Well, since some wanted it, I shall continue on with this. I quote the Pilot occasionally (okay, a lot), just because sometimes it makes sense. And I'm also borrowing Peter from the Pilot too. Hmm, shall we just say that knowing the basic facts from the Pilot would be a good thing? This will be the only chapter that follows the Pilot so closely, and I apologize for it's boringness. Excitement shall come in later chapters. But not too late.
"Bingo."
"What do you got?" Peter asked as he entered the room.
"Surveillance video from the Worther estate." Logan replied and brought up a video. He froze it on the mystery woman in the rabbit costume and focused in on her face.
"You're sure she knocked you down?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It's not something that's easy to forget." He replied and clenched his jaw.
"So, what now?"
Logan turned to look at him. "I find her."
"And how are you going to do that?" Peter questioned.
Well, that was where the plan snags. Logan thought with a frown. All I've got is a picture. This is gonna be one hell of a job... job. Job. Job!
Logan snapped forward and began typing madly. He smiled to himself as he brought up the employment database the FBI told everyone didn't exist. The fact that the government had files on basically everyone who was currently employed within the US bothered him greatly, but at the moment the government's iron grip was helping him out a little, so he'd postpone the cable hack... for a few days anyway.
"What're you doing?" Peter asked as he watched Logan peruse the database, expertly weaving his way through file after file.
"Just narrowing the search to the area..." Logan mumbled as a reply and typed something quickly. Now he was left with only ten options. He went through the first seven with no luck and as the page to the eighth began loading (slowly) he feared that he would never find her... but then that same unsmiling face was staring back at him.
Max Guevara, Jam Pony Messenger Service. He smiled and turned to Peter. "I think I may need to have something rush delivered."
* * * *
Max knocked on the front door and sighed. She never did like making deliveries to or collecting packages from the high rise district. Everyone always gave her a look as if she wasn't anything more to them than some dirt on the bottom of their shoes, and it wasn't like she could scream of her superior... well, everything really.
The door opened, revealing an extremely muscular man who could pass for a serial killer quite well.
"Jam Pony messenger." She said, obviously bored.
"Right." The man grunted. "Hold on."
He disappeared into the apartment, and Max took it as an invitation. She stepped inside quietly and looked around, hoping to find something nearby that she could grab quickly. She smirked as she spotted a table in the next room that held a few items that might be of interest to her. As she crept further into the apartment, she realized that this was really the only perk to winding up on the job in the high rise district. As she was examining a small knickknack that could've been a possibility, a voice startled her.
"Do you do that wherever you go?"
She whirled around, dropping the knickknack in the process. "You!"
Logan smiled at her. "Hello to you too."
"What are you doing here?" She growled, her eyes narrowing.
"I live here."
She shook her head, unable to believe her luck. "You're not serious."
"Oh, I'm very serious." He said and approached her slowly. He lowered his voice to prevent Peter, who they were both aware was standing in the doorway eavesdropping, from hearing. "After the party and that little punch you managed to land on me, I knew I had to check you out. And I must say, the barcode on the back of your neck was a real time saver."
Her hand flew up to the back of her neck instantly and she began massaging the damnable tattoo. She noticed him smirk (which she now officially hated) and couldn't stop her anger from flaring up. "What the hell do you think you're playing with here?"
He continued to smirk and slowly walked away from her. "I'm not sure exactly, but I'm fairly certain it's something akin to fire."
"Are you high?" She asked, her hand falling limply to her side.
He turned to look at her with that smirk that seemed to be plastered to his face. "Not at all."
"Well you could've fooled me." She snapped.
"I did bring you here for a reason." He told her. "I know what you are."
"Look -"
"I got an anonymous report a few years ago about a covert genetics lab in the Wyoming mountains -"
"I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but I'm out because you're a wack-job."
"I located a guy claiming to be a med tech on something called Project Manticore, which was using recombinant DNA to produce a superior human, a warrior, an advanced infantry soldier."
"Not that I don't enjoy an urban legend now and then," She bit. "But what's this got to do with me?"
"The barcode on your neck."
She shook her head after hearing this and turned to storm out of the apartment, but his next words stopped her cold.
"I know you're one of the twelve that escaped."
She turned to face him and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Twelve?"