Title: Total Recall, Chapter 12
Author: CSIphile/redwing
AN: Wow, again thank you all for the positive reviews and I wish I could thank everyone personally, but then half my fic would be me rambling about how you all rock so hard. So I'll just say it once…y'all ROCK! Keep up the reviews, you have no idea how they feed a writers soul.
AN2: Mirella…heee again so many questions, all will be answered in time. And…who said the fic was over when they regain their memories? I have A LOT in store for our favorite transgenics. Just hang in there!
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Chapter 12: Smackdown
He had taken the ring first, bouncing around like a kid hyped up on sugar, trying to rid himself of the anxious feeling that has settled in his stomach. If he wouldn't be mocked, 494 would quit right here…though maybe being mocked wouldn't be as bad as feeling like I'm going to throw up.
Licking his lips, 494 doesn't have long to contemplate bolting before she appears. Dressed in black pants and a tight black tank top, 452 jumps onto the edge of the ring, pushes the ropes aside, enters the ring…
…and pauses.
She stares at him. He's wearing just a pair of loose training shorts, chest bare, looking at her, confused.
A cage, not a ring.
People -- lots of them, screaming.
"You wouldn't take a dive. Now I'm going to have to beat your ass myself."
She shakes her head slightly; that wasn't a dream -- that was a memory. Like the one before it, 452 can feel it, as if it just happened yesterday.
"Now I'm going to have to beat your ass myself."
She doesn't know why she did it, but something was screaming at her to test him, to see if he has the same memory. He responds almost without thinking…
"What do you have against me making money?"
494 stands, stunned for a moment. Where had that come from? He looks around to see if anyone else observed the odd exchange, but it seems that his transgenic brethren are too busy placing bets on them.
A cage. An announcer. Lots of people, dressed well, hooting and hollering at them.
"What do you have against me making money?" he asked her.
Someone…the announcer, asks her name.
494 tilts his head at 452, as she looks at him with a perplexed expression on her face. What is her name? She has one…
"She doesn't have a name. You know what? She's not here. She's not fighting," he spits back at the announcer.
She gives him a defiant look. "Oh yes, I am."
He's so close to remembering something important -- it's right there. All he can do is stare into her dark eyes and press his usually infallible memory. And then the ringmaster's voice cuts through his thoughts.
"Ready? Fight!"
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She's tired. Really, really tired. 452 is about ready to just hit the mat and call it a fight. But a good solider doesn't do that…ever. So she squares her shoulders and blocks yet another of 494's punches. Apparently he's over the whole not-being-able-to-hit-me thing.
They had been going at it for nearly twenty minutes, each getting in some good, solid blows, not enough to cause serious damage, but enough to stun the other person. She is currently sporting a split lower lip, and he has a matching wound above his left eye.
SHIT!
She ducks a fist and returns in kind, making contact with his hard stomach muscles. She can hear him exhale harshly.
With every punch that goes by, she can hear the crowd getting louder and louder. They want a winner. And she wants this to end.
From her crouched position, she bolts upright, bringing a fist into the bottom of his jaw. 494 staggers backward, and she attacks again, getting in a flurry of blows to his head and chest. But he just won't go down. Stepping back, she is about to go after him again, when a solid foot catches her in the abdomen and propels her backwards across the ring, coming to a stop when she hits the ropes.
Gasping, she slides down; the wind has been knocked out of her, along with the fight. Looking up, she sees 494 towering over her. Instead of looking happy that he won, he looks…sad. The ringmaster comes over and raises his hand, announcing him the winner in the longest fight yet.
He grins at the crowd for a moment, relishing in the win before looking down at the woman still sitting on the ring floor. She looks…beat down, for lack of a better term.
After several minutes, once most of the crowd has cleared out or are busy collecting winnings, 494 kneels in front of her, and pushes some hair behind her ear that had come loose from her braid.
"Come on," he says, and reaches out a hand to help her up.
Initially she eyes him with skepticism, before placing her small hand in his, and accepting the assistance. As she regains some footing, he helps her out of the ring and heads towards the shower area, one strong arm wrapped around her midsection for support. As they walk, he can feel her start to gain some strength back, pulling away from him slightly, but never leaving his embrace.
There is an air of tension surrounding them, neither wanting to discuss what happened before the fight. Manticore had done something to them, to their memories. 494's emotions run rampant; he is feeling, anger, resentment, confusion, and fear, unequivocal fear of retribution.
"Maybe we were on the same mission that went sideways," she says, breaking him from his thoughts.
"Yeah, a mission," he agrees, with more confidence than he feels. But if these are just mission memories, why do they have such an emotional side to them? "Let's get you to the showers -- you could really use one."
"Thanks. But I think I'm good now -- I can walk myself."
To prove her point, she pulls out from his arms and stands steadily.
"Good, see you for the morning run."
"Yeah. Good night, 494."
"'Night."
He turns and walks away from her, determined to figure out what's going on, without tipping off the brass. Again his subconscious is telling him to keep their little memory recall to himself, and he heeds its warning.
Mole has been following the rat transhuman for over a day now, and aside from some dubious hygiene habits, he is beginning to wonder if there's anything at all wrong with the guy. Jason has done what every other transgenic has done: gone to his duty station, done his job, ate, slept and started all over. The only difference is that Jason seemingly has no friends within Terminal City. He keeps to himself, rarely talking to anyone unless he is approached first.
Mole is about to give up, when the little critter slips behind a dumpster on the outskirts of TC and the lizard can hear him talking, probably on a cell phone since Mole can detect no one else in the area.
Standing stock still, he attempts to listen in on the conversation.
"NO!" He can hear Jason, but not the other person on the phone. "You promised….Yeah, it's here, but what good does it do me?……Fine, but you better hold up your end of the bargain. You promised me, if I get found out here I'm as good as dead…..Yeah. Goodbye."
By the time he hears the phone close, Mole is so infuriated he could rip the smaller man to shreds. Instead, he waits for Jason to walk toward him before stepping out from his hiding spot around the corner, stopping the other transhuman in his tracks.
"Bang, you're dead," he says calmly, and points his ever present shotgun literally at the rat's heart.
tbc…………this one is kinda short, so probably you'll get another chapter sooner than later. Depending on the work schedule. Sigh. Dang work.