Every member of the Conclave had a duel existence: one as a Familiar, one as a member of society. Not that the Familiars thought too highly of society. Ames certainly never much cared for his neighbors, but he did admire some of his co-workers and friends of his late wife. They could be quite funny and clever at dinner parties.
Ames White hated "down time" because it always came back to this point: he missed his wife and son. He blamed 452, of course. She probably figured him for a sociopath, one with no regard for human life, but the truth was that White was very loyal to his family. Besides, the base word of "sociopath" was "socio." And as far as he was concerned, there were two "socios": the meek, doomed one and the superior one that would inherit the earth once the meek were dead and gone. Black...and White.
Logan hadn't stopped working since he left Terminal City. Lydecker's testimony and Asha's confession didn't line up. One or both of them were lying. Or were they? It could be that they only knew what they had been told, and they had been told different stories. Logan suspected that Lydecker's presence could be a ploy of the Conclave, but he knew that Asha's defection was an uncalculated move. Everything would be clearer if he could just get his hands on that manuscript Sketchy had found. He told Mole as much, and the grizzled lizard-man agreed readily to help Logan nab the manuscript.
"You're a quick learn, for a human," Mole shrugged.
"Well thanks, I think," Logan managed a tight smile, unsure whether he should take Mole's comment as praise or criticism.
"Let's not get mushy." Mole reached over a desk on their way out and pulled his favorite shotgun from under it. Gripping the pump, he gave his forearm a jerk, cocking the gun, and nonchalantly leaned the barrel over his shoulder.
If there was one thing Logan Cale couldn't do, it was carry a gun like he was born to do it. All the transgenics had a grace about them when they handled weapons that Logan couldn't stop himself from admiring. He drove them both to the New World Weekly headquarters. At Mole's behest, Logan slowly drove around the block again, then parked in an alley a few blocks away. Under the cover of the darkness and shadows caused by the taller buildings, they made their way to the back door of New World Weekly. Mole grinned, small teeth stark against the green-blackness of his face as he jumped onto the dumpster and catapulted himself onto the roof. Logan grinned back as he landed right next to the transgenic, thankful he had worn his super-powered exoskeleton tonight.
"Show off." Mole quickly moved across the roof to an access door. He tried the knob, to find it locked. He was about to shoot the lock when Logan stopped him.
"Let me try," he asked as he knelt down in front of the door. It was a simple enough lock; even a novice could pick it, as he did. Once inside, Mole led them first to the security console, where they turned off the cameras, then to the lobby. He rifled through two drawers of the receptionist's desk before he found the master key. From there it was child's play to get into the right office and steal the musty leather-bound book Logan was after.
"Take it to the car," Mole instructed. "I'm going to cover our asses."
Mole was only a few minutes behind Logan, and they were nearly back to Terminal City before Logan's curiosity made him ask what Mole had done.
"I cut the power. It will look enough like a mouse did it, I think. That way no-one'll think twice about the cameras being down."
"But once they realize the manuscript is gone?"
Mole scoffed. "That place prints trash. Who's going to believe it was worth anything?"
Alec had never been with another of his kind before, much less an X-5 in heat. It was feral, sadistic. At some point, he realized that Max was raking his skin with her fingernails, but the pain only made him want climax more. It felt good to be able to hurt her back, knowing that she'd be none worse for the wear tomorrow. Almost at the edge now, he gripped her biceps. He knew that the force would break most people's arms, and he felt her tense in reaction to the pain. With an evil smile, he thrust again. This time her body tensed in a completely different way, relaxing even as her muscles all contracted at once.
Ten minutes later, Max had found her underwear and bra. Now she was searching Alec's messy room for the rest of her clothes, tossing his own boxers and jeans at him.
"Are you going to tell Logan we made love?" he asked suddenly, teasing. He knew the fact that he still lay naked and comfortable on his bed annoyed her. "Cause I kinda think he has a right to know."
"'Made love'?" Max practically vomited Alec's words back at him. "Don't flatter yourself."
"What would you call it then?"
"Scratching an itch," She replied evenly as she buttoned her jeans. Finding her shirt at last, she headed for the door. Reconsidering, she paused. "And no, Logan doesn't need to know about this. Let's just pretend it didn't even happen. Never mention it again. Ever." With that, she slipped out of the door, feeling much more focused now than she had all week.
Alec just felt empty. He began dressing himself. He was so sick of being used; he was sick of Terminal City and everyone in it with their messed up lives. He just wanted the world to go away, like it had in those carnal moments with Max. He wanted to go back to the time when he was a piano teacher, and Rachel was the only woman he'd ever love.
A pounding at the door shook him from his self-pity. He quickly pulled on a shirt and answered it.
"Jesus, Joshua!" he recoiled from his tall friend's punch, checking to see if his nose was broken and blinking back tears from his watering eyes. "What the hell was that for?" He looked up in time to avoid another blow.
"Max and Logan. That was the plan," Joshua bellowed. "Not Max and Alec!" He growled, then, and swung a huge fist at Alec.
"Plan? What plan?" Alec asked angrily as he sidestepped another bruising swing. Joshua was backing him into a corner. "There's no cure and there's no hope!"
"Dix is taking the virus bitch down." Joshua was still advancing, so Alec boxer-danced his way around the behemoth, buying him space to maneuver. Suddenly, what Joshua said made sense.
Alec stopped. "You mean Dix is trying to find a cure for Logan?" The pieces were falling into place now: the equipment, the organic text books, the meetings in Terminal City's old chemistry labs. Alec was rewarded with another strike, this time right above his left ear.
"You think this was my plan?" Alec demanded, shaking his head to clear the ringing. "I thought we were friends, Josh." Quickly, Alec grabbed his jacket and left.
"Where are you going?" Joshua lunged again, still intent on fighting.
"Ask your little fella," Alec said, avoiding Josh's advance. "She's the one with all the 'plans.'" With that, Alec was gone, leaving Joshua with his rage.