Predators
4: Distorted Reality
Logan Cale was a patient man. His patience for finding the cure proved just that. How many years had it been? Two? Three? Two or three years of searching, finding, waiting for the cure and now he finally found it. Patience was therefore, a very powerful virtue. He inwardly congratulated himself as he switched off his computer and picked up his mobile phone.
He was about to dial Max's number when a brilliant idea stopped him. He nodded thoughtfully. Yes, that was indeed a brilliant idea. For a while now, Logan had noticed how – down Max was lately, and he figured that surprising her with the cure would surely bring a smile to her face. Yes, that will indeed make her happy.
Logan Cale, instead, dialed his contact's number. He was a geneticist that went by the name of Rick Huntress. He used to work for Manticore, but after it burnt down, he had fled – not wanting to be kept under the controlling hands of Manticore. The good doctor valued his freedom and independence more than his work.
At first, he wasn't too eager to generate the cure, as he was afraid that Manticore might catch up to his recent doings and take him back under their clutches. But when Logan offered him a six-figured amount of money – he immediately agreed to abide his request. And so far, the production of the cure went off without a hitch.
Logan smiled. It wouldn't be long until he would be holding it in his fingers.
It wouldn't be long until he would be holding Max in his arms.
"Hello?" a smooth British voice asked at the other end of the line.
"Dr. Huntress," Logan greeted him. "It's Logan Cale."
"Ah, Mr. Cale. How may I help you?"
"I was just wondering when I could pick up the cure…?"
"Well, I'm not too busy right now. Perhaps you would like to pick it up right now at my office?"
Logan had to stop himself from bounding out of his new apartment (he had acquired a new one in Foggle Towers after White had left the picture) and rushing over to the doctor right now. Patience, my friend.
"That would perfect."
"Very well, make sure that you have the money."
And the line went dead.
Logan shrugged on his jacket, grabbed the duffel bag full of money and slipped his car keys into his pocket. "Just a few more hours, Max. Just a few more hours and we'll finally be together."
…
Rick Huntress' office was located in downtown Seattle where most of the lower classes resided. Although Rick Huntress possessed no financial problems and could've bought himself a nice, contemporary mansion, he found himself unable to do so. Since Manticore was still out there – he had to lay low for a while…thus the dingy, dilapidated office.
A loud knock interrupted him from his dinner. Mr. Cale has arrived. He thought, rolling his eyes. He did not know why he disliked the man – he just did. Maybe it was because he worked for Eyes Only – who was part of the reason on why Manticore had gone down in ashes – who was responsible for the freedom that Huntress currently enjoyed. No, that was not it. It was just the fact that the said man had to fall for a transgenic.
A transgenic. Instantly, Huntress was brought back to his days as a geneticist in Manticore, and a cold shiver ran down his spine. He had seen what those creatures were capable of – had seen the look of danger in their dead, haunted eyes – the look that promised his death if he ever did anything to them.
It was strange, because what he didn't know was the fear that each and every transgenic held for needles, hospitals, and doctors like him. They feared each other. This was why ordinary humans did not mingle with transgenics. They were beyond dangerous – they were created to be human weapons – tools used to kill and assassinate.
That was why this man – Cale – irked him so much. Did he not see it yet? Did he not see that, no matter how much this female transgenic may seem to love him, it will never end like a fairy tale? There were no happy endings when it came to transgenics. They were unpredictable, treacherous animals that were a menace to humanity.
Besides, the offspring of an ordinary and a transgenic would not be perfect. You'd think that with the transgenic's superior genes, the baby would come out beautiful, strong, and complete with enhanced abilities? No. The result of cross-breeding a human and a transgenic was an abnormal baby with anomalous capabilities.
"Dr. Huntress?"
Cale's voice reverberating from outside his office door shook him out of his pessimistic thoughts and brought him back to reality. A series of knocks followed his voice, and the doctor pulled himself out of the comfort of his seat to open the door.
"Mr. Cale, come in, come in!" He greeted in an overly-cheerful voice.
Cale smiled at him and seated himself in one of the armchairs facing his desk. Huntress noticed the bulging duffel bag that the man carried with him and he had to stop himself from getting to excited. Half a million dollars. He licked his lips. That would be enough for him to flee the country and start a new life somewhere else – Puerto Rico, maybe.
"So, doc. The cure…?"
Huntress nodded and moved over to the small refrigerator standing at the far end of the room. It was where he kept most of his experiments. After a quick check of the label, he pulled out a vial filled with neon-blue liquid. It glimmered surreptitiously, promising only the best results. With a small smile of pride and satisfaction at his newly-created cure, he handed it over to Cale who practically quivered with excitement the minute he saw it.
"Well, you know what to do Mr. Cale." Huntress said taking the bag of money from him and slinging it over his shoulder. The weight of the bag only increased his satisfaction. "Inject it only once on either of her arms. It'll take effect after forty-eight hours."
Cale stood up and grasped his hand tightly. "Thank you. Thank you very much."
Huntress forced out a smile. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Cale."
…
Terminal City had put up their own little bar a few weeks ago and so far, everyone loved it. It was dubbed as 'Freak Central', and it was open 24/7. It may not be as huge and as funky as Crash, but it was good enough for the transgenics who barely had any other place to unwind and to 'drink their worries away'.
That was where he found her, sitting at the half-empty bar counter, 'drinking her worries away'. It was so not Max that Alec began to get a tad bit concerned. She had been a bit – distant from him lately. Alright, so she was always distant from him. But more distant from him anyway.
"Hey Maxie," he greeted her, plopping himself onto the empty stool next to her. "A scotch, Mike."
The black-skinned transhuman rushed off to get his drink, leaving Max and Alec to their privacy. "What do you want, Alec?"
"Just wanted to check if you were alright," Alec said easily.
Max stared at him. "Well I'm always alright."
It was strange, but it was almost like they switched places right there. It was usually Max asking him if he was alright – if he didn't get his ass into trouble. And it was usually him saying that infamous line of his… 'I'm always alright.'
Now that worried him. Because he, being the inventor of that line, knew that his 'I'm always alright' crap was a big, fat, lie. "Well I don't believe you."
Max shot him a dirty look.
"Look Maxie, it's just me. You're good ol' buddy Alec. You know you can tell me anything."
"Well, I have nothing to tell you."
She then slammed her empty beer bottle onto the countertop and sailed out of the bar, leaving Alec to look after her.
Mike shook his head in sympathy, as he handed Alec his Scotch. "Girl trouble, man?"
Alec grinned wryly. "I wish."
Mike began wiping the countertop. "Hey, did Mole tell you yet?"
Alec sipped his Scotch thoughtfully. "Tell me what?"
"There was another X5 that went missing."
Alec's grip on his glass tightened. "Who?"
"You know, that new guy – Sean."
…
The soldier that walked out of Psychological Operations was unrecognizable – was different from the man that entered it. Gone was the humor from his smile, gone was the fear that paled his face, gone was the glimmer of humanity from his sapphire-blue eyes – gone was the man that made him a person.
His soul had disappeared.
All that was left was an empty shell. His exterior features were beautiful, almost flawless. But inside – what was left within was complete nothingness.
Devon had vanished.
And what replaced him was a soulless assassin – X5-720.
…
A/N: Alright, so it's probably obvious that I don't know anything about Psy Ops. All I know is, that the soldiers/transgenics are sent there when they fail a certain mission, or something. REVIEW please. :-)