Previously in LET
"Alec, Joshua has good news!" His canine features lit up with excitement. "Father's here!"
"So what the hell are you saying? They made up all the shit about the comet and the disease? Just to throw us off the trail?" Alec asked incredulously.
"That's exactly what I'm saying. The Coming, the real Coming is prophesied to occur in less than a month...The pathogen must be constantly replenished with fresh enzyme, which, as I mentioned, they can only get while Max is alive. If it is not replenished, once released, the pathogen will be absolutely harmless. But if the enzyme is gathered from Max's blood after death, the pathogen will be fatal to only the Familiars."
"There is an ancient prophesy in our texts, one that has been cast aside because it tells what they did not want to hear. 'The One shall shed her blood for the world, the Warrior at her side. Her sacrifice will bring forth life from death, and the Warrior's cry shall bring an end to the Snake Children.'," Sandeman recited.
"I've had enough of the bullshit prophesies you cult freaks conjure up. I'll stick to what I can see and fight. You can either help, or get the hell out of my city." Green flames danced in Alec's eyes as he stared the old man down, daring him to argue.
Sandeman smiled sadly, staring at the space Alec had just occupied. You may not believe in the prophesies, but they most certainly believe in you, Warrior
Chapter Eleven: Life From Death: The Sacrifice
Two Weeks later...(Week #8 of Max's capture)
In a dark room in the Familiar's compound, a girl was hanging from the ceiling in shackles. Her eyes were closed, fluttering beneath their lids. A man watched with a morbid intensity as her body shook and she whimpered at the sights her dreams bring.
She is walking, dirty and battered through the streets of a city. Thousands upon thousands of dead bodies, human and those not so human, are piled unceremoniously on either side of her like so much garbage for as far as she can see. She can hear marching and turns to watch the scene with horror as it unfolds before her. White and the others that have tested and prodded her walk, heads held high, in a procession, each of them an icon of power. Hatred and fear surge through her as she sees the malevolent force that has taken over her world.
She casts her gaze around, realizing that she now stands in front of a row of bodies. Familiar faces litter the disarray, but she can't remember to whom they belong. As she walks down the sidewalk, taking in the terrible sight, she feels some unknown force pulling her to a particular spot. She stops cold as shivers work their way up her now erect spine. At her feet are two men, one old and one young. Examining the men more closely, she begins to sob as she sees those bright hazel eyes one of the few links to her past dulled by the glaze of death; both men, young and old, are dead. Falling to her feet, the tears run rivers down her face as she caresses the young man's pale cheek affectionately. In awe over how he can look so beautiful even in death, she barely notices the tingling in her hands. She pulls her arm back in shock as strange markings begin to appear, as if by magic, on her arms, almost covering them entirely. To her surprise she can read the foreign symbols. "Your sacrifice..."
"Wakey, wakey, 452," came the chilling voice, ripping her away from one nightmare and bringing her to another. Cold water splashed on her face and she sputtered, opening her eyes to see the sneering face of White above her. As much as he'd been enjoying witnessing the effects her tortured mind was having on her sleep, he found her being awake to be much more...satisfying.
Her brown eyes widened in fear. Once those eyes had been full of fire and life, but were now dulled by the weeks of intensive torture. The girl struggled in her chains, angling her neck so she could see her arms. She searched for the markings and found nothing. Where did they go? she wondered. The past week had brought many dreams and bits of memories. It was gettting difficult for her to tell the difference between her dreams and reality because both were so vivid. Sometimes, when she dreamt of him, she chose to believe in the lies her mind created. It was better to be anywhere than where she was. She shook her head imperceptibly. A good soldier makes the best of the situation they are given. I don't have time for this sentimentality, she mentally chastized herself.
Ames White observed her struggle and puzzled face with dark delight. "Looking for something, 452?"
She levelled her head, staring at him blankly. "No." The first time someone had called her by her designation, she hadn't responded; she'd had an inkling that her designation, X5-452, was not really what she should answer too. Now she knew the truth, and since then, she'd never made the mistake of forgetting. She couldn't remember much of anything before this place of blood and torture. The things she did remember were clouded in fog; hazel eyes that seemed to fill her with emotions she didn't recognize everytime they came to mind, And a face now, too, she breifly thought, remembering her dream. Along with few incomphrensible memories and the things her commanding officers had told her, that was all she had. According to her superiors, she was a special operations soldier with genetically enhanced abilities; a transgenic. She was being punished for allowing a young boy, her commanding officer's son, to be killed during a mission she'd commanded. Her CO, White, had full autonomy over what happened to her now; he'd made it clear that the loss of his son would not be taken lightly.
"No what, soldier?" White smirked, his eyes glinting in amusement at the painful expressions that flickered over 452's face.
"No, Sir," 452 ground out as flashes of memories assaulted her mind, not for the first time. Herself as a child, dressed in army camoflauge, running through the woods with other children. Doing weapons drills outside a large building. She growled incoherently as the jumble continued. She was seated in a classroom watching a slideshow. 'Mission.' 'Duty.' 'Discipline.' The words repeated endlessly in her mind, until she was reciting them aloud.
White listened intently. She'd been so hard for him to break, even when she'd lost most of her memories. But after her trip to the lab, she'd been ...domesticated for the most part. Mostly when it doesn't concern me, he smirked, congratulating himself on a job well done.
One week earlier
"452, my people tell me that we have recovered an...interesting piece of equipment from your childhood home," White said as he wheeled a heavily restrained Max down another blaring white corridor. "Go to hell," Max spat, struggling against the thick leather straps. It was no use, she had little to no strength in her body after weeks of unrelenting torture.
White simply laughed and pushed her into a room that was different from the others she'd been in. She observed her surroundings with scrutiny. It was a medical room, but unlike the observed laboratory. Suppressing an involuntary shudder, she continued to survey the room. Her eyes fell upon a reclined chair with a strangely familiar looking machine situated over it. Though she didn't know why it was so familiar to her, it filled her with an oppressing fear. "More tests, White?" she asked through gritted teeth.
She received no verbal answer. Instead, several attendents held her down and undid her straps. She resisted as best she could, but in her state, she was no match for even one of the men. They lifted her up and into the chair, struggling to keep their grip as she flailed and screamed. Whatever it was, if they were in charge, it couldn't be good.
"What's the matter 452? This thing's like an old friend to you," he goaded, gesturing to the apparatus above her. Max tried to curse at him, but her mouth was filled with a gag as soon as she opened it. Her head was strapped so there was nowhere to look except dead ahead as the red laser beamed into her iris.
"Good old Manticore." White smiled in evil satisfaction as Max's pained, muffled screams pierced the silence of the room.
Present
When she had emerged from the room, the attitude from before had slipped away completely. Several men attended to and informed her about her situation, giving her the story that she now somewhat believed. They gave her orders and she obliged. She was a soldier. She was X5-452, a picture of obedience. Until Ames White had appeared. She'd become feral, all thoughts of duty and aquiescence to her superiors, as she knew them, gone. It had taken six men to pull her off of him, even in her weakened state. It became quickly apparent that though the Psy-Ops trick had worked, there was something a bit off about 452. A soldier, but also something more dark, more primal than she'd ever been. The Familiar doctors said that she'd lost pieces of her sanity that she might never regain. And that was quite alright with Ames White.
"Missiondutydiscipline," 452 muttered quickly with a low breath. Stopping abruptly, she looked up at White, blank faced once again, something in her mind having clicked. "Permission to speak, sir?"
White almost did a double take at the sudden change in her demeanor. Since her initial attack on him she'd fought him every step, mentally and physically. Now she was asking him questions as if he'd been her commanding officer for years. "Permission granted."
"What was my mission? The one I failed in?" "It is classified and, given your current status," he said, pausing to glare at her disapprovingly, "it has been decided that the information will remain classified. From you."
452 nodded resignedly, lowering her head in shame. "Did, did your son," she sputtered, afraid of what her question may bring. "Did he have hazel eyes?"
White spun on his heel, punching her in stomach with no warning. 452 coughed and sputtered, trying to regain her ability to breath.
Her captor gripped her chin in his hands, using excessive force to bring up her gaze to meet his. "Let me tell you something about yourself.. Something about those hazel eyes of yours," he ground out. The look in his eyes sent chills down 452's spine. "Your blood is toxic. It will destroy human life as you know it, as well as all those like you. Transgenics," he said, spitting the last word out as if it had left a foul taste in his mouth. "Everyone you know somewhere in that fucked up little head of yours that you care about but can't remember, will be dead. You're precious hazel-eyed man will be among the bodies." He observed her calculatingly, satisfied with the fear that washed over her battered features. "You are going to kill him."
Her eyes widened as White pick up a blade from a metal tray on a table next him. "No, no, no," she breathed. She had no trouble remembering the torture that he'd put her through during the past week especially, and blanched as he walked forward.
"The medical staff needs tissue samples," he said, a chilling emptiness to his tone. That's true enough. He drew the blade slowly and torturously across the skin on her stomach. Blood welled to the surface and flowed down her body in thin crimson rivers.
452 shrieked and stared in utter horror as White finished his first incision. He brought forth tweezers, seemingly from out of nowhere, and began the torturous procedure of 'taking' samples. He slipped the 'sample' in a ziploc bag, and moved to repeat the process, revelling in the whimpers being ellicited from the frightened girl.
Looking at the numerous plastic bags that now littered the table he was filled with evil satisfaction. 5 tissue samples they needed? White thought. Always was one for overkill.
Joshua stood outside the cell, looking in the bar-slatted window. He shook his head back and forth, his long hair going wild as he growled in frustration at the man who'd caused so many problems, all out of jealousy and selfish pride. Inside the cell, Logan was huddled on the cot, looking around with the eyes of a mad man. Ever since Father had returned, Alec had stepped up his 'interrogation methods';whatever semblence of sanity Logan had retained was no more.
All of Terminal City knew that their leader had been pushing hard to get everything done himself. He'd strained himself so much that he had not, given his words to Mole in the mess hall, paid any attentiong to the team of Xs that had followed him on every recon mission since Max had been taken. Or to the fact that all his leads were checked and doublechecked by Dix and Luke. Or that there was always someone watching him when he eventually let his guard down enough to sleep. For a while, instead of channelling all the pain into something useful, something productive, like Alec usually did, it had turned to hate and rage; and it had blinded him.
An incident two weeks ago had brought his mistake into the light, and since then, he'd been improving. Mole and Joshua had cornered him after they'd walked in on him passed out on his desk, 5 empty bottles of scotch on the floor. They had both shown him the error of his ways.
Flashback
"Alec not helping Max by drinking," Joshua pointed out simply. "Not helping anyone. Not even helping Alec." Alec glared at the two transhumans for having dared to rouse and confront him.
"You need to pull yourself out of this before it's too late. For any of us." Mole's face was serious, no usual joking demeanor evident. He absently blew a cloud of smoke into Alec's face. "This isn't the 494 that I know. The 494 I know would be using anything and anyone to get to his girl. Not to mention that whole saving the world thing. You can't do that on your own, and you know it."
Joshua sighed. "Time for tricks and treats Alec. Be strong. Be a soldier."
End Flashback
Alec had been better lately, more like the soldier he was meant to be. He delegated out responsibilites, handed out orders. Joshua knew that it was what had to be done for Alec to get through this with his mind intact, and the visits to basement were his way of letting out the emotion without compromising the mission. He knew how bad his friend was hurting, even if it was it wasn't blatantly obvious anymore, and Joshua couldn't help but feel responsible in some way.
Joshua's fault, the canine man thought.. He blamed himself for not getting to her in time, for not being there when she needed him. He knew it was pointless, the same thing would have happened in the end, but he just couldn't shake away the feeling of guilt. So instead of trying to push it away, he avenged his loss on the cause of everything; Logan.
It wasn't often that he came here, to the basement, but it was enough to help him cope with the pain just a little. Joshua not get mad, get even, he thought, remembering something he'd heard Original Cindy say. Joshua was ripped from his musings as he heard Logan's voice. He was jabbering to himself, as was usual these days. Usually the babbling was incoherent, but today... Joshua listened intently as he heard her name.
"Max, things are not the way they should be. You should be with me," Logan paused for a minute, as if listening for a response. "They're hurting you? It's okay, I'll help you," he said, dragging his hand across his flat pillow as if it were alive. "That bastard. He said he wouldn't hurt you, use you to get what he needed, then let you go so you could be with me. The way it was meant to be." He paused again, replying to the apparent silence. "No, I don't know where you are."
Joshua's eyes narrowed as he realized Logan believed that he was actually having a conversation with Max. He pushed his ear to the door as Logan continued, not wanting to miss a word.
Logan smiled as he spoke again. "But I do know how to find out. I'm Eyes Only, of course I know." Joshua's big brown eyes openened in shock as he realized what the other man had just said.
More credit than given to him. He did not tell, Joshua mused angrily.
"My cellphone, the one with all my contacts..." Logan lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. "White's untraceable number is there." He grinned proudly and then frowned. "Yes, I know where that is. Max, don't get mad." Logan held his hands up in mock defense. "My cell-phone...it's..." he paused and looked at the wall sheepishly. "It's at Asha's."
Without waiting to hear anymore, Joshua pushed himself off the wall and ran with amazing speed for someone his size. Though the ramblings of a insane man, there could be truth in them. If there was, this information could prove invaluable. Have to tell Alec, he thought as he ran. He didn't stop running until he'd reached HQ.
White had long ago left 452 alone in her cell, still hanging from the ceiling. Her bleeding had slowed from the various cuts and open wounds, but had not yet stopped completely. She drifted in and out of consciousness until finally sleep claimed her. Once more, the dream returned.
The scene plays out as it did before. Again she sees the bodies of those fallen and is filled with dread as somehow she knows she helped cause their demise. The multitude of people she'd seen at her new base again march in a steady procession and she picks out those harsh icy eyes from the din. She comes upon the row of dead and sees the faces of the two men. She rushes to the hazel-eyed man's side in tears, this time pulling him up into her arms. "Why did you die?" she asked, not expecting an answer. The tingling in her hands and arms begins and intensifies. Pulling back from the dead man, she looks at her arms and gasps as she reads the small foreign symbols. 'You are the key. Your sacrifice will bring forth life from death.'
"Why! Why me? I can't remember. WHY?" she pleads to no one, anyone.
A whispered voice is carried to her in the wind as she sobs for all things lost; Let this not come to pass.
The scene changes, melting away after the voice has spoken. Humans and transgenics previously dead, are alive. The transgenics stand in a wide circle around something she cannot see. She pushes through the din and finds herself face to face with...herself. She sees her body on the ground, blood pooling from her stomach. The older white-haired gentlemen who is balanced on a cane stands with the hazel-eyed man. He collapses next to her, sobs wracking his body.
The voice whispers again, repeating the words written on her arm: Your sacrifice will bring forth life from death
452's eyes opened, adjusting to the pitch black of the room. Her breathing came in short, ragged gasps as she recovers from her dream. Will my death keep them alive? Will it keep Hazel-Eyes alive? Suddenly, her body went deathly still and her breathing became shallow and even. A fierce, animalistic fire took up residence in her eyes and she smiled wickedly. I have a new mission, now, White.
Dix's fingers flew over the keyboard as he set up the lock on the signal they'd gotten from the number on Logan's phone. Asha had been less than pleased when Alec had burst into her apartment with Mole and Joshua, demanding to know where Logan's cellphone was. Despite slight resistance, they'd gotten what they wanted. Luke had almost laughed when he'd searched the phone for the number and found an entry labelled 'Black.' He speculated that Logan hadn't had much of his sanity left to lose even before Alec had broken him, if he would put White's number under such an obvious antonym.
"We're in," Dix announced to the room of tense transgenics.
Mole mumbled something around his cigar that sounded like, "Untraceable my ass," and puffed a large cloud of grey smoke into the air.
"Whenever he uses that phone, we'll be able to lock it down within a 20 mile radius." Alec snorted in response.
"20 miles? That's as close as we can lock it down?" he asked impatiently, his arms crossed against his chest.
"It's better than what we've got right now," Luke shrugged.
"All we can do right now is waHoly Shit!" Dix exclaimed as a message popped up on the computer screen declaring that the signal was in use.
Alec rushed to his side, staring at the screen in disbelief. A blob of red covered a map and was slowly reducing as the signal remained locked in. "Texas?" he asked, his eyes wide. "They're in Texas?"
The signal abruptly shut off, leaving a red area that was 60 miles in radius. "You said 20 miles, Dix. That's not 20," Alec stated, ticking his fingers rapidly on the desk.
"Given enough time, it would be. We'll just have to wait until he uses the phone again," Dix explained apologetically.
"Fine." Alec turned away from the computer and approached Mole. "Have four teams geared up and ready for whenever we know anything more." Mole nodded in understanding but made no move to leave. "Now, Mole. Unless you want to get me angry." His voice was dangerously low, and Mole ignored the cold emotionless glare at his back as he left.
"Right, 'cause you angry is a new development," he muttered as he turned into the hallway.
After Mole had left, Alec faced Sandeman. "You know anywhere in Texas the Familiar's have a base?" he demanded.
Sandeman shook his head. "They didn't have a base in Texas when I was with them."
"Dammit!" He leaned against the wall closest to him. "We don't have time for this," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "We only have a few weeks left until they don't need her anymore. And then we'll all be dead." He blinked back the stinging tears from his eyes. Now is not the time to sulk, soldier! Do something about it! He pushed the emotions far to the back of his conciousness, phasing them out until there was almost nothing left.
The occupants of headquartes eyed him warily, still not sure which Alec they were going to be dealing with. Joshua came over and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "He'll use it again, Alec. Then we go save Max."
Alec looked up at him, his soldier's mask underlied by a breif glimmer of hope that was quickly squelched. "I hope you're right, Joshua. I hope you're right."
No one slept that night, for fear of missing the signal that would show them where their lost leader was, and where the apocolypse would begin.
452 had been hanging in the same spot for three days, letting the lab techs poke and prod her like a good little soldier. She answered every question they asked to the best of her ability and followed every order given to her. They'd been feeding her, albeit meagerly, and giving her time to heal so she'd be ready to give a brand new batch of blood for replenishing their pathogen. They'd even clothed her for the first time since she'd arrived. Angry red welts could still be seen all over her body where she'd been cut and beaten. Her lack of nutrients had eaten away at her fat reserves, and she was near skin and bones. They hadn't bathed her and blood and sweat still matted her hair and streaked her body. But even in her weakened state, she was still stronger and faster than all the guards and medtechs in the room.
Large hands insterted a key into the shakles at her wrists, and another at her feet. She'd been so obedient and convincing over the past few days that one bold lab tech had managed to convince the others that she was no longer a risk. They were now letting her out of her restraints so she could move around in her cell; one main perk of this for the guards - they didn't have to feed her this time.
She stretched with a feline languidity, shaking off the effects of not being able to stand on her feet for weeks. One would think that her legs would be near atrophy, but her enhanced genetics had allowed her to heal wonderfully in the past few days. She was by no means, up to her full potential, but she was strong enough. An instinct that had been long hidden in her had been aroused and was poised to strike. She was just waiting for the right moment to make her move.
The door to her cell swung open as an attendant carrying a tray of food entered. 452 rubbed her wrists and arched her back, the guards watching her intently. She cocked her head to the side, seeing them eyeing her with interest. She closed her eyes and wriggled her body, seeming to attempt getting the kinks out of her weary bones. Her lids fluttered open enough to see that she had everyone's full attention and that the door was still wide open. She moved to take a step back and swayed, falling backwards as if she was too weak to stand. The closest man, the lab tech that was responsible for her release from the chains, reached out without thinking to catch her. Her full lips twisted into a dark smile as her hands clasped around his head above her. With one quick flick of her wrists, she heard the satisfying crunch of his neck snapping beneath her fingers.
Before any of the others had even realized what had happened, she made her next move. Her hands splayed behind her on the floor, she kicked out, wrapping her legs around the neck of a guard in front of her and quickly eliminated the threat. Two more to go, said the ever-fading logical voice in her mind. She curled her body in a motion almost too quick to follow, throwing her feet over her head, somersaulting backwards. On her way up, she'd grabbed the fallen guard's weapons, saving the gun for later use; it would only attract unwanted attention that she couldn't afford. The knives, however, would prove useful. She loosely gripped the handle of the bowie knife as she blurred forward with speed she hadn't even known she possessed. One quick draw of the blade and another guard was down. Flipping the knife around in her hand and balancing the blade between her fingers, she sent the knife flying, end over end, to land in the chest of the final guard.
Her slender fingers pulled off the lab tech's identification badge before she slipped silently out into the corridor. She closed the heavy steel door behind her and crept like the felines that had donated her their DNA. As she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, she grinned ferally. Propelling herself upward, she climbed into the ventilation shaft. The smells assaulting her nose told her which way was out and she moved through the small tunnels with ease and efficiency.
After 20 minutes, she was breathing in deep the fresh air that flowed in from the grate leading to the outside world. Pushing it aside, she jumped to the ground and blurred toward the gate with a speed and grace that would have warrented looks of awe if anyone had seen it. To the cameras on the roof, she was only a glitch in the picture. She knew it wouldn't be long before her escape was made known. She'd just gone AWOL and some part of her realized how wrong that was. But another, less prominent part also realized that what had been done to her was nowhere near military protocol. She launched herself over the tall steel fence effortlessly and began to follow the road that led north-west. As she ran there was only one thought in her mind. Her handlers had told her that her home base, the transgenic special operatives' base, had been in Seattle, Washington. She'd been transferred from there after her mission failure.
She knew she couldn't run all the way to Washington, but she was going to put as much space between herself and her captors as she could. The feel of the wind through her hair, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins was exhilarating, and would get her far enough away that she could risk hitching a ride, or acquiring transportation on her own.
I'm going home. The thought delighted her even though she couldn't remember what home looked like, or who or what was waiting there for her. I'm going home.
To Be Continued...
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