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A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. )
Fire and Blood
By: human28
Chapter Eighteen
CJ wandered around the dilapidated laboratory, entertaining himself with the slightly broken microscopes and other thingamajigs he could find. Of course, it wasn't long until he got bored. Night had fallen hours ago, and he was left with nothing but a dim flickering light bulb as his source of light.
His stomach had been complaining for several minutes now, and he knew he had to get out of this place.
As quiet as a mouse, he crept out of the lab and out into the alleyway. It was empty. There was not a transgenic in sight. Although he could see a number of bonfires blazing in the distance. With the figures of some nomalies grouped around it holding their hands out towards the fire.
Without further ado, he slunk across the city, and through the hole in the fence. And at last! Fresh air. If you could call the air in Seattle fresh. More like, polluted. CJ breathed in deeply before wondering what to do next. If he had cash, he would have headed into the nearest, and cheapest diner.
Unfortunately, he had none. But that didn't mean that he went without a few skills. Let's just say that being part of an evil family taught him a few tricks. Or maybe, living in a mental institution had taught him a few tricks. He could barely count the number of times in which he picked the lock of his cell door. Of course, he always never made it out. The guards always caught him.
But so what? He still had his hands, and his rather nimble fingers.
Like a thief in the night, CJ went into a nearby gasoline station, spying a few customers inside the mini-grocery store. Humming a cheerful tune, he went in unsuspected, and passed by a couple of the customers. By the time he exited the store, his pockets were not empty.
He smiled proudly at himself as he ducked into the nearest empty alleyway. Making sure that no one was in sight, he pulled out two wallets from his pockets. One had a hundred dollars in it, while the other merely had forty bucks. But it was more than he could've asked for. With a grin, he slipped into the nearest and cheapest diner that he could find.
…
"No junk DNA, huh?"
Logan jumped. He had been startled. By a transgenic. Again. He frowned and spun his swiveling computer chair around to face his all-too familiar intruders. "Didn't they teach you how to knock?"
"Apparently, they left that out of the guide book." Alec shrugged. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. Max was standing beside him, her expression entirely different. She looked curious. Really curious.
"Let me guess, Buffy told you all about it." He presumed.
"No. Giles did." Max said. "How come you never told me about this?"
Logan glared at them. "It wasn't like you dropped by that night when you said you would. I was going to tell you then. But you forgot, remember? And it all just slipped my mind with all that Dawn-confusion."
"Guess we can't blame him. It doesn't look like he has much of a memory." Alec said.
Logan chose to ignore him, but instead turned to look at Max. "I'm sure that you don't know much about the origins of Manticore." Alec and Max fell silent and stared at him with inquisitive eyes. "And neither do I."
Alec sighed exasperatedly, running a hand through his hair.
"But you could help me. We could work together. We could find out about Sandeman's reasons. Reasons on why he created you – why he created the transgenics."
"To defend and protect the country." Max stated in a monotonous voice.
Logan shook his head. "You really believe that?"
Alec frowned. "What do you know Logan?"
…
"It's been a while since we've done this."
Buffy turned to look at her companion. Night had long since fallen, and she had commenced her daily patrol. Faith had taken the night off and was probably at some club dancing and drinking with some guy. But Buffy could care less. Because you see, a certain someone had volunteered to come with her.
"Yeah. Feels like centuries ago." She murmured, more to herself than to him. They were walking through the half-empty streets of Seattle, keeping a watchful eye out for vampires and anything else out of the ordinary.
He took a long drag from his cigarette. "It's a little quiet out here, ain't it?"
"Spike! Don't say that!" she hissed. "You never, ever wish on a Hellmouth!"
Spike cocked an eyebrow. "We're not on a Hellmouth, luv."
"Well, you should still be careful. You'll never know what can happen --- "
CRASH!
The couple exchanged a glance. Buffy a bit more accusing. Spike just shrugged. "Probably just a dog or something. No need to get your knickers in a twist."
"Can you not use that term? It's really annoying." Buffy said, rushing over to the alley that they had heard the sound. They arrived just in time. A vampire had cornered a young man to the wall, and was just getting ready to feast on him.
"Are we interrupting something?" Buffy asked sweetly.
The vampire growled and dropped his victim to the ground. Spike casually leaned against the wall and lit another cigarette. He'll let the Slayer handle this one. Besides, he loved watching his girl fight.
In less than two minutes, the vampire had turned to dust.
"You're a Slayer!"
The would-have-been victim of the vampire had stood up from the ground and was slowly backing away from Buffy and Spike. He was pointing a trembling finger at Buffy. All the blood had drained from his face. His eyes were wide with disbelief and something akin to grief. He looked like he had seen a ghost.
But before Buffy could say anything, he turned and ran.
"Wait -- !"
"He's gone." Spike muttered, stunned. "Who the bloody hell was that bloke?"
"When in doubt. Go to Giles." Buffy said with a shake of her head. "I told you not to be careless!" she glared at Spike.
Spike glared back at her. "You really believe in those things? It was just a bloody coincidence!"
"I'm a Slayer Spike! Evil, dirty little things follow me everywhere!" she spun on her heel and headed off towards the direction of their apartment.
Spike followed suit. "I suppose I'm one of those evil, dirty, little things that follow you everywhere."
"Emphasis on the dirty part." Buffy threw over her shoulder, a small smirk on her face.
…
Rarely do you see Special Agent Ames White in a spectacular mood. It had been a pleasant day for him. Three successful kills. Wonderful. Just wonderful. He had yet to raise Otto's salary once again. That thermal imager was an ingenious answer to their problems.
Unfortunately for him, his good mood didn't last until nighttime.
"What do you mean he's gone?" White growled, pacing his office angrily. The guard cowered and backed several feet away from him.
"The surveillance cameras had been scammed, sir, by those intruders." The guard tried to explain. "We didn't see him escape. He climbed out of his window."
"Idiot." White muttered under his breath. "What the fuck was he thinking?"
"We already initiated a search. He couldn't have gone very far."
"It's been more than twenty-four hours. Tell me how that is a good thing?"
The guard gulped.
White banged his fist against the wall.
"Find him. Do whatever it takes. But leave him alive."
The guard nodded and hurried out of the office.
His brother might not be fit to be a Familiar, but he certainly was not stupid.
…
"I did some research on those Priestesses. It took me a while since all I had as basis were mere descriptions. But I was able to find something a few hours ago…"
They were presently sitting inside Logan's computer room, since the two transgenics made no move to leave without finding out what he knew about Manticore's origins.
"What do they have to do with Manticore?" Max asked curiously.
"More than you think." Logan sighed and rubbed his aching temples. Sometimes, too much research can give you a migraine. Add in the fact that he barely had much sleep since last night. "You see they're part of a very exclusive Cult that has been around for more than ten thousand years."
"A Cult?" Alec echoed. "That's just – strange."
"And you call bald-headed, snake-loving women normal?" Max asked incredulously.
"Good point."
"They're goal is to breed the ultimate race." Logan said in a low tone. "Thousands of years of selective breeding, and only those who pass the initiation become part of this race. Those who don't – die."
"This is all very interesting Logan, but I still don't see the connection with Manticore."
"Sandeman. Sandeman was part of the Cult."
"But that doesn't make sense." Max said with a frown. "If they're so keen on selective breeding. Then why the hell did Sandeman make us? Isn't that like, against the rules?"
"Insubordination?" Alec asked. "Is that it? Sandeman rebelled against the Cult to make us? Why?"
"That's what were here to find out." Logan said swiveling around to face his computer. He began keying in a number of passwords. "He has to have a base around here in Seattle."
"What makes you think that? For all we know, he could be wandering around in Timbuktu."
"For all we know, he could be living right next to us."
…
CJ ran blindly through the streets of Seattle, his instinct taking him where he knew he would be safe. He couldn't go back to Terminal City, by now, the sentries would be out keeping guard. And there was no way he could sneak in like this. He could barely think straight. Vertigo had come and embraced him.
And then he saw it. It was partially hidden behind overgrown bushes and layers and layers of weeds. It was evident that no one had lived in it for years. It had been abandoned. By him and his father.
As expected, the door was locked. CJ reached over and pulled one of the bricks from the wall. Concealed within was a key. He was surprised that no one had discovered it. It hadbeen around for more than a decade already. But hey, he wasn't complaining. Quickly, he opened the door and locked it behind him.
He was greeted by that dank and dusty smell that all old houses seemed to have. And there was the minor fact that it was pitch-black. He made his way through the house through mere memory – he felt like he was walking in a dream…or perhaps, a nightmare.
Finally reaching the kitchen, he pulled open one of the cupboards and found a pack of candles and a box of matches. He immediately lit several of the candles and placed them around the house.
He could feel warm tears streaming down his face as he wandered around the house – their house.
-- Flashback --
"Your mother was special." His father whispered to him silently. His dark eyes glittered with unhappiness and regret. It was early morning. The sun had not even risen yet. But the they were unable to fall asleep – not after what happened several hours ago…
…
He found himself sitting inside what used to be his bedroom. It was where he had hidden…helplessly listening to the horrific sounds that belonged to a scene that he was not able to witness…
He could remember screaming…
The sound of flesh hitting flesh…
And lastly, the smell of blood…
They had killed her.
…
And he remembered his father's wife storming into the house and slapping him, eyes burning with rage. Behind her followed her son. His half-brother. Ice-cold eyes glared at him.
"How dare you lie to me?" She screamed. "How dare you sleep with an abomination!"
His father made no move retaliate.
She continued on. "You are fortunate that you are still alive. And that weakling you call a son."
…
A weakling. He was defined as a weak and unsightly coward. He wasn't special like his mother. He wasn't a genius like his dad. He was just…CJ. A nobody. A weakling.
The main reason why he was imprisoned within a hospital made for the mad.
…
"Why did she die father?"
The answer had been simple.
"She was not one of us."
…
And CJ wept.
…
To be continued…
…
A/N: So what exactly was CJ's mother? Hmm…answers in the next chapter! For the meantime, REVIEW!