Disclaimer: Neither of us owns anything concerning either Dark Angel or Alias.
A/N: This story has been written through the joint efforts of xhyppupx (cutelilhyperdoggie@yahoo.com) and myself. The timeline of this story reflects that of Dark Angel, right after the conclusion of Skin Game (May 12, 2021). This fanfiction is a crossover between Dark Angel and Alias, our favorite shows. Alias characters will reflect their current profiles on the show (same age, jobs, etc.), despite the time difference between Dark Angel and Alias. The beginning is basically an introduction to the other for those that are only familiar with one show.
****BE SURE TO READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE BEGINNING THE STORY! IT CONTAINS IMPORTANT INFORMATION!
CIA HQ
"We've just received word from the NSA," Dixon began.
Only a few agents managed to successfully hide their surprise. It was rare, if not at all, that the NSA associated any of its operations with the CIA.
"They've run out of field agents and have requested a few from our division."
"What exactly does this assignment concern?" Sydney asked. She was not pleased with having to work with the NSA. There haven't been many pleasant rumors arising from the NSA recently.
"It's a simple operation—to obtain a subject from a once covert operation known as Project Manticore. Marshall, would you care to explain?"
"U-Uh Yes sir. I'm sure everyone had a great weekend with their families. My kids and I; we went skiing—"
"Marshall, please continue."
"Right, anyway, I-I'm sure you've all heard of genetic engineering, c-correct?"
Everyone nodded in understandment.
"Project Manticore were l-leaders in this branch of science. They experimented with gene splicing and recombinant DNA Their goal: to build the p-perfect soldier."
Marshall started the slide projector. Images of X Series soldiers appeared.
"The first four series were faulty, due to either too much or too little of certain characteristics, making some of the series too dangerous," Marshall explained, as images of Manticore anomalies appeared.
"The X5 s-series were the first documented success. The series proved independent, among other skills. Th-this series was spliced with mostly feline DNA, allowing them enhanced vision as well as night vision, great speed, and superior hearing. Un-unfortunately, they were too independent and developed free thought."
"And that compares to?" Vaughn questioned.
"After that series, the X6s and X7s were created to be dependent upon each other. As I mentioned earlier, Manticore had some amazing technology, I'm quite impressed myself. This technology was used to manipulate the thought of their creations, conditioning them to what they wanted them to think. The first X5s lacked the conditioning others later went through; thus, managing to escape. Twelve X5s, ranging from ages twelve to nine, escaped in the winter of 2009."
The projector passed through images of X5-599, X5-452, X5-493, and several more.
"Since then, some have been captured; others killed. Some are still out in the world today."
"Where was this operation situated?" Vaughn asked.
"It was in Gi-gillette, Wyoming until the base was destroyed."
" Destroyed?" Sydney inquired.
"About and year ago, a freelancing underground cyberjournlist known as Eyes Only broadcasted the location of the site. The site was cauterized to destroy any evidence of the operation's existence. However, before the X Series' extermination was complete, they were released from the site and scattered by an escaped X5. Mo-most went into hiding; others were recaptured by NSA agents assigned to the task. Months later, nearly all transgenics had settled into a toxicated area known as Terminal City and made it there home. When the public grew aware, military forces became involved and in the end, the transgenics managed to convince the public they had rights.
"The NSA still believes their existence threatens the general public and wants to recapture them. Their previous handler for this task was found guilty of treason and several other charges and therefore dismissed from the agency. As Dixon said earlier, they did not have enough agents at hand to immediately take over this assignment and asked for our temporary assistance," Marshall finally concluded.
"Ok, let me get this straight," Sydney said. "The NSA wants us to recapture these transgenics for them? It seems like they want us to do their dirty work, if you ask me."
"Well, they only asked us to capture one—their leader. X5-452, aka Max Guevara. They told us once we had their leader, they would handle the rest since more men would be available to take over the assignment."
"I'm not so sure about this…I never imagined the government would let something like this get blown out in the open," Vaughn commented. "These transgenics were trained to kill. They're a lot more advanced then us physically and mentally. Do we even have enough manpower to take them on?"
"We will," Dixon concluded. And with that, the meeting ended.
Max looked down to the 'city' below her from the rooftops of Terminal City. Mole and Dix were working out a plan for their next supply run in the room they dubbed the conference center. It would only be a few days away before their supplies were drained. Max rolled her eyes when she stumbled upon Alec trying to teach a couple X6s to gamble 'properly'.
As she arrived into the 'bar' that had just been recently established, she glanced over to a couple who were engaged in an argument.
"You'll never be a father."
"Of course I can be a father! H*ll, I contributed the sperm that makes her who she is today."
The female transgenic scoffed. "You were following orders."
"So you're going to deny that we ever had anything between us?"
"You mean love?"
"What else would I be talking about?"
"You don't know what love is if cupid hit you with a huge dose of it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what I mean."
"What's going on here?" Max interrupted, no longer having the patience to hear the couple fight it out.
"It's none–of-your-business 452," the male responded,
"The name's MAX," Max snapped through gritted teeth.
They both sneered.
"What? Got a problem with my name now?"
"Yeah, it doesn't suit a traitor like you!"
They began to walk away, laughing amongst themselves until Max called them back. "Well, I've introduced myself. Now it's your turn."
"X5-387 at your service," the female said in a mocking manner, which she only supported with a faulty salute.
"X5-675 also at your service," the male responded, imitating his partner.
"Looks like I got a bunch of smart a**es partying here in TC with me," Max retorted. "I WAS going to give some advice, but you two are doing fine without me."
Now it was Max who turned her shoulder to the snickering transgenic couple. She would remember their faces. Some transgenics may have been better off dying in the fire…No, don't think like that. It's Manticore's fault. It was Manticore who shoved the image of 'traitors' into their minds. Max sighed as she headed up the stairs to see how Dix and Mole were doing. As they say, you can take them out of Manticore, but you can't take Manticore out of them. You can't win all battles. Some still miss home sweet home…
"So, how was your daily stroll through Terminal City?" Dix asked when he saw the disgruntled transgenic entering the room.
"Great. Just great." Max answered sarcastically as she plopped down into her chair. "I can't believe there's still some X5's out there who wish to be back at Manticore."
"Well, I don't think Manticore was exactly h*ll for all their soldiers, Ms. I'm-a-rebel-and-loath-Manticore." Mole began. "Some were favored above others by their COs and TAC leaders, giving them a clear advantage in…well everything. Specifically, they weren't treated as harshly and thus, never really thought of Manticore as the "big bad" place others do."
"Unfortunately, some of us could not blend in as nicely into their "perfect soldier" agenda." Dix commented. "I mean, look at us."
Max gave a soft chuckle. "Well, I guess those soldiers don't regret leaving home."
"I think I like my new home." Dix grinned.
Mole only snorted, not quite wanting to admit that he was in fact enjoying the freedom Max gave them.
"So, how's the supply run lookin'?
"We'll be in and out before they know what hit 'em," Mole replied, taking a huff on his cigar.
"Great! How many are needed to carry out the plan?"
"Only a small team of three." Dix responded.
"Hmm…" Max knew exactly who to recruit.
"Got someone in mind?" both asked.
"Yup."
And with that, she left to find her new recruits for the mission.
Lydecker groaned as two shadowed figures dumped him back into his cell after another tell-us-everything-you-know-about-452-and-we'll-be-nice-to-you session. Nice is way overrated, he thought to himself. So far, he hadn't told them much—only the few facts he remember before the '09 escape. He tested his knee and figured it was broken when he was met with an excruciating pain. His fingers passed over the cuts and bruises that covered his face. It had been one of the worst sessions yet. And it only seemed to get worse with each passing day.
He couldn't understand why they wanted to know so much about 452, or Max, as he liked to call her, but he wasn't going to give it to them. He was known for his stubbornness in the past and he would hold true to that reputation…or maybe he really cared for his 'kids'…
He heard footsteps outside his cell and sat himself up as the heard the locks being undone. A tall man with dark brown colored hair around his forties entered.
"Ames White. I'm going to make you one offer and I think you'll find it fair," he said coldly.
Lydecker only mumbled slightly.
"Your freedom and life in exchange for your assistance in capturing 452."
Lydecker was silent.
"I'll give you a day to think about this…" White offered as he left and locked his cell once again.
Lydecker lies back on the small cot. If I'm to take this offer, I'll finally get out of this h*ll hole. And I can finally find my kids again…even if it is helping that scumbag. Of course…who ever said I had to help him? He just asked for assistance… Lydecker smiled and drifted off into a restful sleep.
The next morning, he awoke to the yells of two guards who had just entered his cell and were commanding him to stand up. When he resisted, he regretted his actions for the ending result was a knee to the stomach and a punch to the face. Then the two guards cuffed and dragged him out of his cell.
He groaned as he arrived to the little cozy room of torture. He noticed there were more of White's men who needed a punching bag…great…this White fellow must be desperate…
When he was dropped off to his cell, he was certain he had a few broken ribs and other bones; he could barely move. It was certainly worst than last time. They didn't even ask any question this time—just began with the beatings. Obviously they were out of patience…
"So, have you come to a decision?"
Lydecker turned around. It was White. He was so absorb with inspecting the pain they had inflicted he wasn't even aware White had entered his cell.
"Yes…I have." Lydecker whispered, for his throat was dry and voice disappearing.
White grinned as he saw the look of defeat in Lydecker's face.
"Which would be?"
"I'll help…if you get me out of here…and heal…" Before Lydecker could finish his sentence, he blacked out.
White scoffed. Well, he wasn't going to be any help dying.
Lydecker awoke to find himself in…a hospital bed? He looked around and saw nurses about. White had kept to his promise. Now to 'keep' his…
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