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CHAPTER FOUR – REUNION
Alec pulled himself out of bed with a groan and walked wearily to the mirror on the wall, inspecting the reflection of a man with dishevelled hair, dark circles below his eyes and the spatterings of facial hair on his face. "Not looking to great their old man", Alec sighed to himself in the mirror. It had been 5 weeks since he began his assignment and Alec was beginning to feel as though it was going nowhere. He had found no evidence implicating Reverend Caldwell with White's actions and aside from assisting some transgenics that the Reverend's gang had been on to, Alec had pretty much sat around twiddling his thumbs.
The Coalition for a Transgenic Free State was pretty much unsuccessful in their attempts at anything. Alec threw some clothes onto the bed and smiled. The Reverend was a sad-ass excuse for an enemy. The guy was as slow as he was naïve, and as disorganised as Joshua's apartment at TC. Nonetheless, Alec dutifully carried out his mission, spying on the group, instigating sabotage from within the group, and reporting his actions to Logan, who relayed them to Max.
Max. It had been over a month since Alec had last seen her, and despite his measurable attempts to deny it, he actually found himself missing her. Whether it was while he was stealing a painting or installing new parts to his motorcycle, he thought of her. Sometimes when he would come home late at night he would half expect her to be there, asking for his help, threatening to kick his ass or dropping by with pasties from Little Debbie's. Like the old days.
He often found himself missing the old days too. When he was only required to help save the Transgenic Of the Week with a sarcastic smile and comment and then spend the rest of his evening at Crash hitting on the ladies or giving Max grief. Things were so different now. His friends were being hunted and killed and he was their last hope, a known screw-up struggling to assume an identity far too similar to his mission requirements at Manticore and failing miserably to get any closer to White and his whereabouts, or his master plan.
He sighed again as he dressed, pulling on a pair of acid-wash jeans, a dark green shirt that had some sort of brand stamped across the front and his leather jacket tiredly.
"Hi ho, hi ho, off to work I go…" Alec quipped to his empty house as he headed around the back to his motorcycle.
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The building that housed CTFS was large and conspicuous and paraded as a 'Transgenic Information and Enquiry Office' for concerned citizens of the US and seemingly insurmountable streams of Asian and European tourists who flooded the city in search of 'transgenics', hoping to get a peek at their hideously deformed faces and super-human abilities. A small souvenir shop operated from the first floor, as did a café somewhat tackily named 'Chow-abunga – The Food Of Freaks'. The next few levels were home to a museum featuring a 'layout' and supposed satellite photos of the original Manticore site, photographs of alleged transgenics, 'victim's' stories, information about DNA and gene-splicing, and a history of genetic engineering dating back to pre-pulse genetic modification of food, with one particular exhibit dedicated to the Colorado Genetically-Modified Apple Tragedy of 2008. Alec generally laughed at most of the fabricated tourist-catching blather, except of course for the GM Apple situation, he had heard that some men had been born impotent, and that was just wrong. The remaining top floors were used as interview rooms for people to tell their stories to reporters from the CTFS newspaper 'Watchtower', as the Reverend's public offices and as a chapel reserved especially for praying to rid America of trannies.
But it was from the sub-levels of TIEO that Alec operated. Far beneath the public façade of assistance, aid and religious care, Terry Caldwell played a dangerous game with the streets. The whole city knew about it, but no-one ever spoke of it. Except for a few Eyes Only hacks, an unspoken rule of silence was in place regarding the Reverend's operations. They mightn't be working for White, but they were in the business of murder. Alec did what he could to assist the targeted transgenics, but it was impossible to save them all. Casualties of war. Alec shivered involuntarily as he entered the large building.
A bubbly red-headed receptionist greeted him as he entered the building and walked past the information desk. "Good morning Mr Smart" she beamed at him, pushing her chest in his direction obviously.
"Morning Grill" he winked at her "How's it?"
"All good", she replied with a bounce. He stepped into the elevators, Grill's gaze following him as the doors closed. Alec grinned to himself. She so wanted him.
Alec's 'office' was segmented from his co-workers' by broken crates and cardboard box dividers. The walls were devoid of paint or decoration, there were suspicious stains and smells wafting about the damp lower-levels and except for the state-of-the-art tech supplies, the room looked like it was something from the days long before the pulse, long before the 21st century. Alec was head of the LAD team, or the Locate and Disable team of the Coalition. It was his job to track down transgenics and stop them from harming other citizens of Seattle. At Manticore, they had a unit just like it. It was called Search and Destroy. "Hey Alec!" Alec's attention was drawn to the far side of the room by the boom of Frell's forceful voice.
Frell was a tiny man, about half Alec's height, and easily half his weight. From his appearance, it was difficult to believe that such a fragile vessel was home to such a strong voice. "Alec, the big man wants to see us"
"Huh?" Alec stared blankly. He had been lost in thought, a place that had once seemed unfamiliar territory, but was now where Alec spent most of his time.
"The Reverend? Ya know, the man in charge?"
"Yeah" Alec drawled a response. Spinning around on one foot, Alec headed back out to the elevators.
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The Reverend's office was large and spacious, lusciously decorated and a far cry from Alec's corner in the basement. A large exquisitely carved wooden crucifix hung above the office desk on the wall, and various other articles of religious paraphernalia were dotted about the place. Hypocritical, Alec thought, but funny that he can maintain the façade. Alec stood in front of the desk, one hand hooked casually through the belt loop on his jeans, the other rubbing his hair tiredly. Frell stood at attention beside him, his body taut, his concentration focused. Alec stifled an internal, cynical laugh. They hate transgenics, and yet here they were, acting just like transgenics were trained too. The Reverend turned to face them, his expression stern.
Terri Caldwell's voice was calm and even. He spoke softly, but firmly and with perfect privileged-life pronunciation. His tone reminded Alec of the one Agent Sandoval might have used some years ago. It also reminded him of the psychopath's voice from that pre-pulse film The Silence Of The Lambs. "Boys, boys, boys, you know I've been happy with your work lately, but I'm afraid there has been a mistake."
Alec's heart stopped. For a few seconds, the only thing he could hear was the sudden shallowness of his breath. In times of inescapable threat, the X5's had been trained to almost shut down their systems to minimum requirements. Say for example a Russian team were closing in, and Alec's unit was cornered, he would stop breathing heavy, his heart would slow to an almost standstill, his body wouldn't move, his temperature would drop. It wasn't instinct but it had been drilled into him from the moment of his birth, so you could call it indoctrination, but whatever it was, it kicked in unwillingly as the Reverend spoke and Alec became a living statue. Frell noticed the change in his comrade almost instantly. "Alec, hey Alec, you alright?" Alec didn't answer. All he could hear was the blood rushing past his ears at it migrated south for the winter. Frell turned his attention back toward the Reverend, swallowing his nerves. "What kind of a problem, sir?"
Terry Caldwell adjusted his tie before he spoke. "Last week, you boys were tracking that goo thingy through the sewers… it and an X-series soldier…" Frell nodded his answer, but Alec stared straight ahead. He couldn't move. He tried to open his mouth, but it seemed as though his muscles were unresponsive. "And we know that there were civilian casualties during the operation…"
"Yes sir…" Frell once again answered for them both.
"Well, that Eyes Only jerk has the public believing that it was our fault, like you boys stirred them up or something, made them attack, that sort of thing…"
The colour began to return to Alec's face. His fingers curled as he regained the use of his body. He hadn't been found out. His cover wasn't compromised. His heart began to beat faster, Alec exhaled.
"And now…" the Reverend continued "The families are filing a civil suit against our organization. We will, of course, deny all involvement in the situation, you boys were just acting on your own free will, no orders were given…"
Frell interjected "But sir…?"
The Reverends voice fell sharp into a tense room, his tone rising as he stared down the young man who dared oppose him. "You knew the risks involved…" Frell's defiance died.
Alec turned his head slowly in the direction of the door. His senses had suddenly gone from almost non-existent to high-alert. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he had to fight back a low purr rising in his throat. His hands clenched beside him, and he felt a ripple spread through the muscles in his body. He could feel… a presence. And he registered a strangely familiar, but equally unknown scent. But more than that, on some higher consciousness of being, beyond the limits of even his genetically enhanced senses, he knew what was approaching. Alec felt the blood rush to his nether regions instantaneously, and the strangled purr escaped from him, surprising the two men beside him.
Terry Caldwell continued, an eyebrow raised quizzically in Alec's direction. "However, a slur on your team will undoubtedly mean a slur on us, therefore I have brought in one of the finest attorneys in Seattle…
As if in response to a pre-written cue, the large wooden doors to the Reverend's office were pushed open and Alec found himself staring into the dark, compelling green eyes of a woman he thought he would never see again…
"My god-daughter, Antigone…"
Her eyes met his and in an instant the room felt like liquid fire. Memories rushed back to her, a thousand thoughts raced through her head. There were a million things she needed to say, but only one came out.
"Oh my god…"