James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.
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Returning to the Old RoutineThe gentle beeping of the alarm clock coming from the closed bedroom reminded Alec that he should look busy. He'd been in the middle of cleaning his Barret sniper rifle when his mind had once again begun to wander, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings of a clean kitchen. It had taken Keri three days to clean up the dirty, battered apartment, but she had been insistent. She assured Alec that there was no way she could concentrate on her training when she was surrounded by a disaster area of a home. Well, at least she's well-ordered, Alec told himself. What he hadn't expected was the eerie rapport that had developed between them by the time Keri finished her cleaning and redecorating project.
Alec felt more comfortable with her than he'd felt with anyone in a long time. Not since… He cut off that avenue of thought immediately and turned back to the task at hand. He shined his penlight down the long barrel of the weapon, his eyes poring over the bored metal, checking for any sign of wear and tear, any barely perceptible cracks or scratches. As he'd expected, it was fine.
The rifle was completely reassembled by the time Keri opened the bedroom door and tenuously stepped out into the living room, glancing over at him with her typical incredulous morning glare. "Seriously, this whole not sleeping thing is weird," she told him. "I've been here for a week and you've slept a grand total of maybe six or seven hours. It's not good for you."
"I'll be fine," Alec assured her, just as he had the day before, and the day before that. "I've already told you about a dozen times – I just don't sleep much. Never have, and I guess I never will."
"You're a bit of a freak if you ask me," Keri responded with a playful grin. Despite her simple teasing intent, Alec was not amused.
"Don't ever call me that," he told her caustically, stopping her dead in her tracks as she looked at him with alarm.
"What? What did I say?" She looked so innocent, so abashed, that Alec almost felt bad for using the tone of voice he had.
"Freak," he spat. "Don't ever call me that. In fact, don't ever even say that word. Okay?"
"Okay." Alec noticed her take an almost imperceptible fraction of a step back; he knew he'd frightened her, and he felt strangely fine with that. As long as she gets the message…
"Anyway, you'd better get out there for your run," he told her, his voice suddenly calm, almost friendly. "We have a lot to do today."
"Sure," she muttered.
Alec's mood changed immediately, and he found himself incredibly proud of his new protégé. They were four days into training, and Keri had gone from a waitress with no exceptionally intense workout regimen to a woman who now ran eight miles a day, followed that with weight training, and then rounded out her workout with some aerobics and martial arts. He knew her body had to be aching all over, that her feet were covered with blisters, and that the simple act of getting out of bed and walking into the living room was likely more agonizing than anything she had ever experienced; but she did it, and without a word of complaint. Just as she'd promised him, she was smart enough to do what he told her without question.
"You gonna join me this morning?"
"No, I already went running," Alec lied. The truth was that he simply assumed that he would be able to run eight miles in record time if he ever had to, though it had been years since he'd pushed his body with any real training. He'd decided long ago that it was enough to rely on his transgenic enhancements to get him by. Lydecker would have called me lazy, he admitted to himself. I'd just say I'm practical. No reason to spend all that time training. It's unnecessary.
"You gonna teach me how to use that when we're done with the workouts today?" Keri added, looking at the huge rifle that lay on the table.
"We'll see," he told her. "I might start you with an AR-15 or something else first. Smaller, less recoil."
"You don't think I can handle that?"
"Don't know," Alec responded. "But I don't think starting you with a Barret is much smarter than starting a 16-year old with a Ferrari as his first car."
"Point taken," Keri said, relenting. Alec liked how she always relented. He'd been worried that once they started she would start acting like she knew best how to proceed with her training. Thankfully, that was not the case.
"What time do I have to beat today?" she asked him, seemingly unafraid of the daunting task of besting her running time every day, no matter how sore she became.
"1 hour, 12 minutes, 37 seconds."
"Then I'll see ya in 1 hour, 11 minutes."
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Alec stood in the entryway of his apartment, taking only a brief moment to realize that Keri had failed her test. He strode into the living room and settled his gaze on her, sitting right at the edge of the couch.
"You moved."
"No I didn't," Keri protested. "You told me to sit right here until you got back. "I'm still at the same spot on the couch."
"My instructions were a bit more specific than that," Alec chided softly, more disappointed than angry. "I let you get into as comfortable a position as you wanted, and I told you not to move until I got back. I told you that under no circumstances were you to move; no matter what happened or how long I was gone."
"And I'm right here where you left me," Keri pointed out, though her tone let Alec know her effort was only for show. She knew full well that she'd failed.
"I was gone for just over thirty hours," Alec continued. "There isn't a wet spot on the couch, so I know you at least moved to go to the bathroom."
"Didn't think you'd want me messing up your furniture."
"There's a new couch getting delivered today," he answered. "On the off chance that you'd done as you were told. The pillow at the other end of the couch is moved, too. You laid down to sleep."
"Sorry."
"I was telling you just two days ago that your training with the sniper rifle is about far more than just being a good shot."
"Which I am."
"Yes, you're an excellent shot," Alec admitted. "But being a sniper is a state of mind. You have to be patient, and not like normal people are patient. You have to be obsessive about it. You have to be willing to sit on a couch without moving for thirty hours if that's what you need to do to get your shot. You have to be willing to urinate on yourself. You have to be able to fight off sleep for the entire duration. You have to block out everything but the shot that will end your period of immobility. You understand?"
"Yes."
"Good." Alec remembered his time in Gillette, how Lydecker would treat his charges when they'd made a mistake similar to Keri's. It was not a pleasant memory; and while Alec refused to visit upon his protégé the same kind of cruel incentives encouraging perfection, he likewise had to admit that negative reinforcement could be a potent motivator. "Go for your run," he told her. "But go through the course twice."
"That's sixteen miles."
"I know."
"I got, like, maybe four hours of sleep last night."
"You weren't supposed to get any sleep last night."
"So this is punishment?"
"You think you deserve to be rewarded?"
Keri's defeated look was all the answer Alec needed. She walked directly to the door, avoiding eye contact as she grabbed her sweatshirt off the closet doorknob as she left.
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"Good morning, sunshine," Alec said with a grin, locking gazes with his prisoner.
"It's not morning," Ames responded weakly. His voice no longer contained any arrogance; gone was the bravado, the superiority, and the ironclad resolve that had been so ever-present during Ames White's time of freedom. Alec had seen to that.
Three times a day for three straight days he had visited the Familiar and tortured him until he passed out from the pain. The first day had been the toughest, when Ames was still full of spit and vinegar, when he was still willing to endure more pain in silence rather than give his captor the satisfaction of a wince or moan, no less a scream. That had changed, eventually, as Special Agent Ames White had learned firsthand some of the punishments the transgenics had experienced back at Manticore. Lydecker had always had a soft spot for 'his kids,' but some of the other instructors had allowed themselves to be more lavish in their doling out of discipline. Alec had always hated those particular men and women – soldiers and scientists who seemed to delight in devising methods of actually hurting a transgenic. Now Alec used many of their techniques on his captive, trying not to dwell on how much he'd picked up over the years and just how easy he found it to inflict agony on another.
The first session had been a plain and simple beating as Alec allowed himself the satisfaction of smacking White's grin right off his face. The hard part had been showing enough restraint to avoid breaking his jaw or giving him a concussion. He needed White coherent and able to communicate. Interrogation would ultimately be rather pointless, otherwise.
The second session had introduced White to the experience of having every bone in his left hand broken, one at a time, under the fairly precise force of a ball-peen hammer. Alec had to admit that he'd been impressed by White's strength of will during that session – even after two compound fractures in his index finger and with his hand a bruised, bloody, mangled mess, he kept his composure. He didn't pass out from the pain, he didn't beg for mercy, and he didn't look away from his injuries. That was the one and only session Alec considered a failure.
By the time he'd gone in for his next session eight hours later, though, Alec was satisfied with his progress. Ames was definitely a little woozy from the pain and he was consciously struggling against going into shock. Alec had cleaned up the Familiar and set the fingers in splints. The sole exception was the index finger – Alec wasn't sure he'd be able to prevent infection at the fracture points, so he simply cut the digit off and sewed up the wound. The pain was enough to cause Ames to pass out, and Alec had been left in silence to patch up his prisoner enough to ensure he'd be as strong as possible for the start of the second day.
That second day was Alec's favorite. Three excruciating, hour-long sessions of electro-shock therapy ground down Ames' will. Alec had always been fond of electricity, due to the fact that the human body was unable to deal effectively with that particular stimulus. Even fairly innocuous, low-voltage shocks over-loaded human pain receptors, causing the subject to feel he was experiencing far more electricity than he actually was. That allowed the transgenic to zap his captive repeatedly, holding back from serious jolts until he was ready to wrap up the session.
By the time the third day came along, White was already a fraction of his former self. He still talked the talk, but Alec doubted he could walk at all. With the exhausted Familiar's pain receptors still screaming from the previous day's activities, Alec undertook the final course in his three-day physical torture program – burn day. The morning started with fire, the afternoon brought cold, and the late-night acid and alkaloid session gave Ames his first real experience with chemical burns. Then had come the worst part.
Alec dragged White from the makeshift torture chamber and into the carefully constructed interrogation room, strapping him into a small steel chair that was hardly large enough to accompany the Familiar's rump. The seat was slanted slightly toward the right so that Ames was constantly sliding, ever so slowly, toward the floor. It was designed to be uncomfortable, to make it impossible for the individual to center his weight. It was also too short, pretty much forcing the user to keep his feet on the floor, which was the last thing Ames wanted – the floor around the chair was charged, and he received an electric shock every time he made contact with the tiles.
Alec strapped his prisoner into the chair, adjusting the armrests so that they were at just the right height to allow Ames to fall out of the chair and onto the floor. Then he left, setting the lights in the room to flash, blindingly bright, every fifteen seconds. That was how he left the Familiar for two days. He then visited shortly to hook Ames up to an I.V. that provided fluids and nutrients; it would keep the Familiar alive but was nowhere near enough to allow him to start recovering.
On the third day in the interrogation room, Alec started blaring the sound of an infant's cries over the speakers. Human beings were hard-wired to react to that sound; any other sound in the environment could be blocked out – the rumble a train near a house, frequent emergency vehicle sirens, traffic from an adjacent highway – but no matter how often an infant cried, no human being could become acclimated to the sound. It was a primal drive that all humans – even the Familiars – retained from the earliest days of their evolutionary development. While such a drive served a very obvious practical purpose, it also provided Alec with the stimulus he needed to continually prevent Ames from sleeping. The strobes flashed and the infant screamed, over and over, each one alternating with the other, for days. All to build up to this, Alec thought happily.
"Good morning sunshine," Alec repeated, ignoring the Familiar's protestations about the time of day.
"Good morning," Ames answered, this time giving Alec exactly what he wanted. That was the chip in the wall, the weakness Alec needed. He knew what Ames was thinking: that relenting on such a small issue was no big deal, that it was fine to agree it was morning when he was certain – for no rational reason, given the fact that he hadn't seen the sky for days – that it was actually night. He's telling himself that he can say whatever he wants as long as he doesn't give me any important information, Alec knew. And he's doing it even though he knows in his heart of hearts that this concession is just the first, that giving in that first time will make it easier next time, and the time after that. He's breaking, and he no longer has the strength of will to care. Alec just hoped he would get what he needed in time. The situation in Terminal City had just grown unexpectedly unstable, and Alec knew for the first time that he was on a time limit.
"Are you ready to give me what I want yet?" Alec asked, knowing the answer before he received it.
"Fuck you," Ames mumbled, almost incoherently. Alec had turned off the strobes and the speakers when he'd gone in, and he noted that in the mere seconds he'd been in the room, White had already just about fallen asleep.
"No, we don't want that," he muttered, walking over to the I.V. drip behind the chair. He took a syringe out of his pocket and injected LSD into the tube, knowing that would help to break down the Familiar that much faster. A little hallucination never hurts, he decided. It'll be that much harder to resist if he's not sure what's real and what isn't. I can't even begin to imagine the kinds of tricks his mind is about to play on him. "Nighty-night," Alec commented with a grin as he walked away toward the door.
He'd better break pretty soon, Alec told himself as he turned the strobes and speakers back on. He's taking his sweet time giving in, and I only have one more card to play. I'd hate to have to get really mean.
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Alec gathered himself to dart across the street, half-hoping that he wouldn't be able to make it to the restaurant entrance just a dozen yards away. He knew that Keri was watching the street from somewhere above him. Her instructions had been simple – take him out when he left from 304 Gates Blvd. Of course, this being a training exercise, 'take him out' meant shoot him with one of the ink gel rounds she had loaded in her rifle. They wouldn't kill, but they'd sting like hell – the gel capsules were set at the top of a live round, so they left the muzzle at close to the same velocity as an actual bullet. And while Alec hated the thought of getting hit, he knew that for Keri to demonstrate proficiency with her sniper rifle – and show Alec that he'd trained her well – he'd have to endure a little pain.
He'd given her no time frame, expecting her to settle in and take as long as was necessary. She'd learned patience, and she'd also proven herself to be a natural with the rifle. Her eye-hand coordination was superb, and she had a knack for locating environmental clues indicating wind direction and speed. Now she had only to show that she could maintain full concentration for an extended period of time and react within the blink of an eye. He'd kept her waiting half the day and well into the night; sunrise was only an hour away, and Alec had to decide whether to leave now and take advantage of the last remnants of darkness, or take the advantage of a longer wait but make his move during the daylight.
Or maybe I'll try something else entirely, he thought, another strategy popping into his mind unexpectedly. It's not quite fair, but then many of the people we'll run up against won't be playing fair, either.
Alec reached into his bag and took out his nightvision binoculars, slowly scanning the rooftops across the street for the slightest sign of his would-be executioner. This would probably have been a lot easier with some daylight, he decided, taking a few moments to wonder whether he should just wait until daybreak, when he could take full advantage of sunlight. No, nighttime offers the best cover.
Alec had just about given up when he found something out of place. He couldn't see Keri, but he could see a shadow that looked just the slightest bit irregular. Either she's right there, just out of view, or there's another light farther back on the roof, causing the restaurant's exhaust fan to cast its shadow differently than I'd expect. He weighed the possibilities and decided to take a chance.
Within a few minutes Alec had donned his black sweatshirt to go along with his black cargo pants and made his way out the back door. He walked two blocks down, and then circled all the way around to Keri's back, scaling the wall of the building that she was using for cover. He quickly checked the lighting and noted that there weren't any additional lights; an equally quick scan of the rooftop revealed Keri's position. Damn good hiding place, Alec noted with approval. An old chimney – sealed off before the Pulse when the restaurant below went from gourmet to short-order – had partially crumbled, and Keri had wedged herself underneath it, using the mound of rubble to obscure her shape and the long rifle in her hands.
Alec was a ghost, gliding soundlessly over the sagging rooftop until he was only ten feet away from his apprentice. He momentarily considered running up and saying, "Boo!" in her ear, but settled for a more professional coup. "Bang, you're dead," he said joylessly, disappointed in a victory that meant his student had lost.
The automatic response was a slicing pain that cut into the back of his right shoulder, causing him to drop his pistol. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," Keri chided from behind him. Alec whirled and settled his gaze on her – she looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.
"What the --"
"Silly rabbit," she said with a smirk. "Tricks are for strippers with sniper rifles."
She set me up, he marveled silently. While he was amazed at her foresight and cunning, though, he was also irritated. "Nice trap, but what if I had just walked out the front door like I told you I would?"
"But you didn't do that, did you?" Keri shot back, still seeming amused despite her teacher's rebuke.
"But what if I did?"
"And what if night was day and up was down?"
"Huh?"
"If you just walked into the scope of a rifle you knew was waiting, then you wouldn't be Alec," she told him, suddenly sounding every bit the teacher rather than the apprentice. "You said that we'll get dossiers on our targets, that we have to study them and choose the best time and place for our hits, right?"
"Yeah, that's right," Alec confirmed, seeing exactly where Keri was going with her reasoning.
"So I know you, and I know your tendencies," she explained, saying just what he expected. "And you're not one to play the victim."
"I guess not," Alec admitted glumly.
"I would have been by the chimney if you'd been someone else; but you were you, so I set you up."
"And I walked right into it…" Alec muttered, trying to figure out if he was more proud of Keri, or humiliated at his own failure. If Lydecker were alive to see this, he would have put a bullet in my skull for being so careless. And I would have deserved it…
"So I passed, right?"
"Of course."
"So I get to go with you on your next job?"
"Yup."
"Cool."
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"Can you see me?" Alec asked into the sub-vocal microphone he was wearing in his ear.
"Stand by," Keri's voice came to him in reply. "That truck behind you is obstructing my view." A moment passed as the rented moving truck pulled away down the alley, and then she continued. "Yeah, I got ya."
"I'm planning on using this door as my exit, too," he told her needlessly. We've been over this plan about a hundred times, he reminded himself. You wouldn't have taken her on as an apprentice if you thought she'd need you to repeat basic stuff like that at the last minute.
"Understood."
"See you in a few," he added as he opened the door adjacent to the rear delivery dock and walked inside. His target had only been identified as Mr. Brett Hahneman, importer-exporter. Alec knew that all but certainly meant he was involved in smuggling and likely had ties to organized crime. The security inside the building had not backed up that theory, though. While Hahneman had several armed guards, there were no alarm systems, dogs, or cameras. The hit would actually be as simple as walking in, shooting the man, and walking back out.
A burly man in a sweat-stained Hawaiian shirt glared at Alec as soon as he walked in, and not to be deterred, Alec walked right up to him. "Hi, I'm Michael Collins from the Aegis Corporation," Alec said smoothly, producing with a flourish one of the business cards he had printed up the night before. "I'm here about security cameras."
"We don't have security cameras," the burly man said, his breath stinking of the stale beer he'd drank the night before. "Get lost."
"I know you don't have security cameras," Alec responded, seemingly oblivious to the other man's attempt at an intimidating stare. "That's why I'm here. I was told that a Mr. Hahneman wanted to speak to a representative of my company, Mr. … umm…"
"Gregg," the guard replied. "I'm just Gregg, and I didn't hear anything about you."
"Oh, and are you Mr. Hahneman's secretary?" Alec asked, knowing his question would piss off the guard. "If you could let him know I'm here, Gregg, that would be great."
"Are you trying to get him to hit you?" Keri asked over the com. Alec grinned.
"You think you're pretty funny, huh?" Gregg asked Alec, poking him in the chest with his forefinger.
"Not at all," Alec answered, trying to suppress a chuckle. "I was just reminded – for no particular reason, mind you – of an amusing anecdote a friend of mine was telling last evening."
"Huh?"
"An anecdote," Alec repeated. "A short story pertaining to one's personal life. For example, there was this one time, in band camp…"
"Shut up and get out," the man growled.
"Am I to take it that you're not going to announce me?"
"That's right."
"But I have an appointment."
"I know all of the boss's appointments, and you're not on the list," Gregg said threateningly. "Now I suggest you --" The last words were lost as the man gasped for breath through a shattered trachea.
"Took you long enough," Keri groused from her rooftop outside. "He was really starting to bug me."
"Cut the chatter," Alec warned her. He chalked her talkativeness up to expected nervousness, but also decided he should explain again how the com should be for emergencies only. He doubted there was anyone monitoring frequencies inside this low-grade target's warehouse, but in the future it might be a different story.
He walked farther into the building, silently strangling two guards as he went, until he reached Hahneman's office. He could hear someone – he guessed it was his target – talking on the phone. Alec waited for the conversation to end, and then knocked softly on the door as he opened it. "Hi, are you Mr. Hahneman?"
"Who wants to know?" Alec noted the man's hand slowly move below the desk, presumably toward a weapon of some kind. At least he's smart enough to know I probably shouldn't have gotten this far without any of his guards alerting him.
"My name's Michael Collins, from the Aegis Corporation." He started to produce another business card, only to have Hahneman draw a .357 Magnum and point it at his head. "Oh shit," he said in the meekest, most deferential voice he could muster. "I'm just getting a card, sir. I'm not… I don't have a… Oh, shit."
"How the fuck did you get back here?" Hahneman asked suspiciously.
"I spoke to Gregg outside," Alec responded, still playing the part of a weakling. "My boss arranged for this appointment. Gregg said it was okay to come back here."
"Oh, Gregg said," Hahneman answered sarcastically. "I wonder if Gregg is aware that he's just a hired thug…" Hahneman looked his guest over coolly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Collins, but not only does Gregg not have the authority to schedule appointments for me, as of right now he's not even in my employ anymore."
Actually, he stopped being in your employ about a minute and a half ago, Alec replied silently.
"I don't know how much your boss paid Gregg to get a meeting, but the money was wasted. Now if you'll please leave."
"Of course," Alec said as he took a few cautious steps back.
"I won't shoot you in the back," Hahneman said, seeming thrilled with the feeling that he had Alec thoroughly terrified. "Trust me."
He started to lower the weapon, and Alec struck. The transgenic's right arm was a blur as he drew his 10mm and fired a single round straight through the middle of Hahneman's forehead. He immediately heard approaching footsteps, and fired off the rest of his clip as quickly as he could, putting nine more rounds into the target's body. Overkill, Alec remembered. The employer wants overkill. No open casket for friends and family. He was out the door just in time to run into a blaze of gunfire from two more guards. Alec dove for cover, and then was off and running toward the rear exit.
"Hope you're ready out there," he shouted, knowing that Keri was doubtlessly more than ready. The only thing that remained to be seen was whether any qualms about killing would affect her aim.
Alec ran back the way he came, dashing out onto the loading dock. The two men followed, and Alec whirled and took aim. A thick red mist exploded where the head of the man on the right used to be, and Alec cut down the second one before Keri had a chance to make it two-for-two.
"Thanks," he said into the com. "See ya back home."
"Yeah, see ya," Keri said, a hint of uneasiness in her voice. Yup, that was the first time she ever killed someone, Alec knew. He'd suspected that she had never taken a life, but he had never asked. He knew Keri had been curious about that oversight, but he'd found the question to be useless. People often lied, for one reason or another, when asked whether they'd ever killed. And now for Keri the matter is settled. No denials or false claims of bravado are necessary.
To be continued……………………………………