Disclaimer: DON'T SUE ME! PLEASE!
Less pleady Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Dark Angel. This is the truth, 'cos if I did it wouldn't have been cancelled, y'know? What follows is a non-commercial work of fiction, set some time in S2. I dunno when, just S2.
DEDICATION: This is dedicated to Vil, who loves Ames White so much it's not even funny. Her words, not mine.
Other notes: M/L shipper stuff will occur at some point. And thanks for the spelling correction of Asha.
Screen note: AUTHOR rolls eyes
A/N: thoughts "speech" --signal--
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NSA Agent Ames White was annoyed. He was waxing homicidal, only since he wasn't out in the field he couldn't pin it on the transgenics. But Otto was aware of his boss' bad mood, and had fled down the corridor when he'd seen the Familiar enter that morning. Not that Otto knew Ames was a Familiar. Just that he was extremely pissed off.
The reason? Otto had gotten them lost when they were on the trail of 452. By the time they got back on track, the X5 had done her usual disappearing trick. If there was such thing as a luck gene, then Sandemann had pumped 452 full of it. And that just served to annoy Ames even more. That his father, a genetically superior human being, would waste his time creating these freaks. As if they would ever be accepted. Humans feared what they couldn't understand, and hated what they feared.
The thought brought a wry smile to Ames' face. One which was wiped off when he saw the eleven files on his desk, each one labeled with a single designation in Otto's barely legible writing. Eleven files? What the hell was so special about these freaks that they had separate files? Ames sat down and went over the files. The first one he picked up was labeled X1-294. Ames thought about wringing Otto's neck. He knew the X1s were a bunch of 'nomalies', the freaks that even the freaks cast out. The freaks considered to be of no worth, other than as tales for scaring younger series into behaving themselves. The file of an X1 was worthless.
Ames opened the file up. The first page was a picture, the most recent. Ames' eyes almost widened in shock. Almost. The male freak in front of him was not a nomaly. He had to be the most human looking of his series. He was wearing civilian clothing, a rarity for Manticore soldiers. It looked like he'd been sharing a joke with Lydecker, who was also in the picture. The two looked like father and son, as if the human DNA in 294 had come from the Colonel. That the freak had a sense of humour was apparent, that he was also a cold blooded killer showed only to those who took the time to look into his eyes, which chilled Ames to the bone, even with the spark of humour there.
Ames flipped the page, and looked at the freaks DNA work up. Not as perfect as 452's, but 294 was obviously no slackly put together freak. He had been well designed. Still a lot of Junk DNA in there, but for an X1 he was in good shape. Ames tried to cast his mind back to when he was a child, to when he'd been overhearing things his father talked about on the phone. He was certain that he'd never heard tell of X1s being trained. But then, his father was also conclave. Even if he was going senile, he must still have been aware that Ames, at five years old, knew the basic rules of the religious cults. Especially when it came to genetic testing.
Now there was an idea. Having perused the file, Ames had seen no notes about 294's resistance to pathogens. What were the chances of an X1 having the necessary genes to combat the snake's blood? 294 had run the gauntlet of survival so far, and was winning. But until now, he'd not been hit by the big guns. Let's see how he handles himself in that kind of situation Ames thought to himself. Surely he won't be as hard as 452
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It was a week after they'd first met, and Ice had invited Max, Logan and the crew to dinner. Logan insisted on cooking, to which Dynamite quipped "You do know what a transgenic's appetite is like, right?"
Logan had glanced at Max with a smile, and gave a brisk "Affirmative," which coming from Logan cracked the transgenics up. Original Cindy, Herbal and Sketchy rolled in perfectly on time, the eleven X1s having shacked up outside of Terminal City. "Too obvious," Mack told the Ordinaries. "Plus, when the girls get in heat, it could be even more dangerous for the T's, D's and H's."
"T's, D's and H's?" Sketchy asked, non-plussed
"Toms, Dicks and Harries," Danni supplied, as there was a knock at the door. Ice answered it, and to his surprise found Normal on the doorstep. He invited his boss in, and went in search of Data, who had suddenly, and uncharacteristically, run off in a fit of laughter. He knew that Data wasn't in heat; she wouldn't go with an X1, but Herbal, Sketchy, Logan and perhaps even Alec, if he could disconnect his tongue from Fred's long enough, wouldn't have been safe. Even though the workups said otherwise, Ice swore that Data had black widow *and* preying mantis DNA in her cocktail. Slim had assigned himself as her minder when she was in heat. He was the only one who would hit her hard enough to keep her out cold long enough to tie her up. In a completely non-kinky way.
Ice stopped that train of thought dead, thanking, for the first and last time, a string of trips to Psy-Ops, which had eventually taught him the trick to wrapping the Psis around his little finger. He found Data, hopeless with laughter and the shakes, on the stairs.
The shakes, they were dangerous. Ice got them himself, very rarely. Apparently, his neural system wasn't as crazy as Data's, or Mack's, or Slim's, or Finn's. The clone and clonee in particular suffered badly from the disorder.
Ice forgot about bawling Data out for inviting Normal over; it was a nice gesture anyway, since Reagan Ronald was the most socially inadequate person Ice had ever met. Hell, Ice had met nomalies with better social lives than Normal. He rooted in Data's pockets for her pill bottle, unscrewed the cap, and forced two of the tryptophan pills down her throat. When she regained her composure, he helped her back to the dining area. Max saw the pale look of thanks on Data's face, in relation to Ice, and smiled to herself. At least these transgenics were in capable hands. Eleven less for her to worry about.
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Ames White was in a good mood. For once. Otto had managed to find a location for all eleven X1s he'd dumped in White's desk earlier in the week. They were all in the same place. In a warehouse, one of those redesigned places, with separate bedrooms but a communal eating area. A former university Halls of Residence. Smart move. He'd expected an address in Terminal City. That was where the freaks usually gathered. But not smart enough. Ames wanted a little chat with these X1's. 294 in particular...
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Well there we go. I was just thinking... how do I write M/L ship stuff into this? They can't touch! Hmmm... maybe Finn can help out...
Less pleady Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Dark Angel. This is the truth, 'cos if I did it wouldn't have been cancelled, y'know? What follows is a non-commercial work of fiction, set some time in S2. I dunno when, just S2.
DEDICATION: This is dedicated to Vil, who loves Ames White so much it's not even funny. Her words, not mine.
Other notes: M/L shipper stuff will occur at some point. And thanks for the spelling correction of Asha.
Screen note: AUTHOR rolls eyes
A/N: thoughts "speech" --signal--
---------------------------------------------------------
NSA Agent Ames White was annoyed. He was waxing homicidal, only since he wasn't out in the field he couldn't pin it on the transgenics. But Otto was aware of his boss' bad mood, and had fled down the corridor when he'd seen the Familiar enter that morning. Not that Otto knew Ames was a Familiar. Just that he was extremely pissed off.
The reason? Otto had gotten them lost when they were on the trail of 452. By the time they got back on track, the X5 had done her usual disappearing trick. If there was such thing as a luck gene, then Sandemann had pumped 452 full of it. And that just served to annoy Ames even more. That his father, a genetically superior human being, would waste his time creating these freaks. As if they would ever be accepted. Humans feared what they couldn't understand, and hated what they feared.
The thought brought a wry smile to Ames' face. One which was wiped off when he saw the eleven files on his desk, each one labeled with a single designation in Otto's barely legible writing. Eleven files? What the hell was so special about these freaks that they had separate files? Ames sat down and went over the files. The first one he picked up was labeled X1-294. Ames thought about wringing Otto's neck. He knew the X1s were a bunch of 'nomalies', the freaks that even the freaks cast out. The freaks considered to be of no worth, other than as tales for scaring younger series into behaving themselves. The file of an X1 was worthless.
Ames opened the file up. The first page was a picture, the most recent. Ames' eyes almost widened in shock. Almost. The male freak in front of him was not a nomaly. He had to be the most human looking of his series. He was wearing civilian clothing, a rarity for Manticore soldiers. It looked like he'd been sharing a joke with Lydecker, who was also in the picture. The two looked like father and son, as if the human DNA in 294 had come from the Colonel. That the freak had a sense of humour was apparent, that he was also a cold blooded killer showed only to those who took the time to look into his eyes, which chilled Ames to the bone, even with the spark of humour there.
Ames flipped the page, and looked at the freaks DNA work up. Not as perfect as 452's, but 294 was obviously no slackly put together freak. He had been well designed. Still a lot of Junk DNA in there, but for an X1 he was in good shape. Ames tried to cast his mind back to when he was a child, to when he'd been overhearing things his father talked about on the phone. He was certain that he'd never heard tell of X1s being trained. But then, his father was also conclave. Even if he was going senile, he must still have been aware that Ames, at five years old, knew the basic rules of the religious cults. Especially when it came to genetic testing.
Now there was an idea. Having perused the file, Ames had seen no notes about 294's resistance to pathogens. What were the chances of an X1 having the necessary genes to combat the snake's blood? 294 had run the gauntlet of survival so far, and was winning. But until now, he'd not been hit by the big guns. Let's see how he handles himself in that kind of situation Ames thought to himself. Surely he won't be as hard as 452
--------------------------------------------
It was a week after they'd first met, and Ice had invited Max, Logan and the crew to dinner. Logan insisted on cooking, to which Dynamite quipped "You do know what a transgenic's appetite is like, right?"
Logan had glanced at Max with a smile, and gave a brisk "Affirmative," which coming from Logan cracked the transgenics up. Original Cindy, Herbal and Sketchy rolled in perfectly on time, the eleven X1s having shacked up outside of Terminal City. "Too obvious," Mack told the Ordinaries. "Plus, when the girls get in heat, it could be even more dangerous for the T's, D's and H's."
"T's, D's and H's?" Sketchy asked, non-plussed
"Toms, Dicks and Harries," Danni supplied, as there was a knock at the door. Ice answered it, and to his surprise found Normal on the doorstep. He invited his boss in, and went in search of Data, who had suddenly, and uncharacteristically, run off in a fit of laughter. He knew that Data wasn't in heat; she wouldn't go with an X1, but Herbal, Sketchy, Logan and perhaps even Alec, if he could disconnect his tongue from Fred's long enough, wouldn't have been safe. Even though the workups said otherwise, Ice swore that Data had black widow *and* preying mantis DNA in her cocktail. Slim had assigned himself as her minder when she was in heat. He was the only one who would hit her hard enough to keep her out cold long enough to tie her up. In a completely non-kinky way.
Ice stopped that train of thought dead, thanking, for the first and last time, a string of trips to Psy-Ops, which had eventually taught him the trick to wrapping the Psis around his little finger. He found Data, hopeless with laughter and the shakes, on the stairs.
The shakes, they were dangerous. Ice got them himself, very rarely. Apparently, his neural system wasn't as crazy as Data's, or Mack's, or Slim's, or Finn's. The clone and clonee in particular suffered badly from the disorder.
Ice forgot about bawling Data out for inviting Normal over; it was a nice gesture anyway, since Reagan Ronald was the most socially inadequate person Ice had ever met. Hell, Ice had met nomalies with better social lives than Normal. He rooted in Data's pockets for her pill bottle, unscrewed the cap, and forced two of the tryptophan pills down her throat. When she regained her composure, he helped her back to the dining area. Max saw the pale look of thanks on Data's face, in relation to Ice, and smiled to herself. At least these transgenics were in capable hands. Eleven less for her to worry about.
--------------------------------------------
Ames White was in a good mood. For once. Otto had managed to find a location for all eleven X1s he'd dumped in White's desk earlier in the week. They were all in the same place. In a warehouse, one of those redesigned places, with separate bedrooms but a communal eating area. A former university Halls of Residence. Smart move. He'd expected an address in Terminal City. That was where the freaks usually gathered. But not smart enough. Ames wanted a little chat with these X1's. 294 in particular...
--------------------------------------------
Well there we go. I was just thinking... how do I write M/L ship stuff into this? They can't touch! Hmmm... maybe Finn can help out...