's breath.
"In the final, ultimate battle of good and evil, neither truly exists. There is the superior and the inferior. Morals have no bearing on the survival of the fittest." He looked into White's eyes, and Ames began to see where his subconscious manifestation of fear came from. The man's eyes were nothing but pure dominance and power.
He refused to be intimidated by either his fear or this man. "What is it you want?" he spat, allowing himself to focus the emotion into anger. The man smiled quietly and leaned close enough to whisper into Ames ear. "Your soul."
The last thing White heard before blacking out completely was a loud, bellowing laughter. It was coming from his own throat.