Reality Check
By Rowe
Thankyou to Enigma and Sorrow for their help in trying to remain true to the characters.
Disclaimer: DA belongs to Fox and J.Cameron.
Chapter 7: And the pain and suffering begins._____________________________________________________________________
The buzz of the needle vibrated up his arm as Ben made his mark, stamping it indelibly onto his victim's neck. This one had squirmed too much. He had been forced to render him unconscious early in the procedure. Movement would be bad, he needed this to be accurate. The anticipation was starting to charge inside of him as he finished the preparation of the man still out cold in the chair. When his task was completed to his satisfaction he studied the replica. The reddened skin the only clear indication of the recent application.
His arsenal was once again unpacked and arrayed on the rack behind him. To make his hunt more competitive he always liked to arm his game. It heightened the unpredictability, adding that variable of uncertainty to the outcome. Russian roulette, giving them a chance, however minuscule, that they could successful escape and evade him. It rendered them a sense of hope for survival that made them run faster, fight harder. Time to begin his own psychological preparation while he waited for the man to regain his senses. Ben moved to his position and began his breathing. Slowly he focused until all the distractions were erased from his consciousness. His mind ran its mantra, the words on the wall solidifying in his thoughts as flashes from his childhood indoctrination reinforced them. Finally, snapping back to the present he was ready to begin.
The blood pounded powerfully in his ears as he released his now awake quarry. The thirst was upon him. The sweet blood overrode the acidic stench of fear. He was reliving it. Reliving that day when his soul had been first freed of the confines of humanity. He had been as one with that primitive urge. She, their Blue Lady, had been given their gifts at the high place that night. The cold of the roof top and been the home of their shrine. The small picture of her acted as their icon to acknowledge their reverence. He had held the others enthralled with his explanation of her role in their life, as protector. As the teeth were handed to him by each individual he had felt a surge of pride in his family. They were willing to sacrifice of themselves as their faith in her was strong. Now, in the present, he was ready to renew his covenant with the Blue Lady. He needed to supply her with the strength to protect him.
Lifting his nose to the air like a hound, he searched for the man's scent. This one was sloppier than the last, not really a worthy prey. He was disappointed in his choice but knew that it was too late to change. The trail of flight blazed out for Ben's enhanced eyes to see. Crouching low, he followed the path laid out for him. Sighting the man he moved swiftly in for the kill. He wasn't the type to play with his captives, he wasn't sadistic. Reaching out he took a death grip upon the back of the man's neck. The final snap as the man's vertebrae cracked in his hand signalled his success. But this mission wasn't over, he pulled out his tools to begin his gory task.
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Standing stiffly as he received his final orders, he carefully tried to hide his discomfort. The dismay he felt was quickly hidden behind a well-practiced mask of indifference. 494 was to make sure that Berrisford and his daughter were taken care of the next morning when the target took his daughter to school. Manticore wanted to send a clear message out to all their suppliers, something decisive. They planned to make an example Berrisford. Their orders, though quite logical, brought him internal conflict. He was conflicted enough that he had even queried his orders. The rebuke for his attitude and the implied threat that was in Sandoval's voice was not lost on him. Years in Manticore training had developed in all of their soldiers, a healthy respect of the methodology used to deal with those that failed.
As he left the Manticore facility to return to Seattle, he contemplated what he needed to do. Time had come to make the decision where his loyalties lay. His feelings for Rachel were confusing at best. He had no frame of reference to compare them with. In the end this Simon Lehane, the man she thought she loved, was never real anyway. He was a soldier in disguise with a difficult mission to complete. As he pushed his regrets to the back of his mind, 494 knew what needed to be done. Focusing on the road ahead, he tried to mentally reestablish his cover. He had a piano lesson to take when he got back, he needed to get his head back in the game.
By the time he had reached his destination he was once again Simon Lehane. When he entered the Berrisford home, he was promptly called to Berrisford's side. With sincere regret the man informed him that his position as piano teacher would no longer be carrying on as he was sending Rachel away. Business was not going well and he needed to send her to her grandparent's place. The regret on the man's face as he told him was evident. The sincerity made 494 feel even more like a phoney, and he awkwardly shook the man's hand. Rachel breezed in like a breath of fresh air. The distraction gave him a chance to compose himself again.
Her lesson went off without a hitch. He watched her from beneath lowered lashes as she played, putting her whole body into the experience. She sprang to her feet after the allotted time was up. The work portion of his time was over, now she wanted to play. Her arms crept around him a her lips rose up to meet his, he let a sigh of contentment escape before he even had a chance to think about it. As she gently kissed him, he felt a twinge of doubt about Manticore and what they wanted him to do. The girl he held in his arms was innocent, yet he was ordered to coldly dispose of both her and her father just so they could send out a message.
" Sir, I can eliminate Berrisford without involving the daughter. It just seems to me the collateral damage is an unnecessary ." His simple statement, so abruptly cut off, still ran through his head. The response had been so clipped and he had heeded the warning not to address the issue any further. That didn't stop him mulling it over inside of his own head, keeping his own counsel. He let himself enjoy the warmth of her company, telling himself it was just one last time.
***
The hotel room felt stuffy and claustrophobic as he prepared his material for the task efficiently. It was all simple enough. Plant the device under Berrisford's car then detonate it when they were both inside, make sure that the job was successful and then clear the area. His mission accomplished. The conflict still raged internally but his fear of retribution stifled them again. He managed with effort to dampen them back to a whisper he could ignore. It was over. His time with her was to finish now. The memory of her laughing, coyly approaching him, of her kissing him. Her whispered admission of love he allowed himself to privately cherish, but he wouldn't question his orders.
Completing his task, he closed the case quickly trying to shut away all the treacherous questions that were still haunting him. Tomorrow morning he was to complete the final phase, tonight was his last night away from home. He knew he should get some rest so he would be ready, but he didn't think sleep would be an option tonight.
***
As he lay down on the ground to place the C4 under the car chassis, he took one final steadying breath and competently placed the explosive device at the correct point. Glancing up at the house he saw her moving up stairs. With regret he moved swiftly up the driveway, hearing voices he sought cover and paused out of sight as Berrisford made his way to the car. The remote in his hand felt awkward and uncomfortable. For the first time in his life he was unsure whether he could do his job.
" Sometimes the right thing can go so wrong." Her father's words flowed through 494's mind crystallising the truth. Something inside snapped, he knew he couldn't walk away, couldn't forget. She meant too much, how much he wasn't sure, but definitely worth fighting for. Making a decision he knew would most likely result in incredible back lash to him, he chose to openly defy his command. Moving back down the drive he entered the house to intercept her. He just couldn't go through with his orders, he needed to stop the madness now, to change all of their futures.
He moved quickly to confront her as she descended the curving staircase.With a desperation born out of fear for her life, he realised he needed to make her listen, to make her understand the seriousness of the situation, of him being there, of what he really was. He saw the confusion written all over her face at his unexpected presence before she spoke. This was not going to be easy.
"Listen to me. You and your father need to leave town right now" She looked at him with wide eyes as she processed his request.
- "I'll cover for you. I'll tell 'em that you left in the middle of the night. But you have got to go now." He grabbed hold of her trying to emphasise the seriousness of his request and how important this all was. She wanted explanations but he didn't know how much he could really tell her. Or how much time he had to make things right.
He knew he had to play his trump card. "It was my job. You were my job.." It killed him inside to say it to her. She had become so much more than his mission but he needed her to understand why he was there in the first place. Her hand flew back and connected with his face in an abrupt slap. The crushing distress on her face tore him up inside and he was slow to react as she pushed passed him.
Her name erupted from his lips as his attempts to stop her resulted only in her cherished locket being clutched in his gloved fingers. He still needed to convince her to leave while they still could. Shouting her name frantically he followed, wanting her to stop and listen, to let him explain better. He descended the stairs and dealt with Berrisford's man as he tried to block his way. As the car came into sight, the explosion rocked him back. He was too late and now, he screamed her name in terror. Terror at what he had been party to and that he had failed in his attempt to save her from himself.
The black SUV pulled up beside him, the driver clutched a remote, identical to his, in his hand. They hadn't trusted him, as Sandoval had warned him, he had let them lose confidence in him and now he had been compromised. As they dragged him struggling away, his mind was on what had become of Rachel and not on his own future. He could not see one beyond the numbing pain of what he had just let happen.
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The bars on the cell were a comfort to Cain's troubled mind. He'd been shown graphic pictures of the crimes he had been accused of. Ones he knew intimately but had not carried out. His stomach had wretched and deposited its contents on the floor of the interrogation room. His horror had been at seeing the reality of his dreams, not at what they had shown him. He couldn't comprehend why his fingerprints and his DNA was being used as proof. Was he really that insane? His mind refused to comprehend that he could be actually involved without him consciously knowing it.
The men had shown him no mercy. Brutal murders brought disgust into play in the criminal justice system. The idea of removing teeth tended to suggest a sick and troubled mind. A mind that they were sure was his; the evidence even proved conclusively it was his work. Cain's faith was wavering. Who was he? What was he? He was quickly beginning to doubt that he had ever known. His stomach churned again, now empty, the bile all that was left to be exhumed. Ritualistic in its process, the killer was methodical and efficient. Post mortem arrangement of the body denoted a purpose to the actions. The taste of his own blood filled Cain from the cut lip he had suffered during interrogation. It mingled in his mind with the taste of the hunt.
He huddled in the corner of his cold damp cell oblivious to his surrounds. For the moment he had been left to his own thoughts and fears. The flashes were coming now in his waking periods like vivid hallucinations. With photographic clarity he was watching a new murder unfold. The pictures they had shown him while they had been interrogating couldn't replicate the emotions he was being bombarded with now. These visions came with the added sensory overload of taste and smell that his body seemed to be craving like some addictive substance.
Lost in his thoughts he was unaware when a blonde man with an air of authority strode into the cellblock. He only became conscious of his presence when the man flipped his badge at the guard and approached his cell. Something about this stranger put Cain on edge. He feared this visitor would be accompanied by another round of questioning. His nightmares had been becoming worse as the hours wore on and his mind was being overtaken by exhaustion. He could imagine that there was no greater torture to a man's soul than to be branded a psychotic killer. Cain was totally ingnorant about how much he still would have to learn.
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Looking at the frightened and confused man behind the bars of the dimly lit cell, Deck felt a twinge of guilt. Here was an innocent man, totally unaware of what he could have been, and who he really was. The eyes of the transgenic fixed on him warily. The Colonel knew what the sector police must have put him through, the battered state of his face told the story. Even with his accelerated healing powers he would look beaten for several days.
Turning to the sergeant he had brought with him he demanded Cain's release into this custody. The Manticore men he had brought with him had been instructed to be firm but gentle with 495. He didn't need to sustain any more damage than he had already been subjected to. They moved into position as the door slid open. As a cornered animal, they knew just how dangerous a wounded or confused X-series could be and were prepared.
Cain's eyes flickered at Deck with a question. One that Lydecker knew he could not answer for now.
"Steady son, let's do this easy way and no one will get hurt." The soothing tone he used seemed to relax the tense stance of 495. This boy needed to be brought home. The tranquilliser in the guards hand posed a threat that he watched 495 perceive and cower away from. However, unlike the Manticore raised X5s, he showed no intention to fight. Actually, regretfully Deck admitted, he looked a little pathetic. What had happened to this man to crush his soul?
Deck snapped out of his musings as his men lifted the now unconscious body of the transgenic and carried him past. He had to do his clean up job now. Time to shut down the investigation and deal with the inquiries so that the matter would remain silent. He had other problems to deal with as well. Word had reached him that 494 had been compromised at the final stage of his mission. Everything seemed to be going to hell in a hand basket at the moment and he had that bitch Renfro in his face as well. Good thing was, at least he had two of them locked up and under observation. Now if they could just finally get a grasp on 493 they might be able to salvage the situation.
