Disclaimer: The Elements, they belong to me. The idea came from the episode "Exposure" where Max encounters that telekinetic boy who can move things with his mind. If the Conclave could breed someone like that, I have no doubt in my mind that the Elements are plausible.
"Fudgy Buddy" was a snack that White bought in "Dawg Day Afternoon." Don't worry; I always double-check my facts before writing.
Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait (well, depending on your definition of long). I just returned from China a few days ago and was extremely jetlagged. It was an amazing trip, by the way, and I highly recommend anyone to visit it.
After that, I had a serious case of dreaded Writer's block and lethargy, don't worry— I got over it fast.
The Gift of Daylight
Chapter 4: Daylight Fading
Location: Fudgy Buddy Factory in Seattle, Washington.
Time: 7:10 PM PST
The stealthy footsteps came around the corner ten meters away and continued towards him; and Oz, pressed painfully back into the slightly recessed doorway that was the only cover for those same ten meters, abandoned the faint hope that his pursuers would miss him and prepared for the eventual fight.
The footsteps were getting closer. It would be just his luck, Oz thought sourly, to be taken in by a fake pair of rogue X5's, only to be used as prey in a sick practice routine in the end. They had gotten the rest of his team, a makeshift group of captured transgenics set loose in this hell house of a training facility. They had hunted each of them like animals, one by one — and now they were coming for him.
And then, maybe five meters away, the footsteps abruptly stopped … and in the sudden silence he heard a stifled breath.
He'd been spotted.
Without hesitation, the blue transgenic pushed off the wall he was leaning against and drew the firearm he was given. He squeezed off a few bullets at the approaching young man. The boy's face wasn't visible in the dim lighting but Oz could make out the abnormally muscular physique for a boy his age and height. By the way the bullets didn't seem to faze him at all, Oz guessed that there was much more to this boy than visible.
The figure charged at him at a startlingly rapid speed for someone as heavy as him. Oz easily rolled out of the way and swung his foot forward with all his might. His boot made contact with the boy's side, and the other grunted in anger. Oz saw his chance to escape and turned around to make a wild dash for the open door that was no more than five meters away.
He could almost feel the warm sunlight on his face before a sharp pain cut through his thoughts and jolted up through his spine. He felt his vision blur as he hit the ground with a soft thud. Ignoring the cries of his body, the transgenic spun around to face his attacker. It was a … girl, a teenage girl from the looks of it. Behind her approached the enormous boy, and another skinny boy who had blood stained on his shirt. The girl approached Oz nonchalantly. "Sorry about this," she announced regretfully. "Nothing personal, I hope you know."
Oz opened his mouth but choked on his words as her hand shot forward and grasped him tightly by the neck. His own hands shot up in an attempt to wrench hers off, but it was to no avail. The girl's grip was solid steel. She was probably two-thirds his size, but here he was, being held off the ground by one hand. As tears welled up in his eyes, Oz heard a sickening snap.
He saw daylight for a brief moment. Then darkness.
On the second floor of the warehouse, Ames White clapped unenthusiastically. He was leaning against the railing and wearing a sick grin on his face.
Reeve clicked a button on the stopwatch. "25:10," he announced loudly, letting the echo carry his voice to the three kids below. "That's a new record." The numbers were scribbled down on a notebook, which contained a list of other times. "Zack?" he turned around to face the silent blond X5.
This was Zack's twelfth exercise with the group, and each and every time, he fell into a deep silence until it was all over. It took some adjustment at first, but the carnage never sent Zack into the kind of shock an ordinary person would experience. He had a few flashbacks of his childhood in the beginning, but memories and doubts aside, he had voluntarily assumed the rank of group leader. A position he was made for.
His jaw was solidly set and his piercing eyes betrayed no emotion as he overlooked the entire area below him. The change in his posture was also notable. Zack looked much more intimidating now, his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of the black leather jacket he was wearing, emphasizing his impressive build. This wasn't the farm boy they had picked up a few days ago.
This was a soldier.
"Poor evasion tactics, Davis," Zack declared dully. "What have I told you about using your arms to divert incoming bullets?"
Davis was the muscular boy with unruly dark brown hair and soft green eyes. His body didn't suit his gentle personality and seemed entirely too big for him. He lowered his head. "Sorry Zack, I forgot," he affirmed earnestly.
"Seth, the entire beheading thing was entirely needless. Not to mention messy," Zack continued, ignoring Davis. Seth was the pale skinny boy with black hair and what looked like black eyes, but what was probably the darkest shade of brown. He was gaunt, thin, and sickly looking. "Worst of all, you got the floor dirty and ruined your shirt," Zack finished.
Seth licked his lips maliciously and nodded in acknowledgement. He was the never-to-talk type. The boy had never said a word in his life. Many in the Conclave settled on the fact that he was mute. Seth didn't say a word to argue that theory.
"Rianne—" Zack called.
Rianne snapped to attention.
"For the last time. You're not suppose to apologize to your target before you terminate," the tone Zack used was half irritated and half amused.
"Yes, sir," she said sullenly.
"But overall, very proficient, gang. I like how the three of you used the cornering tactic we practiced. Besides that last one who got separated from his group, it secluded the rest of the prey in a convenient environment before elimination. We just need to work on accuracy. Dismissed."
The three kids, all awkward looking dressed in their now dirty military clothes nodded in acknowledgement and started toward their separate ways. Davis was picking at the bloody holes in his body and removing the bullets out of his skin like lint off clothes, Seth was stroking his chin thoughtfully as he stalked off towards the cleaning room to get changed, and Rianne turned around to run a critical eye over the man she had just murdered in cold blood. She didn't show a hint of regret, only a childlike curiosity at her handiwork.
"Rianne, I need to talk to you for a moment."
The girl snapped to attention and looked up at her commanding officer, who was standing a floor above her. By now, Zack had gotten used to dealing with these three very … unique kids. Rianne stomped one foot on the floor and kicked off the ground easily. She ascended upwards in a graceful fashion, as if she were as light as paper. Rianne levitated over the railing easily, and before long, she stood silently beside an awaiting Zack.
"Okay, now about your battle mechanics …" Zack's voice trailed off as the two of them walked together towards the cafeteria, leaving Reeve and White alone.
Besides the hum of the lights, it was entirety quiet.
White adjusted his tie. "What do you think?" he asked into the silence.
Reeve had been adamantly staring at his stopwatch and the notebook the entire time. He wanted to avoid the messy scene below at all costs. "Send for the cleaning crews, we're done in here," he spoke into the walkie-talkie before latching it back onto his belt.
The warehouse lights flashed to life and revealed the extent of the destruction. Cleaning crews poured from seemingly everywhere onto the first floor of the warehouse to remove corpses and wipe the area clean. It was like a movie stage, except the blood was real. And so was the death.
"Um, impressive?" he replied hesitantly. Reeve looked nauseated as one of janitors extracted an arm. "Though I'm not likely to randomly pull someone's head off with my bare hands like that kid did. But— that's just me of course."
"More like incredible," White retorted in a triumphant tone. He ignored Reeve's second statement, as it had no bearing to White's original question. In all honesty, White found the beheading gruesome himself, if not fascinating. "It's a shame they're horrible with firearms. It's the trade-off for their … other talents."
"Their bodies are their weapons, as we've seen … over … and over again. They'll be fine and you know it," he assured quietly. "Which one isn't a true Element again?" this time his voice was louder, he had to talk over the chatter of the cleaning crews below.
"The really pale one," White replied, "Seth."
"That's right, he doesn't really fit in with the other two. I think he's missing a few screws or something."
"He's an efficient killer," White defended. "And besides, the Element he's replacing is out of commission and permanently removed from this mission. She's been comatose for months."
"Wait, what the hell was strong enough to put an Element into a coma?" Reeve paused scribbling for a moment to look up. He was, frankly, very interested to hear White's response to this one.
White examined the scene below for a few seconds, and then looked up at Reeve. His face betrayed no emotion and Reeve's question slipped off him like water on wax. "We're set to deploy at 0400 hours," he continued coolly. "We're instructed to serve as backup. I'm providing air support, you're with the group when they infiltrate."
"In other words, I'm going to get shot at. And you'll safely be in a helicopter." Reeve replied cynically.
"In other words," White stated, impatient as ever, "as the X5's keeper, you're to stay with him at all times. Or have you forgotten your promise?"
"Don't be ridiculous, of course I haven't."
"Good. That's our briefing. The Priestess was, naturally, short for words." White reached into his pocket to extract a small list of cities and dates beside them. His gaze stopped at the top of the list. "Hm, great," he mumbled brightly, folding the piece of paper and slipping it back into his pocket. "Let me show you something," White suggested, breaking into a quick walk.
Reeve followed without question, shutting the notebook and pocketing his stopwatch and pen. The two men walked beside each other towards the lounge room where a group of suited familiars were prepared to use the training facility they had just left. When the group exited, White grabbed the remote and switched on the TV.
Reeve raised a brow and stood patiently in place.
"Pay attention," White forcefully jabbed the remote in the direction of the screen. "And listen."
The monitor flickered to life to show a newscast. It was the usual blonde lady that Reeve usually found attractive. But for now, he looked past appearances to listen.
… The mayor had no comment on how to resolve the current tense standoff. He was quoted to say, "no matter the outcome, the city of Seattle places its trust in the United States Government 100%."
Next. Recent mysterious deaths in New York, Dallas, and Boise have stirred rumors inside the FDC's offices. "We have no comment at this time. Until we have pinpointed the causes of death, we would like to warn everyone against bad hygiene." The random deaths were pinpointed to be health related causes with no hinting symptoms. Sectors in the mentioned cities had a dramatic drop in population since last week, and the death toll continues to rise. Many speculate plague, but others dismiss it as a new form of the flu. Channel 5 will keep you updated.
In other news, the Olympic committee has decided The 2024 olympics will be held in …
White shut the TV off and turned to face Reeve, grinning contentedly.
Reeve took an involuntarily step back, and felt something tight catch in his throat. He understood exactly what Ames had showed him him, but still couldn't believe his ears. So soon? Yet here it was, after thousands of years of planning, an irreversible chain of events had been put into motion.
Even with rudimentary sensing abilities, White sensed the ripple of shock go through the other man. "Well?" White asked into the silence.
Reeve looked slightly paler than before and nodded in acknowledgement.
"It's begun."
------------------------------------
Location: Terminal City, Washington.
Time: 9:30 PM PST
"Let me get this straight," she said in an exasperated tone as the three of them walked down an alley. "You tripped on a barrel, landed on the dog, and it ran off in here somewhere?" she stopped in place and waved a hand around the area where many empty cardboard boxes were stacked. Some were folded, others were scattered.
"… Yep, that's exactly what happened," the young kid replied cheerily, as if losing his dog was the best thing that could happen. He looked shorter than he normally was, standing between Max and Dalton.
"But if you landed on the dog, wouldn't you have pinned it down before it ran?" Max asked, raising a brow as she gave the area another quick glance. A frown surfaced on her face as she assessed the situation. This would, most likely, take forever and an hour to solve.
Dalton looked at the puzzled kid and stopped him from talking mid-sentence. "Well Max … Blake here probably just swiped the dog's tail before it took off running," he offered. "Nothing Blake could've done to stop it, isn't that right, Blake?"
"Right," Blake answered. Max could have sworn she heard a hint of relief in his tone.
Max turned around to face the kid, eyeing him suspiciously. She then looked up at Dalton and sighed. "Can't you fix this? I've been running all over the place today. First Mole needs help finding four cartons of bullets, then Gem needs an emergency baby-sitter for Hope, Joshua loses his bottle of flea powder—which, at the end—we found out was a false alarm since he didn't have fleas to begin with. Logan wants to see me later this evening because something 'urgent' came up, and now—"
"—You know I'd love to help, Max," Dalton interrupted.
Max perked up. "Really?"
"But …" he continued, "I'm allergic to dogs. So … no. I'll just sit over here with Blake until you can find—" he paused and looked at Blake.
"Sunny," Blake finished for him.
Max glared at the both of them.
Dalton nodded. "Right. Sunny." A few boxes were picked up and used as temporary seats for the two guys. "Sorry," he offered apologetically to ease the blistering glare she was sending him.
Max just sighed and stole a quick glance at her watch. "Promise me after this you get a leash for him," she said to Blake mock threateningly.
Blake nodded hurriedly. "Yeah Max, definitely."
"Good. I better … start then." With a large groan, Max began rummaging through the stacks of boxes in search of the dog. As expected, it took about two hours of grumbling and digging before Sunny appeared. To everyone's surprise, well, to Max's surprise at least, the dog came running out of the alley they had just passed. Max instantly paled in frustration. "What the—?"
"Oh, there you are, Sunny," Blake announced loudly. "Bad boy," Blake reprimanded. "Well, thanks Max. This won't happen again. Promise." Blake scurried off before Max could exhale, now holding in his hand what looked like two chocolate bars.
"Where did he get—?"
"—Good job, Max," Dalton patted her on the back and nodded. "I knew your super X5 senses could get the job done," he declared confidently. "Don't you have a meeting with Logan at … um, now?"
Max opened her mouth to say something but paused and checked her watch. "Damn. Late."
"I'm sure Logan won't mind," he stated matter-of-factly. "How about I walk you there?" he offered mildly. By the look of it, the sentence was more a statement than a question. He took her by the elbow and led her in the direction of warehouse 7.
"You don't need to. It's not like anyone in Terminal City's going to jump me," she said sarcastically. "Besides, today it seems like everyone's been leading me everywhere," she announced, irritation leaking into her voice. "It's a little weird, don't you think?" as they continued to walk past various buildings, Max ran a critical eye over Dalton, studying his features.
"Um, is that so? Haven't noticed a thing," he replied quickly, idly casting a glance behind his shoulder. "Well, here's VII. I'll catch you later, I need to …" he mumbled something incoherently, "and then after that, I gotta …" his voice trailed off. "So yeah, busy busy. Catch ya later." Dalton started in the other direction quickly before she could say a proper good-bye.
What the hell is up with everyone today? Feeling understandably fatigued, due to the hectic dealings of today, she settled into the nearest chair she could find. It was brought relief to her mildly sore muscles. "Hey Dix, is Logan here?"
The transgenic being questioned was tinkering with something at the moment, standing over a table rusted metal table as he worked. Dix jammed a screwdriver into the Microwave's back panel as she said this. "Oh man," he groaned loudly. "Stabbed right through the power supply. Great, now I've done it. Unless … say Max, would you mind running out to XV and getting me a power supply?" he didn't dare look at her. "I'll come with you too if you want," he offered quickly.
Max could have sworn her body temperature rose a few degrees at those words. "DIX," she repeated very loudly this time. "Is Logan here or not?" the manner in which she posed the question demanded an immediate answer. Max felt instantly guilty for taking out her anger on someone as harmless as Dix. But … hey, he was asking her to walk to the other side of Terminal City after she had ran a million other errands.
Everyone in the room jerked a bit, but only Dix dropped a screwdriver. "Actually, no," he answered timidly. "Mentioned something about getting a processor someone found near II. Said he'd be a little late."
Little was an understatement. When Logan arrived, close to a full hour had passed. When he finally did come, he held something covered in a ragged cloth in his arms. The cloaked item was placed on the table with a clunk.
"You're late," Max pointed out, the words sounding harsher than she intended.
"Oh yeah, sorry about that. Heard someone made a find near warehouse two. It might help Eyes Only get back up and running, so I had to check it out," he replied. "You understand, of course," he dismissed the topic with a quick wave of his hand.
"You're forgiven," she said quickly, feeling the frustration inside of her quell. "So you wanted to see me?" quick to the point, as usual.
"Right, yeah. Can we talk over here?" he walked towards his desk and tapped a key on his laptop to make the screen saver disappear. When the passing stars disappeared, a photo-viewing program appeared. Logan used his mouse to click passed a few pictures, before coming to the shot he wanted. It was promptly enlarged with another click of the button. "This'll only take a second to load," he commented.
Max cringed and leaned against the desk tiredly, mindful to keep her distance from Logan. She tried her hardest to suppress the unpleasant expression she knew was ready to surface as her fingers tapped on the desk's top impatiently.
"Bad day?" Logan inquired from beside her.
"Something like that," she quipped sourly.
"Anything I can do to help?"
"Just don't make it any worse."
"I apologize in advance if I do," he replied, as the photo finished loading. "See this?" he tapped the laptop's screen.
It was a shot of Max's arm and the runes that had surfaced on her skin. By now, she had gotten used to becoming a human textbook, even if she didn't know what the writing on her skin meant. Max had remembered Logan taking the picture a few days ago, she figured now that he had probably translated them. "Yeah, so?"
"Finally translated them," he said gravely, confirming Max's prediction.
"… Why do I have the feeling that I'm not going to like what you're about to tell me?" she stated cautiously, eyeing him.
"Because you're not going to like it at all," he conceded jadedly. Logan tapped a button on his keyboard to replace the photo with a screen of only the said symbols. Below them was a typed out English translation. "This is in continuation to the prophecy from first set of runes I translated a while ago. This should be the end of it," his voice announced cautiously, studying her face as he began to read them out loud.
Max, of course, had already read what was on the screen the second it appeared. A flood of thoughts drowned Logan's voice out.
The guardian of life's betrayal will return the meek to their mother. From dust they came, to dust they will return.
"… to dust they will return," Logan recited the last few words loudly, catching Max's attention in the process.
"And that means … what, exactly?" Max questioned, her eyes connecting solidly with his blues. Ever since the runes had been translated, the pressure on her shoulders infinitely increased. It wasn't just Terminal City that was at stake, as she was told. But rather, the entire human civilization. She ignored the knot in her stomach that had developed as she waited for a response.
Logan was rummaging through the drawers of his desk and finally pulled out— to Max's surprise— a tattered bible. The cover was worn down, but the inside pages were preserved enough so they were readable.
"I think this is a bad time for a sermon," she announced. Apparently when Logan said something 'biblically bad' was going to happen, he wasn't kidding.
"You'll find this enlightening, don't worry." His fingers found a placed bookmark and he flipped to the saved page. "That entire last sentence sounded familiar to me, I knew I had heard it somewhere. Luckily, after some flipping, I found it a few hours ago," the opened bible was held up in front of her face.
"Thank God," she replied cynically. Max avoided touching the book and read the line Logan's finger was resting under. It was, startlingly enough, a variation of what Logan had just translated from her arm. "… for dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return."
"It means death, of course, as does everything else in this damn prophecy," she stated nervously. "All right, so the world's coming to an end, I think we've got that part locked down for a while now. Question is, how is it going to happen and how are we going to stop it?"
Logan snapped the book shut and replaced it in the drawer. "Hm, one problem at a time," he used the mouse to highlight the first part of the prophecy. "The guardian of life's betrayal will return the meek to their mother," he repeated aloud. "Guardian … of … life," each word came out steadily. Logan paused to contemplate this.
"Something that protects people?" Max offered. "Like a weapon of some sort?"
"Maybe, but we're talking about protection in mass quantities here. 'Guardian of life' as in all life, I'm guessing."
"I'll give it some thought later," she replied. "… 'will return the meek to their mother' probably means … death too." There was a lot of death involved here.
"To their mother," Logan emphasized the last word.
"Meek as in regular people I guess …" she said.
"And mother as in …"
"The Earth," someone interrupted from behind. Both of them had been so occupied with the half riddle half clue that they failed to notice Dalton approaching.
"How long have you been standing there?" Max asked in a pressing tone, frowning.
"Not long," he admitted. "I love riddles though, heard something about guardians, and mothers …" his voice trailed off. "So … are you two going to tell me what's going on or will you let curiosity eat away at me until I find out?"
Max and Logan exchanged wary glances. Max was the one to reply. "This is sort of a delicate issue."
Dalton shrugged and ran a hand through his dyed hair. "Ooh, the top secret stuff, huh? Don't worry, I won't tell."
Max paused and sent a questioning look at Logan.
"Well he is good at riddles," Logan offered optimistically.
Still uncertain, Max eventually resigned to telling the young X6 in hopes of getting some help. Any help. "We're … trying to figure out what type of disaster is going to wipe out the planet's population."
Dalton blinked. Twice.
"Oh that's nice. If you didn't want to tell me, you could have just said so," he said with a huff, setting a black bag on the table beside the laptop. "I got your stuff right here, Logan," he motioned to the bag before turning to leave. "Later." And he was gone, leaving Max and Logan staring blankly at each other.
"That was weird," Logan spoke up.
"Yeah," Max agreed.
"Back to this. If 'mother' is earth then it's talking about … death again, yeah, I guess you're right. But most importantly is the 'guardian of life' part. It seems to be the cause of this death. Until we find out who or what it is, we can't stop anything."
"I wish he hadn't written the entire thing in a language we can barely translate, and in a form we can't understand," she announced exasperatedly. "Anything on finding Sandeman?"
"Unfortunately, no. And even if I found him, there's the small task of getting past the military blockade." Logan rubbed his temples in an attempt to relieve some stress.
"So we're on our own," Max deduced.
"Seems so," he said regretfully. "Our best bet is to work with what we have now, and hope that the runes aren't finished appearing on your skin. Speaking of which, if any new ones show up—"
"—You'll be the first to know," she assured him quickly. A virtue that Max lacked was patience, and this entire situation was testing it right now. She hated feeling useless even if she might be the key to saving the human civilization; right now she was a sitting duck. She checked her watch, it was late. "Anything else before I blaze?"
"Hm," Logan gave it some thought. "What happened to Sketchy, OC, Normal, and the rest of them?"
"Finally convinced them that it was safer outside of T.C. Left earlier today in the empty food trucks, I personally saw them get through the blockade. That was right before …" she took a deep breath, ready to recite today's events, "… Mole dragged me into the armory to look for a box of bullets someone lost, babysitting Hope—who, by the way— was really cranky today, trying to find Joshua's flea powder when he didn't really have fleas, helping Dalton help Blake, and … yeah, it's just been a long day," she stopped her rambling at the sight of Logan's amused grin. "It's not funny," she stated flatly.
"I didn't say anything," he replied innocently. "You heading to sleep? That's unlike you."
"No, I'm not really sleepy," she confessed. "But I figure if I hide out in my room, no one else will bug me."
"Sounds like a plan." Logan's attention was diverted to the door, where Zeke's head peeked in.
"Hey Max," Zeke called out. "Hope won't stop bawling, it's driving me crazy! You know I'd feel bad kicking Gem out, so … can I stay with you for a while?"
"No," Max replied, a little too quickly. "I'm staying in one of the labs, lab tables weren't made for sleeping, and they don't exactly fit a lot of people."
"Aw come on! I'll take the floor, I don't snore or anything," he pleaded.
"But I do," Max countered. It was a lie. "Loudly."
"I'll take it over a baby's screeching any day," Zeke replied. "Please? All the other warehouses are full; I'd be stuck sleeping outside on the cold dirt. The guilt will give you nightmares, I swear."
"I doubt it." Nevertheless, Max groaned and jammed her hand into her pocket to extract her room keys. Being a first hand witness to Hope's tantrums, she finally gave in. "Fine, but you get the floor," she tossed the keys at him, "or the counter. Wherever."
He snatched them out of the air and threw her a thumbs-up accompanied with a grin. "You're the best."
When Max turned her back on Zeke, the X6 sent a nod at Logan. Logan sent an approving nod in return before the other disappeared.
"So much for alone time. I miss the space needle."
Logan flinched at the mention of the space needle.
"Oh yeah, forgot you were terrified of heights," she quipped.
"I'm not scared of heights," he retorted, slightly defensive.
She sent him a disbelieving look. "Sure you aren't."
"It's the falling and dying part that makes me nervous," he finished with a grin. "Any word from Clemente?"
"Not yet. He said he would be busy with some important government for the next few days. It probably involves us. I'm guessing he'll fill us in when he calls."
"Ah, okay then. Clemente always comes through," Logan tossed in. "You better head back now, it's late, and you look tired."
"I'm not. But that sounds like a good idea anyway," she admitted.
"I'll keep at this translating business, the fight for the survival of the human race sort of involves me too."
"Gotcha. I hope tomorrow's different, I don't think I could handle another day like today." And she honestly meant it. As helpful as Max liked to be, she wasn't Superwoman. Superwoman, hm …
As if on cue, Alec poked his head in the door. "Hey Max!" he yelled loudly, causing her to cringe.
Tired, disheveled, and cranky, she slowly, very slowly, turned around to face him. "What?" she demanded.
His grin didn't falter, in fact, it widened. "Gotta problem down in XII. If you're not busy, could you help with …"
"—NO."
------------------------------------
Location: Terminal City, Washington.
Time: 1:55 AM PST
It was Alec's turn on watch. Despite all his efforts to dodge it— here he was, in a dim-litted hallway, outside of Max's room, with a blanket and Terminal's City's version of a pillow.
"Well this is just great," he stated sourly as the lights flickered off for the third time since Alec got here. They eventually flickered back on, but Alec was beyond attempting to catch up on sleep at this point. But above all, the labs here smelled of old chemicals, despite the worker drones clean-up effort. Alec would choose his old apartment over this any day.
His back pressed against the cool surface of the wall, shaking some loose paint chips off as he began cursing Logan. "He comes up with this brilliant plan, and everyone else ends up doing the work and getting yelled at by that sadomasochistic—"
"—What brilliant plan?" Max inquired as she walked up the hallway. Her hair and clothes were drenched, and as she approached the sitting Alec, her boots left a trail of water in its wake. "It's ridiculous out there, by the way," she gestured outside, swiping a loose strand of hair away.
Alec blinked. "Wait a minute," he started, "… You aren't in your …" he pointed at the door.
"No," she replied heatedly. "Dix needed me to get some batteries for his microwave at the last minute. He said the 'entire population of Terminal City would suffer from starvation' if not. I think he was just in a hurry to make toast."
"Then who's in …" Alec reached over to bang his fist against the door a few times. A few seconds passed before someone answered.
The door creaked open and Zeke's head popped out, a pair of eye covers blacked out his vision, but they were promptly removed. "What the hell is it?" he asked crankily. Zeke blinked a few times to clear the sleep out of his eyes. "Oh— heh, sorry, didn't know it was you two," he stated meekly. Zeke apologized profusely.
It's HIS watch today? Well that just did it for Alec. "You told me it was my watch," he jabbed a finger accusingly at Zeke. "I've been out here for an hour!"
Zeke blinked. "Did I say that?"
"Whose watch? What?" Max interrupted.
"Yeah, you did," Alec retorted, ignoring Max.
"Um … oops? Yours is tomorrow." Zeke flashed him a nervous smile.
Alec twitched noticeably. "Hey … wait a minute, were you sleeping on the job?"
Zeke flinched.
Miscommunication was one thing, slacking off was a whole different story. If something happened to Max, everything in Terminal City would be screwed. "For an X6, Zeke, you are, by far, one of the WORST soldiers I have ever met, you know that?" he said heatedly.
"Eh … I get that a lot actually," Zeke replied ruefully.
"Whose watch?" Max demanded.
The guys had no time to answer because the lights flickered, and then shut off yet again. "Great," they all said in unison.
Max could see in the dark, so it was no problem, really. It was just inconvenient. She heard a thump, and then a string of muttered curses.
"Ow. This sucks," Zeke said into the darkness. He rubbed his forehead furiously. "Geez, I can't see anything to save my life—"
"—Deal with it," Alec cut in. He had cooled down significantly, and regretted his outburst in the first place. Not only did he predict he'd get his ass kicked by Max, but also by Joshua, Mole, Logan, and the rest of them if she found out. He decided to drop the topic of guard duty right away, and change the subject. "So, um, this must be the longest brown-out yet, right Max?" he asked, with his back to her.
There was another loud thud, a squeak, and some scraping. "Right, Max?" he repeated in the darkness.
Slowly, Alec peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her. The lights flickered back on just then.
She was gone.
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A/N: I feel bad for neglecting Alec, especially when he's my favorite character. Anyway, I'm going to have fun writing the next chapter, lots of death and destruction. Mwahaha. R&R please. =)