Okay here we go, the sequel to New Blood. Hope people will read it and enjoy it as much as the first. It is from the view that Logan survived, so yes he is in this one (I AM NOT A LOGAN HATER! He is a personal friend of mine) A loose beginning but this should be epic...if I can find the time like! Anyways, enjoy and lateroo!

Chapter 1: Two-Way Beginning

Jess fumbled with her keys, her swollen fingers making a simple procedure into a complex nightmare. Fresh blood still tainted her skin and the metal of the door key kept slipping against the almost frictionless liquid.

"Shit!" Jess cried as her keys fell from her hands to the grubby floor of her apartment hallway. Outside, the ferocious wails of fire engines and police vehicles found their way up to Jess's ears. Great, she thought, now the ignorant authorities have discovered the scene of tonight's devastation.

Bending down and scooping up her keys, Jess made a consorted effort to slip the serrated metal into the miniscule lock. Another minute passed and then success, the key slotted into the door with a satisfying click. Jess twisted the key and grimaced as a niggling pain spread up her arm. She growled at herself for turning the key the wrong way and then corrected her mistake, the door finally unlocking and allowing her through.

Stepping into the dark insides, Jess allowed the front door to close of its own accord and didn't bother to hook the latch, it would probably be more hassle than it was worth. Not bothering to turn on the main light either, she made her way to her minute bathroom; one of three separate rooms contained within her newly acquired residence.

Jess pulled on a dangling string and a faint illumination spread through the restricted box of a room. There was a sink, a toilet, a mirror and that was it. The tiled floor was cracked and the wood underneath was soggy and in the process of disintegrating. Jess figured she could get three more months out of the place, her third in as many months, and then she would be forced to leave by the troublesome lack of a floor.

Jess leaned into the mirror that hung on the dirt-smeared wall above her sink. She clenched her teeth as the light above buzzed like a bastard wasp that couldn't take a hint, and inspected her reflection. A swollen left eye that was beginning to resemble the bruised flesh of a plum, a torn lip from which a stream of blood had emerged and trickled down her chin, and sporadic cuts and grazes spread unevenly across both her cheeks; another night, another fight and another collection of unflattering wounds.

Jess sighed and spat a dollop of blood-enriched saliva into her grime-encrusted sink. Returning her eyes to the mirror, she raised her barely functioning right hand and ran a broken finger across the thick pale scar that extended from the outer corner of her left eye to the edge of her ear. Her broken fingers then wondered across to the indented, but ultimately healed, tear in the skin covering her right cheekbone. Past wounds from past scuffles that would probably never fade...redemption came with a price.

Crossing her arms, she grabbed the base of her tight fitting green vest and hauled it over her head. As she did so, an ache danced across her ribs in raucous protest and Jess moaned in discomfort. Yet another wound: a rather ugly looking bruise that coated the entirety of the right side of her rib cage. The pale skin had darkened to an unnatural mix of purple, yellow and red. In addition, a deep gash cut across the skin of her upper-right-arm. Blood seeped from the forced opening and fell down to her elbow and then onto the floor. Jess cursed the security guard responsible. He had shot at her as she had made her escape and, at the time, she thought he had missed: obviously not!

Jess turned the handle of the supposed hot water tap and waited as the old pipes spluttered and groaned. A few moments passed and then a steady flow of brown tinged water began to spill into the sink, washing away the pool of bloodied saliva. Jess thrust her swollen hands under the running water and watched as the blood pouring from numerous lacerations was caught up and washed away down the plughole. The water was cold but Jess didn't mind, it eased the pain throbbing in her three or four broken fingers.

Satisfied that her hands had been adequately cleansed, Jess made a bowl with her palms and splashed the refreshing liquid onto her face, again blood coming away in a crimson waterfall gushing down and winding out of sight, into the circular oblivion of the plughole. It should have been quiet a distressing sight, seeing ones own blood flowing so freely, but Jess had become accustomed to it. This sort of state was common for her and she had gotten used to having her face and entire person subjected to savage beatings. It was the norm...you just accepted it and carried on.

Now with both her hands and face reasonably cleaned, Jess peered into the mirror for a re-evaluation. Nope, she was still a mess just no longer a bloody one. The cuts and grazes were still fresh and there was a stinging glow about them as they beamed proudly. The skin around her left eye was still a deep purple and elsewhere, other bruises were starting to materialise through her pale complexion. Her red and black tinted hair was straggled and soaked strands of platinum blonde drooped across her face. She looked undernourished, probably because she was, and her toned stomach was beginning to recede inwards adding some extra definition to her bruised ribs. This was not a good look and Jess let out a soft groan of disapproval.

Jess pulled her vest back on, battling through the pain, and tied her hair back with an elastic band she found in her jeans pocket. She gave her reflection a quick slap and then pulled on the hanging string to turn out the light and vanquish its tedious buzz.

She drifted over to the kitchen that merged with her living room, and opened a rusty but reliable fridge. A bright light scythed through the gloom and Jess squinted her tired emerald eyes in order to make out its contents. She was relieved to find that she did in fact have some frozen peas as anticipated. With the lack of any proper medical supplies, these peas would have to serve as a temporary cure for the burning pain in both her hands.

As it was her preferred side, Jess neatly placed her right hand amongst the cool bag of nimble peas and shuffled over to her battered and virtually broken couch. She collapsed on top of it and felt the worn cushion begin to swallow her up. To actually sit down was a luxury after a hard night battling evil forces, and Jess soaked up every second of cushion-induced comfort. Her body still ached but she was just too tired to care and she could feel her troubled mind lulling to a peaceful sleep.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

The voice came from behind Jess and she bolted upright, a hand extending to her chest to ensure her heart was still beating after the sudden shock. The light that hung above the couch flickered to life, lighting up the room, and jess turned to see a familiar figure standing by her front door.

He was tall and well built with broad shoulders. His face had a strange brick like quality to it and he wasn't glaringly handsome, but there was a definite charisma about his tight features. Floppy, greasy blonde hair lulled around his blue eyes like some unfinished picture frame and his skin, like Jess's, bore numerous scars from past battles. He was dressed in his standard get up: stupidly tight jeans, stupidly tight t-shirt and a rather loose fitting leather jacket. An air of importance surrounded him like an invisible bubble and it offset the loneliness that seemed to bleed from his pores.

"Jesus Zack, don't do that. You scared the shit out of me!" Jess exclaimed rather breathlessly.

Zack smiled gingerly, dimpled creases extending his cheeks upwards. He walked over and took a seat next to Jess. He reached out and gently tilted her face towards him so that he could inspect the damage.

"Damn," he spoke with an authoritive tone of voice, "the bastards got you good tonight."

Jess wrestled her face free from his hand and looked towards the uncovered wooden floor. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She hated it when Zack was so flippant about injuries she had sustained. In the few months she had known him, she had come to learn that he had taken it upon himself to assume responsibility for nearly all the transgenics currently in Seattle. He was the older brother none of them had ever had, the voice of reason amidst the violent chaos that was building around them. Unfortunately, the strains of this self-appointed position meant Zack often appeared cold and uncaring towards those he cherished most. Although Jess knew that deep down he was crying a river for her, she couldn't help but wish he would exhibit some kind of external warmth.

"Yeah well, I aint the one that's dead!" Jess said sharply, not averting her eyes from the floor.

Zack looked at her and his heart melted. They really had got her good this time and he got the distinct impression that she wasn't handling it too well. He knew that Jess was always on the front lines of the struggle and in the past he had seen her in far worse states, but tonight something was different. The distant nature of her eyes and the subtle trembling of her petite body hinted that tonight's skirmish bore some significance from the others.

"I'm sorry," Zack said, the authoritive tone melting away to genuine concern.

Slowly Jess looked up at Zack and he could see the trail mark of a single tear that had slithered down her narrow face and now rested on her chin. It dangled for a moment and then fell onto her savagely bruised hands. Something bad had definitely occurred tonight.

"Wanna tell me what went down?" Zack asked, putting an arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him and rested her head against his chest.

Jess managed a smile and secretly thanked Zack for stepping up to the comfort plate. "Ambush," she replied bluntly. "Three of them cornered me in a warehouse and we kind of got into an argument."

"What were you doing in a warehouse?" Zack inquired again coming across as a little too cold. He couldn't help it. He felt responsible for Jess and every other transgenic currently stemming the overflowing numbers of Familiars flooding the city.

Jess looked up and gave Zack a scowl that didn't quite come off. "I followed one of them. I was hunting him you know, we've taken such a beating I guess I wanted to..."

"Score one for our team?"

Jess nodded. "Anyway, in the ensuing scuffle a fire broke out after I careered into a stupidly placed paraffin lamp some idiot had been using for lighting. Cos the warehouse was filled with crates of deodorant; there was a wee bit of an explosion. I got out in time but the Familiars did not, nor did the security guard who stumbled upon us and decided to direct his bullets in my direction."

"Damn Jess," Zack shook his head, "that's going to attract some unwanted attention and what with the city already alert to the resurgence in transgenic numbers..."

"I know," Jess sighed, "I wish Max was here..."

Max: the name seemed familiar to Zack but he couldn't understand why. He tried to think but it was like the familiarity belonged to some memory he couldn't access. Maybe he was just being daft; there were thousands of Max's in the world. Chances were he had encountered a dog named Max back in the days he had spent working on a discreet farm. Yeah that was probably it...right?

"Who's Max?" Zack asked, hoping Jess could put an end to his wonderment.

"The answer to all our problems," Jess replied, another tear forcing its way down her raw cheek.

Max Guevera; it had been almost a year since she had defeated Jess's former companion Gray and left Seattle with her boyfriend Logan Cale. Jess had promised to take care of Seattle in her absence and, while she was trying to keep her word, it became increasingly difficult with every passing day.

The first couple of months after Max and Logan's departure had passed without incident. Jess had begun to assemble what could pass for a regular life. She found a job waiting tables and obtained a small apartment that, while decayed, felt oddly homely; her first place free of Gray. She had also managed to wiggle her way into the social structure of certain normal people: meeting them at work and choosing to interact with them rather than rip out their spleens, like the Jess of old would have done. It had been a good time and Jess remembered it fondly, but it wasn't to last.

Three months after Max's departure, things started to fall apart. Jess had been on her way home after a stressful night waiting on other people, catering to their every whim no matter how unreasonable it seemed.

"Bring me purified wine made from the blood of Jesus Christ," an obnoxious man in a suit would say.

"Fuck off," Jess would reply inside her head while her lips uttered: "I'll see what I can do...dick." Jess could have sworn the man had heard that last derogatory whisper.

Having experienced countless numbers of such events over an eight-hour shift, Jess had been at boiling point; ready to poison glasses of purified wine or maybe use neatly sanded breadsticks as stabbing weapons. She had been muttering obscenities to herself while fishing out her keys when she rounded the corner onto her street and stumbled into three large men. Each had worn a flowing orange robe with a gold snake symbol emblazoned on the chest. Each also wore a displeased look upon their face.

Having never encountered a Familiar before, Jess mistook the three strangers as some kind of monks. They had baldheads, ridiculous symbols painted on their foreheads and were dressed I an unsuitable manner for a city; it all stood to reason. Jess, already primed to explode, had been in no mood to interact with barmy monks.

"Sorry can't stop, in a hurry." She had said, attempting to squeeze past. One of them had put a tough hand on her shoulder and pushed her backwards. He had examined her closely, taking in her scent and then his face curled up in disgust.

"Transgenic scum!" he had cried, issuing a declaration of war.

One of his companions had sneered: "Looks like you took a wrong turn bitch!" and he began to chuckle.

Jess had been completely oblivious as to who or what these men were, at least up until the point where the third guy struck her across the face sending her instantly to the gro

Gray had told her about the Conclave: freaky guys in ceremonial dress who think they're tougher than they are. These three seemed to fit the bill and the novelty of actually meeting a Familiar soon wore off as Jess had found herself fighting for her life.

Each individual was as strong and as fast as a transgenic but they had one annoying advantage: they did not feel pain. Jess had disjointed one of their knees and the man did not even bat an eyelid as he slumped to the ground and spewed venom at her in a hideous stare. Jess had returned the stare but her eyes cried, what the fuck! This momentarily lapse in concentration had allowed one of the Familiars to get the jump on her and he slashed her face with a knife.

That had been it; with her face dribbling warm crimson from a disfiguring tear, Jess had decided to leave. She had broken away and disappeared into the night to lick her wounds, leaving the three Familiars to argue as to whose fault it was that the pathetic little transgenic had managed to escape.

That was the beginning and a few weeks later, Seattle was crawling with Familiars thirsting for transgenic blood. Jess had been shocked as the known transgenic numbers had begun to skyrocket. Suddenly they were everywhere, rumours of their extinction greatly exaggerated, emerging from secret holes, secret lives they had made for themselves. The Familiars spread like wildfire and the newly discovered transgenics fled, their very existence once again at stake.

Of course, with transgenics back on the scene, the everyday populous of Seattle began to panic. 'They're back', was plastered across newspaper front pages. 'Mutant menace has returned for your children: PANIC!'

The media kicked up a storm and its hate mongering was the catalyst for another epidemic of prejudice and loathsome ignorance. Vigilante groups re-appeared and vowed to take down the transgenic species by any means necessary. Jess and her kin consequently found themselves fighting two different enemies who both wanted the same thing, genocide.

Carefully built lives were swept away like dust in the wind. Close friendships were torn apart at the seams, severed beyond repair. Jobs vanished in an instant and with them the money needed to survive. Houses and apartments were lost either by legal eviction or a throng of tanked up thugs fuelled by misguided fear. It didn't matter that for the past year transgenics and regular people had been able to co-exist, lives were taken and blood spilt on both sides.

By day the transgenics struggled with persecution and by night they had to face hordes of Familiars. The transgenics stood their ground – there was nowhere else to go – and Jess stood right along beside them. No more running, no more hiding, peace was an impossible desire for Manticore soldiers.

A couple of months into the struggle, she hooked up with a small group who planned on taking the fight to the Familiars, to look out for those who could not defend themselves. This had been where she had met Zack and this was where she had been ever since. In between then and now, stood countless battles, skirmishes, injuries and blood loss. This was not the future Jess had envisaged for herself, it was not the road to redemption and with every life that she took; she slipped further into the dark void of despair.

Zack ran a tender finger across the thick scar on Jess's face. He looked at her and he could almost see the pain rising from her like a thick cloud. It wasn't just the brutal injuries; it cut deeper than that. Zack knew she had a mysterious past she was unwilling to share. The only person she ever seemed to open up to was a brash individual named Trick, and that was because they went way back to the days when she was in Manticore. Jess was a closed book that never opened to Zack's eyes and so he found her deeply intriguing. Now here she was mumbling about some dude called Max and so the mystery deepened.

Who was Max? The question was beginning to niggle at Zack, bother him a little more than it should have. Why did Jess wish he was here? Why did the name sound so familiar?

Zack felt responsible for every transgenic currently fighting the impossible odds. He didn't know why exactly, probably part of the training he could no longer remember. But there was something special about Jess. Zack knew he shouldn't, but he had a soft spot for her...she was special. It killed him to see the poor girl go through so much but now there was a new feeling to plague his thoughts: jealousy. Just who the hell was this guy Max?

"I'm sorry Max," Jess mumbled as she fell into the blissful grip of sleep.

"Who's Max?" Zack asked the empty room as he leant his head on top of Jess'. "If he's so great, then where is he now?"

Night fell and the dark blue sky was awash with diamond stars and the silver crescent moon hovered above like a deep cut in the navy surface. Dark clouds drifted across like a translucent veil and wondered aimlessly with nowhere to go.

Max sat watching the sky and taking in deep breaths of fresh, rich country air. She was positioned at the edge of an expansive lake surrounded by a dense forest of tall pine trees. The moonlight cut across the rippled surface of the water like some distorted path that ran up to her feet, calmly submerged in the cool shallow depths. The haunting silver turned the trees into jagged silhouettes that appeared out of place against the thick blue canvass of sky behind and above them. It was a magical view, a painting that perfectly captured the essence of peace.

Completely at ease, Max rested her elbows on the soft dirt and flicked her feet, splashing the clear silvery water. There were no sounds except the distant rustling of branches and the occasional splash as timid waves licked the lakes' edges. This was what she had craved for so long and, even after a whole year, she never grew tired of immersing herself into the quaint wilderness.

There was nothing but green countryside for miles around. The nearest point of civilisation was a small post-pulse town called Morrisburgh. It had a population of around two hundred and fifty. They were friendly people, cut off from the corruption of city life, and they were receptive towards Max when she came for monthly groceries. An old woman named Molly ran the general store and Max enjoyed gossiping about all sorts whenever she visited. Molly also enjoyed her monthly updates from Max, eagerly taking in the news and responding with warm pleasantries. It was vastly different from Max's former life in Seattle but it hadn't taken her long to be seduced by its quiet allure. She could even say that she fell for it completely.

Max smiled; a genetically enhanced killing machine falling for a quiet life in the secluded wilderness didn't sound quite right. But it was true and Max's heart sank as she realised this was to be her last night alone with the poetic painting before her.

It was time to leave, Max knew this. For the past few weeks something had been niggling at the furthest reaching of her mind. It wouldn't disappear and only grew stronger. At first, Max had not known what to make of it. She tried to shrug it off but couldn't help feeling that something terrible was coming. She had suspicions of what it could be and last week those suspicions were confirmed.

Strange black symbols had appeared on the back of her hand and were the markings of some long lost language. Translated, they simply read: the coming is here. That had been it, the signal to return to Seattle. The time had arrived for Max to face up to her destiny, fulfil her obligation to her creator. It was time to go save the world.

"Are you ok?" Logan's voice came from behind her and Max turned to see him standing on the decking in front of their small wooden cabin. He was wrapped in a chequered blanket and his brilliant blue eyes were still sleepy. A lazy smile was spread across lips and he sighed in contentment as he shuffled over to Max and sat beside her.

"Thought you were sleeping," Max said, tussling his scattered hair into an even greater mess.

Logan laughed. "Yeah well, I guess I got lonely." He put an arm around Max and welcomed her into his blanket cocoon. Max snuggled into his side and put a hand against his chest, her fingers feeling the raised flesh of a past bullet wound.

"Sorry Logan but you know that I don't really need to sleep."

"I know..." Logan stopped to yawn, his entire face tightening like a rubber band. "It's just nice to have you there." He leaned down and kissed the top of her raven black hair.

"Well just another minute and then I will be back inside." Max said, her voice distant.

"There's no hurry, I'm up now and besides, I need to say goodbye too." He looked across the lake and into the surrounding forest.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Max whispered.

"Yes it is," Logan replied, his voice joining hers in the far off depths of the forest.

"I don't want to leave."

Logan chuckled and ran a hand through Max's long hair. A finger broke away and brushed the soft skin of her cheek and she smiled at the comforting nature of his touch. Logan could do this for her; little gestures such as this were all she needed to feel like everything would be ok. He didn't need to use words his touch spoke volumes.

"Well the coming has finally..." Logan paused and tensed his brow. "I want to say 'come' but it sounds so..."

Max exhaled sharply in amusement and gave Logan a nudge with her head. "Yes it has come and I have to go back."

"We have to go back," Logan corrected her.

Max smiled. "We have to go back." She looked up at Logan and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. She then rested her forehead against his and looked into his eyes. "It has been perfect hasn't it?"

"Beyond perfect," Logan replied. "Now," his voice brightened into a more playful tone, "can you do your trick for me?"

Max raised her eyebrows and replied in a sly voice. "What trick are we talking about?"

"The one with the disappearing rock...of course."

Max giggled and shook her head. "I don't know Logan..."

"Please!"

"Ok." She reached out and retrieved an oval shaped rock from the lakeside. It's smooth surface appeared oil like in the pale moonlight and she tightened her fingers around its shape. "Now here we have an ordinary rock," she rotated the rock with her fingers. "I plan to make this rock disappear."

Logan gave a theatrical gasp.

"Ok, on one...two...and three!"

Max tightened her fingers and the rock disintegrated immediately. There was a loud crack that echoed the trees and it crumbled to dust, filtering through the cracks of her clenched fist.

"There ya go," Max opened up her hand, "no more rock!"

"That's amazing," Logan cried, "I've never seen anything like that before..."

Max laughed. "Ok Logan, don't overdo it."

"Sorry," he smiled. "Are you worried about going back to Seattle?"

"Yeah, I hope Jess has managed to keep it in one piece; we were gone longer than planned after all."

"I'm sure she has, now come on, lets go inside. You may be a cold-tolerant super being but I'm freezing my nuts off!"

"And we can't have that," Max replied, rising to her feet.

Logan made his way back to the cabin and Max took one last look around her. She said goodbye and then followed inside. Tomorrow was the end of peace and the beginning of another chapter of violence. Max wasn't entirely sure of what 'The Coming' was but she knew that whatever it was, it would be bad...very, very bad.