Of Wolves and Devils: A Dark Angel Fanfiction Story
Episode 3:
On top of the Space Needle…
Max comes to…gazing out at the smog in the world. Everything else is whizzing blurs of darkness and neon lights in her cat like eyes. The city below sharply resembles sea waves.
Blinking a little, she comments, "looks like I'm not in Seattle anymore. Slight laugh. Wherever here is." Her silvery blue top is a little beat.
She suddenly hears footsteps. Gunshots pierce through the Space Needle's glass windows. But, Max is already tumble dodging on her side: Away from the incoming bullets bouncing off not so shiny metal. Stepping out from behind the windows is a shadowy figure with fairly long really dark curly brown hair.
And, as Max tumbles to her feet... She sees…Max. A perfect mirror with a pale gray open jacket and a jet black top on a dark blue motorcycle.
Before Max can pick up what the hell is going on… The mirror Max charges her motorcycle straight for her. She tumble side kicks off of its front wheel to kick at her. But, the mirror Max has the advantage of a few lightning seconds. The mirror Max just laughs, "you should've kept your head in the game…Maxie."
She flip jumps off the motorcycle…tackling Max down against the crumpling in metal. The motorcycle explodes into the side with a full tank of gas. And, the whole Space Needle starts going up in flames.
Max punches into her side. But, the mirror Max just punches her back harder at the same time. Max goes crashing into the back metal wall. But, not before kicking the mirror Max hard at the metallic floor.
Both are dented and crumpling down on impact. Max calls out, "how cliché is it for a genetic clone to be the bitch of the day?! Violent cough! Do you even have a name for yourself, or is this all just you not getting your little genetic test tube grown brain out of your Manticore branded ass?"
The mirror Max pulls herself out of the dented floor, and walks right up to her. She mutters back, "you still don't get it. Do you, Maxie? Pathetic."
The fire is closing in all around them in seconds.
In spite of all of the smoke… Max comments in a matter of fact way, "if you really are… Violent cough! …a Manticore bitch… You'd know you've just compromised your mission by crashing the place down on us. Violent cough!"
The mirror Max slightly sighs, "ok. If that's how it's going to be…" She presses a tiny barcode like button on the side, just as the fire is almost upon them. And…the entire scene changes out.
Seconds later…
Max finds herself standing in a very dark forest clearing. Something about it feels familiar. A red balloon with a silvery joystick tied on its end passes by a tree.
And now standing in front of Max is the mirror Max. Now both in army green uniforms. She implies sadistically, "...it's time for a little lesson."
Max pushes back, "ok. What the hell is with the games?!"
The mirror Max echoes, "you still don't get it. Do you, Maxie?"
Max rolls her eyes impatiently, "no. But, I process quickly. Try me."
The mirror Max figures, "we're soldiers. This is enemy territory."
Flashes of Zack cycle through Max's mind…on the train tracks like it was yesterday. Max rushes over, "Zack?! Zack, talk to me." In tears, Zack says, "what more can I…violent cough…say? You're the…violent cough…better soldier. Couldn't…violent cough…be more…proud."
Max slightly scoffs, "for a minute there…you sounded almost like Zack."
The mirror Max mutters harshly, "everything else is a lie. You really should know better. But, we'll try it your way."
The scene changes out again.
Max finds herself at a expo, down in Redding, California.
The San Andreas Fault was torn apart in late 2009.
Driven insane people in cars, too dehydrated to know right from wrong, were crashing into random objects left and right. Over time, the ground became weak. And, enough little earthquakes became big ones. Southern California was reduced to little reefs.
And, this was what was left to rebuild with: Broken down cities of red bricks and gray cement spread out like giant laid out dominoes, with dome like complexes out of loosely assembled apartment floors for houses.
Though, after the Pulse… Solar power and wind turbine towers were built back up in a matter of a hard several months. They tower over the city…peering out for the smoggy patches passing along the clear blue filled sky.
Blurs of light stand still…like time itself has broken down.
The Digital Arcade Expo's blocky blue memory cards styled sign very slowly spins in the breeze. But, cobwebs are the only signs of life thus far.
The craftily painted wooden gold mine that is propped up backdrops shines brightly over barrel like arcade booths.
They have pull out black rimmed white keyboards under the joysticks and buttons to have a player ID to log in with: Much like for MMOs. One is bannered "Attack of the Neon Waves" in neon jelly and blue: With "neon light" jellyfish up against mutated sharks and seaweed. A second is bannered "Slime Night" in slimy green: Where green slime blobs with lasers have broken out of a top secret lab and are attacking the city. And, a third is bannered "Fire-Cide" in flaming red: With a water elemental against fire elementals in the endangered forests of yesterday.
Puzzled, Max slightly scoffs, "what's the dealio?" She's looking around the place, "hello?! Any clones bent on murder in here?! Sigh. Still… Worth a…shot."
She stops before a backdrop: One craftily painted with Max about to fall to the floor…before a creepily calm scientist with medium brown hair and a gray mechanic like uniform. He's wearing a pair of neurotransmitter circuit wired VR goggles, with neon blue swirls over gold. He looks like he just placed another pair like it on Max. But, with the swirls seeming to spin very fast and yet very still.
The mirror Max stands there…right behind Max like she never left.
With much contempt, she says, "you should have known better than to leave yourself tactically exposed. You died here…five seconds ago."
A few seconds later…
Without even turning around, Max mutters lowly and coldly, "no. My dreams are always like this. This isn't real: It's all just a screwed up dream made worse by seizures or something! Then, you go back to your pathetic corner of my mind and stay there. And, I wake up as the bitch everyone "knows and loves"."
In memory flashes, from the early morning…
Max casually asks, "Logan?" Logan says, "yeah?"
They're both in his apartment…with Logan at his computer like he so often is. He wears a light blue long sleeved shirt.
Max comes out from behind one of the Chinese screens, holding a jet black motorcycle helmet up and giving him a sharp look.
Max comments, "yeah. Mind telling me how this helmet keeps finding its way on my Ninja? Or, is it one of these guy kink things I never really got?"
Knowing she's not going to let it drop, Logan adds, "slight nervous chuckle. Well, if it's out there… I never got it either."
Max comments, "and here I thought you were going through my things again." Logan faintly smiles, "ohh, no. You'd know if I was."
Delicate sounding, Max insists, "so… What?" She's holding the helmet with both arms…not sure what to do with it yet.
Logan considers, "think of it as a birthday present a bit early." A little nervously, Max realizes, "oh. That's today?"
Logan checks, "why? What's wrong with celebrating today?" Max remarks, "well… Not if it comes with metal bars and a pair of handcuffs."
Logan explains uneasily, "it's not. I…just worry about you."
Max lets the helmet drop. Making her way toward him, she seductively suggests, "oh, Loogie…"
Logan figures, "I'm serious. Everyone else with motorcycles has got helmets." With a hand suggestively running up his leg, Max comments, "and that's sweet…in a pathetic kind of way."
Logan tries to say, "and Eyes Only wasn't legally approved before."
Max pulls back…realizing he's not in the mood. But, Logan doesn't seem phased at all: Knowing her like he does.
She figures, "so, the big guys demoted you and put out a dress code? Sounds like it's cutting into my stilo." She turns around, pacing a little.
Logan goes back to his point, "that's not what I meant. Sigh. I was too careless once. And, I ended up in a wheelchair for a good long while. I…just don't want you to go through what I had to go through."
In a better mood, Max turns around to him, "thanks for the thought. Really. But…I've gotten this far without one. And, that's how it's going to stay."
Logan reasons, "okay. But…be careful out there."
Max nods, "I will." She changes the subject just as quickly, "so…about this celebration thing… How does it work?"
Logan slightly chuckles, "well, that's pretty much up to you." Max slightly smiles, "all right. Your uncle's cabin. Late. And, you don't get to bail on me."
Logan figures, "yeah. About that… It's Margo's now." Max shrugs, "so? I'll stake out the place and give you the all clear. No big dealio."
Logan points out, "pink window curtains, Max. Might cut into your stilo."
Completely unphased, Max figures, "we can work around it. You coming?"
Logan smiles back, "wouldn't miss it."
Max bends over, kissing him. Pretty soon, temptation turns into making out.
Then, realizing they still got to breathe… They pull away.
They both just faintly chuckle awkwardly for a bit.
Max excitedly smiles. But, she starts her way out: Professionally so, in direct contrast to her smile.
She waves to him, "see you there." Not doing a very good job at not sounding awkward, Logan adds, "yeah. See you there."
Not very long after, with Jam Pony…
Syl realizes, "really?"
Original Cindy figures, "hm hmm. The all-girl team, shugga. Looking to kick it and everything." They're sitting up in the rec area. Original Cindy is in a gray sweatshirt over dark blue. Syl wears what she usually wears.
Syl thinks outright, "wow. Sounds like I missed out on a lot. You're not hitting on me, are you?" Original Cindy just smiles assuringly, "oh, no. You'd know if Original Cindy was." A little uneasily, Syl adds, "thanks."
Original Cindy insists, "no big dealio. So…what? Your school never had any dances or nothing?"
She knows about Syl and Krit's real story through Max. But, out among most everybody else… They keep it to themselves.
More uneasy in another direction, Syl recalls, "not really. Just training this and training that. Felt a lot like military school, to be honest."
Original Cindy reflects, "Original Cindy can appreciate the power of a man or a woman in uniform. Sure can't imagine going in as one though."
In thankfulness, Syl implies, "trust me. It's better you can't."
Original Cindy solemnly nods, "I hear that."
Normal calls out, "hey! I don't pay you bums overtime to socialize on work hours. Bip bip bip!" He's standing front and center, motioning to his watch. All the bike messengers start getting back to work: Their attention slowly moving away from the TV.
Syl comes down to face Normal herself, "and what does that make me?"
Normal surmises, "just what I usually have to work with. Nothing personal, kid."
From high up, Original Cindy comments sarcastically, "well, listen to Mister Double Standards over here!"
Normal figures, "yeah. Well, the high horse looks good until it gets lost."
Original Cindy says confidently, "no, Normal. It's for real. I got connections. Aiight?"
Normal voices, "well, then I don't know nor care. You know where the door is. Don't forget to take your ungrateful smugness with you." Original Cindy comments, "neither do I." Syl almost can't resist laughing at that one.
Original Cindy adds, "looks like you're all good, Syl. Later." Syl slightly chuckles, "thanks. Later, Original Cindy."
She turns back to Normal, "high horse? Sounds kind of personal, if you ask me." A little more than a little embarrassed, Normal figures, "well, put enough bums together…and it's the only thing that gets them going."
He calls out, "also… Got twenty hot runs for Seaview Avenue and Fuhrman Avenue! Very delicate equipment. Anyone drops them, and it's coming right out of your paycheck! As in…no paycheck." Groans are heard from all over.
Twenty big packages are all gathered in a neat pile in the back: With small blocky memory card styled labels for Digital Arcade Expo stickered on.
Normal adds, "and, that's not double standards. We're not insured enough. And, we don't have enough lying around to cover it. Now, let's go. Bip bip!"
And, in just seconds…the pile is far from neat as bike messengers nervously scramble to get the packages out.
Syl plans out, "and I can be sure to get right on that. But…would you mind if I go with Sketchy?" Normal suspiciously asks, "ok. Why?"
Syl reasons quickly, "Sketchy is the most likely to drop a package?"
With a package in his hands, Sketchy turns to look at her, "what?"
Impressed sounding, Normal says, "done." Syl slightly smiles, "thanks."
She walks right up to Sketchy, in his red and white painting like sweatshirt.
Struggling to keep the package from falling, he insists, "ok. What's going…?!" Syl whispers hintingly, "us, if you don't argue."
Sketchy slyly smiles, "outstanding." And…the package starts to fall out of his hands as he says it. With her reflexes, Syl catches part of it upright.
She lowly says, "give me that! And, grab another box. Then we're good." Both nervous and not, Sketchy lets her have the package. He slightly nods, "got it." Syl smiles back, as he walks back over to grab one of the few packages left.
A hour and fifty minutes later… Along Seaview Avenue…
The busy cement cemented docks of Hiram M. Chittenden Locks are tagged with graffiti and plagued with trash. So many motorboats come in and out, that no one cares worth a shit for the place.
Up against a tree to the side are two unloaded mostly black bikes. And, in a unattended motorboat…are Syl and Sketchy: Topless and making out "very closely". Their pants and other clothes are up against some bluish chairs. And so is a silvery stopwatch, at eight minutes and counting.
Presently…
The mirror Max figures, "then why aren't you already up?"
Max slowly gets up from crouching. More puzzled than ever, Max realizes nervously, "damn. For a pathetic part of my mind…you can be right 100 percent."
The mirror Max suggests, "are your memories finally catching up to you?" Max sarcastically voices, "is that the sick feeling of residual gross man genes? Cause, I'm sure starting to feel some."
In memory flashes, from as far back as the mid afternoon…
The Digital Arcade Expo's blocky blue memory cards styled sign spins in the breeze. All the arcade booths and their circuitry are being assembled by technicians in gray mechanic like uniforms.
Max is walking in past the sign, wearing her Eyes Only International badge over her jet black catsuit. But, with a medium blond wig for good measure.
Some of the men wolf whistle at Max as she passes.
But, when she decks one of them… They back off and nervously get back to work. She mutters under her breath, "men."
She continues walking to a blue bricked security booth, under a jaggedly put together parking lot complex. Little cobwebs are in the unevenly made corners and cracks, hiding deeper under the foundation.
At the security booth, Max checks in, "so…who do I talk to about security detail for this big event of yours?"
She closes the little door to the security booth behind her. On the other side of the front window…is Sydney Bloom in a raggy dark gray T-shirt: With several security monitors stacked behind her and her computer briefcase in front of her.
Sydney just lightly says, "we already are talking about it."
A little amused, Max realizes, "okay. Thought you were more the secret spy computer type. But, I can get down with this."
With a slight chuckle, Sydney reasons, "well, I am the best spymaster I know." Max comments, "sure looks it. What about Eyes Only though?"
Sydney puts it out there, "actually… This is where it all started. Well, not in Redding. But, most everything Logan knows about computers has come from me. For that matter, most everything that runs America now…has come from me. I don't always like to think about it. But, it's helped us get back on our feet. And, it sure has helped us get this far if nothing else."
Max muses, "slight chuckle. So, Eyes Only had a guardian angel watching everyone's backs from start up. Who would have thunk?"
Sydney faintly chuckles, "something like that."
Presently…
The mirror Max urges, "all coming back to you now?"
Max reasons, "just about. But…it's really bent how long these seconds are dragging for. If you're right… Wouldn't I be dead by now?"
The mirror Max mutters temperamentally, "it's the sense blocker goggles! Never tested on bitches like us. A very slow, painful death. Parallel processing is just making it go even slower. All because you didn't listen!" She looks about ready to punch somebody. Anybody.
Max reasons, "well, if that's how this bitch is working…maybe I can jumpstart it. Bring myself back. That sounds like what either of us would do. Don't it?" The mirror Max comments, "maybe."
In memory flashes…
The Digital Arcade Expo is lit with wire hanging headlights in the night: Stretching through the mainland of California and the Willamette Valley of Oregon. Sector Police and the common people have come from across the whole west coast to see and play arcade games. A lot of the people have black or white robes, in honor of their respective churches. The expo is both a valiant effort to find some common ground, and to showcase what the computers of America can achieve for a new wave of independent media and technology companies.
Max's mission here is fairly simple: Check all weapons and bombs at the door, and be on hand to deal with any deadly situation that may arise. Sydney is on hand as backup in both instances.
But…it was all about to get real complicated real fast.
A creepily calm scientist with medium brown hair and a pair of neon blue swirled gold neurotransmitter circuit wired goggles had snuck in as early as mid afternoon: Disguised as a arcade technician.
And, with some spare parts of his own… He left one of the arcade booths reconfigured to extend out up to three neurotransmitter circuit wired VR goggles to anyone who enters.
His name is Matt Donin. In the days before the Pulse…he was rejected from contributing his neurotransmitter circuit wired goggles to a video game company on moral grounds. Now, he's resurfaced to try again: Whatever it takes.
It happens to be a rather young father, his daughter, and his son who enters.
Seconds later… They all sit there motionless, with the goggles on. All five senses are neurally blocked in a instant to the point of reducing them to vegetables: For the moment. But, it's long enough for Matt to make his official appearance.
Panic is already hitting the streets. But, the Sector Police stand their ground and rally everyone in groups for protection. And, that calms some nerves down.
Matt demands, "I know Eyes Only is sponsoring. And, I don't want any unnecessary trouble. So, this is how it's gonna be: Give me all the technology and finances I need to have my own company in one hour. And, I'll let them all go."
Max remarks, "you know…your kind of practice is crap for business. How about this?" She flip kick jumps right at him very quickly. All the while, she's going on, "you release them, and I consider…?"
Matt surprisingly reactively blocks her with his arms up, sending her back against the pavement.
She tumbles back to her feet. Only, a little bruised. Max remarks, "damn! Can't I not get my ass kicked three times in a row?!"
Matt shrugs, "not my problem."
Max figures, "of course it isn't. Neurotransmitters in boy toy goggles? Slight chuckle. You're not even trying to hide that you're a whack."
Matt faintly smiles at her, "very astute, Miss Max. I got my prototype. Gives me enhanced senses. I'm afraid your security chief wasn't as astute."
Max gets up. She mutters threateningly, "what did you do to her?" Matt answers her, "she's just unconscious: For now. But, no one has to die tonight."
Thinking on her feet, Max says, "you're right about that. If it's Eyes Only you want to get attention from for your little pet project… You don't need to bring others into it." Matt figures, "keep talking."
The Sector Police are coming back very shortly: Back with their guns ready.
Max proposes, "let's just say I'm a very valuable agent. Release them…and I'll be your hostage. They'll be sure to give a listen."
Matt figures, "that's all I'm really after. But, no sudden moves." He goes over to the arcade booth with the motionless people to get the goggles a little loose: Buying himself time to get away before they slide off and smash on the floor.
Max comments annoyedly, "yeah. It'd be a real bitch: We'd be here all night." Matt concludes, "fair enough."
Max is about to fall to the floor…before Matt in his arcade technician disguise. He places a second pair of neurotransmitter circuit wired VR goggles on Max: With the swirls spinning very fast.
Matt makes a run for it…carrying a motionless Max over his shoulder.
The Sector Police almost get a chance. But, the smashing of the goggles from within the arcade booth ends up setting off their aim. The three motionless people start coming to…very much confused and nauseated by the whole thing.
One of them mutters, "of all the… Damnit! Get me the chief." A second one says nervously, "yes, sir." She passes by a third officer…who has just found Sydney's knocked out body in the parking lot complex on ground level.
Presently…
Getting up again… Max impatiently insists, "so…what am I missing here?"
The mirror Max mutters, "we're stranded in your mind with no mission. No enemies. You threw away your freedom, just for the enemy!"
Max talks back to her, "what the hell are you talking about?! I took down Manticore, the Red Series, Synthedyne… Basically fighting the power in Seattle and then some."
The mirror Max recalls, "and you used to know that everyone else is the enemy." Max mutters, "shut up."
The mirror Max pushes, "you threw away your chance to kill Lydecker when you had him, just for more than enough reconnaissance. You let Manticore kill Brin and Zack, because you're just too damn compassionate for your enemy!"
Flashes of Tinga, Ben, Brin, and Zack dying again and again cycle through Max's mind like a mental hurricane. On the brink of tears, Max shouts, "shut up!"
She impulsively punches the mirror Max down. The mirror Max tumbles back to her feet, getting back up. She slightly smirks eerily, "you want to take me on? Go ahead! You're already so far up your ass, that it's pathetic!"
The wooden backdrops give way to a cave: The very same cave Zack and Max retreated into when they tried to remember the others in Zack's care in time to warn them about Manticore.
Max tackle charges the mirror Max against the cave wall. She head butts Max, dazing her long enough to spin hurl her through the wall. Out in the dark forest clearing beyond, Max is coughing violently: Very dizzy and coughing dark red liquid on the ground. She tumbles back uneasily to her feet, just as the mirror Max almost punches her out.
Crouching to the side, Max suddenly realizes, "wait. Violent cough! I see through…your bent little game." The mirror Max taunts, "is that right?"
Max figures it out, "you're not just a pathetic part of me: You're my inner bitch. The bitch inside my head that howls at the full moon. The bitch that gets bent on hurting anyone in her way…which is this time me."
Her wound vanishes, like it was never there. Though, she's still very dizzy.
In mixed feelings, the mirror Max slightly sighs, "except that makes all the difference, Maxie. I wanted to let you down easy, because this mission has given me the tactical advantage to get us back to what we were meant to be: A soldier." She's standing there, looking ready to finish it.
Getting up, Max highlights coldly, "that's where you're wrong: I am the better soldier. Just not the one you have in mind."
The mirror Max figures in cold anger, "sure doesn't look like you are. Good night, little Maxie." She punches at her.
Max figures, "think again." She catches the mirror Max's arm in mid-dodge spin, and breaks it in half under her shoulder. The mirror Max winces in pain, as she clutches her arm.
Max sharply points out, "if I didn't have "so much" compassion…you'd be dead. I'm not going to kill you. Because, then I'd be killing myself."
Glaringly, the mirror Max mutters, "you already are."
Max scoffs, "yeah. Keep telling yourself that. And, while you're getting all pissed off in circles…this bitch is going back to the world." She walks away…leaving the mirror Max behind in a fading away dreamscape of the mind.
Presently, in the real world…
Max comes to: With the goggles still on, and the swirling grinding to a halt.
She gradually takes them off…taking in her surroundings.
She finds herself lying on the gray back seat of a mostly red still car: With Matt at the wheel, and a open gray cellular phone between the front seats.
Some cement made train tracks are not far off…in a wide field of grass. A few Californian dome like complexes aren't far off either.
Not making any sudden moves…Max checks if he's noticed yet. He doesn't.
She snaps the goggles in half, letting the micro-circuits dangle.
Very much shocked, Matt turns around, "what the…?!"
Max slightly smirks, "yeah. I get that reaction a lot. I'd run like hell, while you can still walk." While she's been talking…she managed to hotwire the goggles back on themselves and snap the wires.
She lets the sparks fly, lighting the dashboard aflame.
Matt grabs his cellular phone and starts running for it.
Max tosses the goggles into the dashboard, making a bigger fire. She tumble jumps backwards, smashing through a side window and grabbing the wig in mid-tumble. The fire burns straight through the dashboard and into the engine.
The car explodes…knocking out Matt off his feet from the impact alone.
On the next day, on a cloudy afternoon…
Past the train tracks of Seattle… Up on a familiar looking hill… There be Zack's tombstone.
And, the empty DNA vial he took from the DNA lab. Max has just laid it down before the tombstone…as the closest thing to flowers for a solider like him.
With his arms around her, Logan reflects, "you really miss him."
Holding back a lot of tears, Max sniffles, "he's my brother. He deserved more. Hell…we all did."
Logan points out, "no. It's more than that."
Max comments, "it's that obvious, huh?"
Logan figures, "for someone who knows you as well as I do? Maybe it is. It's survivor's guilt, Max. And, it doesn't get any easier to live with."
With a hint of amusement, Max wonders, "not even for someone who's seeing the great and powerful Eyes Only?"
Logan concludes, "afraid not. I wish I could help make it easier. But, I can't." Max figures assuringly, "more than you think. Just don't be so down on yourself for me. That'd be just whack."
Logan suggests, "you want to stay up here for a bit?"
Max faintly smiles, "why not? The world will still be around when we go back." She starts crouch sitting down in front of the tombstone. Logan faintly smiles back, "sounds good."
They both just sit there together: Gazing out past the clouds over the world.