Of Wolves and Devils: A Dark Angel Fanfiction Story
Episode 5:
Up in Logan's apartment…
Logan points out, "you know, when you offered to help…I wasn't expecting you to dust the floor too."
Max is sitting in the middle of the wooden floor, with open manila files full of classified papers and clipped on photos: All out in a three ringed circle. She wears a bright gold open army jacket over black. Logan is standing there next to the couch in a gray long sleeved shirt: His back to the smoggy sky.
Slightly amused, Max adds, "I'm not: Unless you're paying. This is reconnaissance." Logan figures, "I should've known."
Max reasons out loud, "you would think so. Slight chuckle. A girl can never have too much money in this world." Logan goes, "uh-huh. So you're just going to knock on all of their doors and say trick or treat?"
Max rolls her eyes innocently like. She comments, "not what I meant. Do people still celebrate Halloween? With all the ghosts and lightning and fencing?"
Logan deduces, "everyone that celebrated before and then some." With a faint smile, Max figures, "fair enough."
More business like, Logan urges, "all right. What candidates have you got?"
Max jumps up, flip kicking off the floor and swinging off the ceiling to avoid getting the papers any less dirty. After landing on her feet, she takes out some candidate files from under her jacket. Max smirks, "ka-boom."
Tempted to say more, Logan awkwardly chuckles, "you could've just cleaned up." Max smiles playfully, "what would be the fun in that?"
Logan starts going through the files. And, a tense nervousness starts to show.
Even as she pulls him in close… Max quickly picks up on it, "what?"
Logan nudges her arms off, much to her surprise. He turns to her, "what's wrong? Let me break it down for you, and you just might get the picture."
Looking fairly shaken, Max adds, "well, don't let me stop you."
Logan deeply sighs. He holds up a file of a former military officer with silver streaked messy medium blond hair, and a file of a guy with black medium hair and a light blue swordfish tattoo on the arm. Logan says, "Shelly Guvorn. Charged with several accounts of anger issues with authority. Dishonorably charged from service for killing her own commander. Given parole in recent months…after two years of rioting and attempted assaults in prison. Luke Grandon. Together on the outside. But, with a serious case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder since 2009. Still needs to see a counselor five days a week."
Max glares, "and now you're saying I need to? That's just bent!"
She starts to storm out.
Very shaken, Logan voices, "I'm sorry. That's… That's not what I meant." More sad than angry now, Max calls back, "then don't make me guess: Tell me!"
Logan spells it out, "deep sigh. All the candidates you picked are like the old you, Max. In one way or another…they all are. And they wouldn't be ready."
Teary eyed, Max mutters harshly, "and that's supposed to make it sound better than locking me up in a mental place?" Trying to break it down calmly, Logan reasons, "it's not supposed to sound that way at all. They all have potential to be better. And maybe someday they will be. Point taken. But, they're not all ready to be agents: Especially if they're not ready to play well with others. You sure weren't when I first tried to reach out to you. And look what happened. What makes you think that people like Shelly or Luke are going to be much different?"
Looking stunned and embarrassed, Max voices, "wow. Coming from you…it sounds like whack for everyone else's asses. Thanks."
Logan says, "don't mention it."
Max wipes a few tears away. She says, "except I should. Sorry for getting all bent at you like that." Logan faintly smiles, "thanks. See you later?"
Max adds, "yeah. Later: At a better time." Logan reasons, "fair…enough."
Max pauses, "what is it?" She sees him perfectly from across the room. But, she walks over anyway to take a look.
Logan looks puzzled, "just got a call to Eyes Only from Huntington, Utah. Except it isn't a call: It's email." A email is indeed up on his computer screen. And, it sure doesn't look like it's from a government agency.
She realizes, "I better go check it out."
Logan figures, "right. I gotta get to work soon myself."
Max says, "later." Logan adds, "later."
She heads out the door…leaving Logan with a lot of files, a lot of thoughts, and a very interesting message up on the screen.
Around this time, down the graffiti filled streets of Seattle…
Out on a street corner… There be a guy with a brown robe and long black uncut dreadlocks, smoking marijuana. He's got a rack on wheels, with a cardboard sign in dark blue lined green graffiti saying "All Truth, All In Spite of Evil".
Hanging from it are thin rolled up papers, with a news story printed on each.
The headline reads: L.A. Tremors Rise Above the Prax Max Corporate Wheel. It goes on to talk about things such as "staged play by play played", "fans all over had believed they had won when they in truth did not", "L.A. Tremors and Seattle Seahawks fans rioted over a wicked misunderstanding", and "players broke into the Prax Max boss's house and delivered him to the Sector Police all beat up: No questions asked of all things".
A dark brown short haired man walks up, offering a dollar to the other man.
A very familiar voice insists, "I no need your money, man. Business concern only Jah. Jah is fulfilling the book and passing it down to the people."
The guy slightly smiles, "yes, sir."
He puts the money back into his wallet and walks on with his copy.
For the guy who be on this street corner giving it out…is Herbal Thought: Undercover as a homeless Rastarfari activist in dreadlocks. Undercover for Eyes Only as such a man, to speak of truth to the people.
A hour and a half later, out in Huntington…
Utah was technically hit by the Pulse. But, with most of the populace deep within the Wasatch Front…the electricity didn't just go out. Before it could go out, they were able to plan for it: With waterwheels and windmills along the rivers.
Most every grove of trees has become farmland for a growing populace.
The Benches along the Wasatch Front are full of rock and brick cobbled together houses to the point of looking like a stone age Los Angeles. The winding desert roads stand as a testament to years of hard labor before the towering cliffs.
The crime is just as rampant in the early morning: Especially among the younger and older generations. And, Huntington is no different.
In recent years, the younger people have developed a formidable umbrella cult following: From the polygamous, gay, and lesbian to the punk rock, stripper, and gambling fans. They collectively call themselves The Moral Compass just to give conservatives the middle finger.
The sun casts a long shadow over Huntington. The town has been taken over by a faction of The Moral Compass.
Thirty one military officers and their loved ones are dead in their beds: Shot in their sleep. Some got up and struggled to fight. But, ultimately failed.
A lot more in army green are critically wounded on the rustic roads.
A scared shitless officer with medium black hair sent the email to Eyes Only in desperation…before his cell phone was shattered by a former military officer with dark brown hair in suggestive pink lingerie. Her name is Melissa Striker.
Most of the younger people were kidnapped. And, most of the older people were shot in their cotton made beds: Mormons in particular.
And, the rest of the state could be next. That's where Max comes in.
On top of a red bricked general store's flat roof are the children and teenagers: Knocked out and tied up in improvised cotton sheet bundles. Ten ex-military officers in lingerie and boxer briefs are gathered up on the roof, with dark brown stone crafted shoulder pads and matching rifles.
Melissa comments, "scoff. Call me crazy. But, I ain't seeing why we have to go to this much trouble. We won." A officer with short black hair and boxers mutters, "they're not the only enemy." His name is Dave Heidal.
Max flip swings up from below, landing on her feet before them. Dave claps his hands. He comments, "nice dàmén, Max. Almost didn't think you'd show."
Max uncertainly realizes, "you know who I am?"
In a more mechanical creepy voice, Dave says, "Daisy did. And…now I have you at a disadvantage."
With some faint mechanical whirls sounding off…Dave jump kicks Max off the roof. He calls out, "get the kids out: I got this!"
Melissa nods. She calls the other ex-military officers to order.
They're forming a human conveyor belt for the bundles of bed sheets with their bare hands: To drop down to two mostly dark red loading trucks, with white cushions tied tight to the back of the trucks.
Max crash lands violently into the next flat roof over, with the concrete collapsing in. She roll tumbles over the blue lined white kitchen counter in mid-fall, barely landing on her feet. A tea kettle clinks hard to the floor from the cracked counter, spilling boiling hot water over the crack and over.
Max violently groans, clutching her heavily bruised side.
Over comlink, she checks, "Sydney?"
Over communications, Sydney answers, "yeah. What's up?" Max sums up, "there's two trucks out there. And the kids are going to be taken if we don't hurry."
The ex-soldiers are heading downstairs. Dave is high jumping all the way to the collapsed in roof, armed with two rifles.
Sydney acknowledges, "ok. But, can't you reach them?"
Another part of the roof collapses. Dave tumble kicks off of the rubble to land where Max is. Max instinctively grabs the fallen kettle and blocks his incoming fist with it. Max pinpoints, "not with this pesky bastard in my way! How good are you at cybernetics?"
The rubber skin around the fist is half peeling as the kettle's metal completely bends around it. Yet…Dave is fighting off the intense pain as if it didn't go through. Motor oil, boiling hot water splashes, and dark red liquid is dripping from it in smoke. Max sees it all with her cat like eyes in seconds.
A little rattled, Sydney reasons, "I know a few things. Why?"
Max drops the kettle and ducks as Dave tries to slam it into her. The dented in kettle crashes into a glass cabinet: With glass falling down like thunder.
Max says, "it's kind of a long story. You being jammed?"
Sydney figures, "not really. The new protocol is in place."
Max slightly laughs at the infuriated Dave as she run kick tumbles her way through a painted window. She acknowledges, "good. See what you can do about those trucks first." Sydney adds, "already on it."
At roughly the same time, in a certain classified Eyes Only headquarters…
On one side of the hall, two darkrooms have been repurposed as a compact cafeteria with some cobbled together metal tables and benches. A few chefs in white aprons are preparing the lunch of the day. Past a doorway to the side of the hall is Sketchy: Working on cataloguing at his dust lined wooden desk.
And on the completely other end of the hall… There's two eerie echoes of the past. More specifically, in a locker room of shipped in green lockers.
Kalins and O'Neill are checking their rifles, tasers, walkie talkies, and personal items in their lockers: Like most all the officers do just about every hour.
The Committee may be gone. But, that's left the military still holding most of the cards. So, the only way for Eyes Only International to get its quick startup was to take in most of them: Who had been involved with Manticore before it went under. And, they're not particularly happy about the whole thing themselves.
Kalins wonders casually, "so, you going to the game tonight?" In a quiet but firm tone, O'Neill faintly chuckles, "of course I am: If the radar is clear."
Kalins sighs coldly, "I know the feeling, O'Neill. Logan's "little" X-5 slut and all her "little" friends are smart bombs waiting to go off under our fine cities."
Most of the officers are heading down the hall: Ready to eat soon. A few officers overhear Kalins. But, they mostly just disturbingly chuckle about it.
One of them calls back, "before or after lunch?" Kalins and O'Neill faintly chuckle back. Kalins half jokingly says, "I'd like after." The third officer adds, "I hear that. See you up there." Kalins figures, "yeah. See you up there."
The third officer walks out of the locker room.
O'Neill uncomfortably mutters under his breath, "right. Damn right."
Back in Huntington…
Max acknowledges, "good. See what you can do about those trucks first."
Sydney adds, "already on it." She's right outside her red lined silver ramjet: With hover engines for landing gear to help with faster liftoff and takeoff.
She's in a purple and greenish blue plaid long sleeved open buttoned shirt over black: Holding a circuit covered black crossbow styled EMP gun with light brown rubber gloves. The fairly large electromagnetic rods at the back sides charge up and direct the generated EMP for long distance accuracy when pulled back.
With a backhand hold on both rods, Sydney aims between both trucks.
The Moral Compass faction starts driving the trucks out. Sydney runs in their direction, turning around a light yellow house.
She faintly chuckles, thinking to herself, "nowhere to go but back."
And as soon as the trucks start going at 60 miles a hour…she fires.
The trucks's batteries go out and buckle under stress. Melissa's little army of ex-soldiers try to turn the trucks around fast to stop from going too far off course.
But…the back of one turns straight through the other's front window as its battery goes out. And, the two ex-soldiers inside jump out quick on impulse as the front window shatters. Most of the other ex-soldiers hold on fairly well to the back.
Melissa comes out of her truck, glaring at them all. She shouts, "what the hell happened?!" One of them quickly figures out, "EMP gun. Miles from here."
Melissa mutters harshly, "ain't shouldn't be possible. You sure one of you isn't sticking it to us?! Cause if I find out one of you is…I'll beat the living shit out of ya!" Heated arguing ensues…even with the Utah military coming in tanks to see what the hell is going on themselves.
Through a pair of binoculars, Sydney knows exactly what's doing. She just shakes her head as she heads further back into town.
Simultaneously…
Dave comes out through the wooden door, ripping it off its hinges on the way. He jump slams it into Max from behind to protect himself.
Max smirks, "ohh. I'm not getting your pathetic ego hurt, am I?"
She spins around to splinter the door with her fist. But…Dave expects it.
As soon as he's on his feet…he kicks her across the road.
Max almost chokes on the dark red liquid around her mouth, gasping for air. She punches her own side to make a trail of dark red liquid come out: Coughing violently and losing vision in a blur.
Dave spits to the side. Almost emotionlessly, he says, "check again. I'm not the weaker one: You are for turning us down…when you are about to die."
He walks slowly over towards Max's body…pulling his rifles back out. And, he's about ready to fire.
But then… A focused EMP pulse hits him.
Simultaneously, Sydney mutters under her breath, "not if I can help it."
Dave interestingly closes his eyes…just before the focused pulse hits him.
Sparks of fried circuitry courses through his nervous system…as a trail of motor oil and dark red liquid bursts up from his burning chest.
Max shakily stands on her two feet. She adds, "thanks." Then, she passes out on the pavement. Sydney sighs nervously, "don't…mention it. What…?"
She pauses to briefly look at the burnt all over corpse.
She mutters to herself, "what is…?" Sydney holds up a short circuited dark red liquid soaked neural microchip from Dave's body: Short circuited on purpose in response to his thoughts, along with most of every circuit in his body.
She thinks out, "he knew. Somehow, he knew what I would hit him with. Except, if he knew…"
Then… She goes wide eyed. And, it all becomes too clear, "ohh…no."
Back in Seattle…
A vaguely familiar clean shaven military captain in army green, a very dark blue cap, and a black bulletproof vest underneath is getting into a elevator.
The sight of the tan red and black lined lobby disappears behind the automatically closing silver door. He presses one of the upper level buttons quick…ensuring no one else got in with him. Then…the elevator suddenly jerks.
He grabs ahold of the railing, keeping himself upright.
He mutters, "what the hell is wrong with…?"
The elevator opens on a high-rise rooftop: Overlooking Logan's apartment.
And standing there with a gun pointed right at the captain's head…is Logan.
He greets him coldly, "hello, Captain. Thought I'd find you up here."
In a all too certain location…
Most everyone is eating in the cobbled together cafeteria: From guys in dark gray uniforms to guys in street clothes. Including Bling in a white undershirt and Sketchy in a open mostly light yellow and dark green lined sweatshirt.
Kalins's cellular phone rings. He picks it up in the middle of conversation. He says to O'Neill and company, "sorry. Got to take this."
O'Neill adds, "no problem." He and a few other military officers at the same table continue on, while Kalins steps back out into the hall.
He says very lowly, "yeah? All set? Good." He hangs up.
Kalins pries open a left loose end of railing. And inside…are a few grenades.
Back with Logan…
With nothing but contempt in his voice, the captain comments, "so you're the Eyes Only clown. Only I didn't hear you were the "team captain"."
He's the same guy from many months ago: The same one who was ready to storm in and shoot down Jon Darius, no matter how many hostages could die.
Logan points out, "yeah. Kind of the point of being behind a mask. So, who's pulling the strings around here?"
The captain faintly laughs, "you're in over your head, Eyes Only."
He slams Logan's hand into the elevator doorway with his right. The shot goes off in the elevator, hitting the captain harmlessly in the shoulder part of his bulletproof vest. Logan keeps a faint grip on the gun, even with his throbbing hand.
Logan mutters under his breath, "why stop now?" He punches the captain with his other arm, sending him crashing violently against the elevator.
He clutches both of his hands as they're throbbing in pain. And, he drops the gun. He runs out quick out the elevator and further out onto the roof.
The captain sits up…coughing up a little dark red liquid as he reaches for Logan's gun. And, he reaches up for the open door button.
Logan gets to his wheelchair…oddly placed this far up. He catches his breath, crouching behind the silvery like chair. Logan heavily sighs, out of being a little out of breath. He thinks to himself, "I really hoped I didn't have to use this chair again. But, there's no other way." He takes out a jet black remote control.
As soon as the elevator opens up again…the captain stands ready. He just shakes his head, "faint laugh. You have got to be shitting me. You really think a little wheelchair is going to stop me from shooting you?"
As he gets up to try though… He's looking up…filled with sudden terror.
The wheelchair's armrests pop off: Revealing two gray rifles underneath.
Logan flips the switch. And, before the captain can get out of the way… Both angled up rifles shoot him down at the neckline.
A trail of dark red liquid flies down…as he falls back over dead.
Logan disarms the chair. Then, he gets up and walks over to the dead body.
Trying not to look too long at the body…Logan reaches for the captain's cellular phone. He figures, "now let's see what's going down."
Earlier that day, in the locker room…
Somewhat skeptic sounding, O'Neill muttered, "right. Damn right. And when is this "big defusion" supposed to be happening?! Smart bombs can only be up in the air for so long. And I don't know about you. But, I'd like my wife and me and all our battalion to live for a long time to come."
Bordering on psychotic, Kalins remarked, "I wouldn't be in such a good mood if it wasn't today. Once we're sure the X-5 is nowhere near this facility…we will resolve the situation. For all of us. For Lydecker."
O'Neill and him shook on it. As he did…he echoed back, "for all of us."
Presently…
Before anyone knows what's happening… The grenades are thrown in.
Fire is spreading quick. Everyone either runs for it or stands their ground.
O'Neill and the few with him are left standing: Among a good half of the military personnel. With oxygen masks on. Most of the officers get the full force of the impact: Scorched to death without time to even draw a gun.
Sketchy crouches low. Bling motions for several guys mostly in mostly white Eyes Only security shirts to follow him in. He calls out, "O'Neill?!"
Kalins and a few officers that just came around from the back start tossing rifles over to the officers in gas masks: Including O'Neill.
O'Neill shouts, "everyone on the ground: Now!"
Shots ring through the cafeteria. Glasses and plates smash like thunder.
All the while, the sprinkler system is putting out most of the fire.
In cold anger, Bling mutters, "not if we beat on your cowardly asses first."
Wearing a bulletproof vest and holding up a few…Bling charges for Kalins.
The two side vests are shot away by the momentum of the shots. But, it shields security long enough to load their rifles. And, for most everyone else to get away.
Sketchy runs out the emergency exit, getting lost in the crowd.
Kalins and the few officers in back though gun down several people in street clothes and light blue uniforms: With no hesitance. O'Neill though, who sees it from the corner of his eye…looks very much appalled.
Before he can say act on it though…Bling tackles him violently into a table.
Security shoots many bullets at Kalins's officers: Hoping to at least knock them down from impact to buy themselves some time.
O'Neill's gun goes flying. A burst goes off. But…O'Neill only looks briefly stunned on the head: Despite a lot of metal going into his very torn up uniform. No sign of dark red liquid. And for the first time…Bling looks speechless.
O'Neill faintly chuckles, "nice try. But, we're protecting this country. And, you're in the way." He kicks Bling extremely hard in that instant…sending him crashing through the shattering kitchen window.
Bling is left barely breathing: With some dark red liquid around his mouth and neck, and lying against the refrigerator.
The bullets just bizarrely bounce back into the security officers's rifles: Exploding them from within. They let go in reaction, clutching their reddened hands with a few dark red liquid dropping from them.
Kalin's officers waste no time punching them and kicking them out.
O'Neill picks up his rifle, and walks over to Bling's body. Bling utters, "you'll…violent cough…never get…" And…O'Neill shoots him.
Twenty five minutes after, high above the clouds…
Sydney's ramjet is zooming overhead…heading for the faintly visible wind turbine towers of California. Max is piloting, and Syl is in the co-pilot seat: Both in black catsuits. The cockpit is mostly gray, with a pulp fiction like style to it.
Over communications, Max reports, "we're just thirty two minutes away."
Over in the Eyes Only Rec room back in Seattle… Logan nods, "good. If anyone is left standing…they can use all the help they can get." A few tied up bodies of military officers are seen past his computer terminal. But, with good working officers standing over them: Ready with guns if they try anything.
Max thinks back to a recent blood injection from Syl: With Syl's own blood. Before they took off for California. Her arm is still kind of sore from the tubes.
Max adds solemnly, "don't have to tell me twice. I get it. What about the files?" Logan assures her, "don't worry about it: It's being taken care of."
Syl checks, "and what about Sketchy?"
Logan explains simply, "he's been asking for you. But, he's going to be ok. He's exhausted. But, he's hiding pretty good: Not too far off from the site."
Syl slightly chuckles, "sure sounds like him, all right. Can I talk to him?"
Logan points out simply, "hmm. I don't know. Maybe you should save it for when you're not about to go into a highly time sensitive mission."
Syl thinks openly, "fair point. How about you just let Sketch know that I am "catching up" with a few old rivals from school, and that I'll be back late after beating some lessons into them?" Max gets a hard chuckle out of that one.
Logan figures, "now that I can do. I'll be sure to pass it on to him."
A little short on breath, Max slightly smiles. She suggests, "just take the controls for a second, Syl. I need to breathe." She's catching her breath.
Syl is already reaching over to Max's side of the controls, keeping the ramjet steady. In response to both of them, Syl adds, "thanks. Already on it."
A little embarrassed, Max reasons, "thanks."
Logan checks, "you ok, Max?" More business like, Max insists, "yeah. I'm ok. I just got a recent blood transfusion. A little short on breath is expected."
Logan reasons, "fair point. Let me guess: You both got parallel processing."
Max remarks, "it's a X-5 family thing. But, you kind of got parallel processing too: More or less. No need to feel bad about it." From the other side of communications, Logan faintly smiles, "I'm not. But, thanks."
Max figures, "just telling you how it is. Has Sydney dug up anything?"
With a printed out autopsy report, Logan reports, "yeah. And…it's kind of spooky." Max checks, "really? How spooky?"
Logan reveals uneasily, "the guy had liquid metal, Max: Fused throughout his entire body somehow. Most anything else was shorted out beyond recognition."
Max mutters under her breath, "damn. Sure not my kind of body shop."
Logan sarcastically says, "you don't say. But…it gets worse."
Max looks to the clouds while steering the ramjet downward. She retorts, "at this point? Doubt it. I've been to the Manticore hellhole and lived to tell about it."
Logan breaks it down, "well… That's because you haven't heard the rest of the story. The same guys who tried to commandeer our home base and kill me over it? They have liquid metal in hot water bottles. Any bullets going in releases the liquid metal over their bulletproof vests. In goes instant armor."
Max thinks back to the dented in kettle: In her fight with Dave.
With a ghostly pale look, Max realizes, "that attack in Utah. It was no coincidence. These cybernetic heavyweights: They wanted me to go out there."
Logan mutters, "my god. You better hurry then. Because if past encounters with them are any indication…they could very well have plans for our mutineers."
Max comments, "doesn't mean I have to like helping them though."
With elbows up, Logan sighs hard, "I know. You and Syl just do what you got to do." Max figures, "good idea. Thanks." Logan adds, "no problem."
Not long after…
Kalins and his most trusted officers are in the Rec room styled control room of the Eyes Only California base: Overlooking the domes through security cams, behind the front of a movie theater restoration project and several others.
Kalins asks one of them, "what about the files?" The second officer deduces, "I'm trying to access them, sir. But, without a password… It could be a while."
Kalins mutters impatiently, "then get Mister Heidal on the phone. Unless you all have a death wish…we should have them before the X-5 comes back!" The second officer nervously says, "understood."
Very seriously, O'Neill inquires, "Kalins…can I talk to you alone?"
Kalins slightly nods, "yeah. Sure. Let's go."
They head back out down the hall, and into the locker room.
When it's just them… O'Neill press, "ok. What were you thinking, man?!"
Kalins comments, "now, what are you getting all upset over? We secured this building!" O'Neill pinpoints, "and killed innocent people while doing it!"
Kalins mutters harshly, "hmm. Ok. Then maybe you should've stayed home with your big pissy wife and left man's work to someone less damn squeamish!"
O'Neill punches him against a locker, knocking him down.
O'Neill shouts, "don't you dare bring my wife into this! Bling and all of them? That's one thing. But, not civilians for god's sake!"
Kalins gets up: Physically rattled, with a bruise on the back of his head.
He just scoffs, "I don't believe this. Any sympathy for the enemy gets you killed: Just like Stryker! You want to end up like him, O'Neill?! Is that what…?"
O'Neill doesn't answer. And before Kalins can put up much of a fight…he shoots Kalins. Kalins falls over dead.
Close to tears, O'Neill reflects, "at least I know who is the worser enemy."
Then…the back door goes flying off the hinges. Syl and Max come in.
With a rifle ready, Syl says, "don't even think about it." O'Neill drops his rifle. He says sadly, "after today… I'm not sure what to think anymore."
Max wonders nervously, "what happened?"
With intense mixed feelings, O'Neill mutters, "Kalins led the mutiny. But…I never wanted them to kill civilians. It's too late for them. But, it wasn't too late to kill him."
Max comments harshly, "and what about Security? What about their lives? You think that makes you any less of a bastard if it went your way?!"
Suddenly… A explosion goes off in the control room. The second officer's hot water bottle explodes with liquid metal around a remote activated bomb. And, the electrical systems start burning up from the burning screaming body.
All the electricity goes out in one fell swoop…along with the lights. One of the officers there calls out, "move!" The two officers left make a run for it.
O'Neill says, "I don't expect forgiveness. I just know the country deserves better." Syl coldly adds, "isn't that the truth. So, what do we do about this guy?"
Max punches O'Neill out. She figures, "come on. We're wasting time."
Max and Syl start charging down the stairs. Syl comments, "you sure showed more forgiveness than I would." Max says, "not forgiveness: The mission is more important now." With a faint chuckle, Syl adds, "my mistake then."
Four officers come charging up.
But, Syl guns them down by aiming for their heads before they can fire.
Syl silently motions to Max. Max nods, and silently motions to her.
Max jumps down to the lower level: Kicking two officers over on the way down, and leaving them open for Syl to shoot them in the head.
She side kicks over the bodies, knocking over several more officers. She runs past…heading after the two soldiers trying to run out a open back door.
Meanwhile… Syl uses her rifle as a club: Taking out two of them before being tackled by three of them. But, she flip kicks one violently into the stairs. And, she slams the two left into each other to stun them.
Max mutters, "just not your lucky day. Is it?" She side kicks one soldier into the concrete wall. And, she snaps the neck of the other on impulse.
Max sighs in cold relief: Thinking it's all over. But…in a single moment… She hears a all too familiar voice. And, it hurts.
A terrified voice calls, "Max?" In no dreadlocks…Herbal was standing there the whole time: Originally hoping just to get back safely to a second ramjet. With the original files copied and deleted, as Logan instructed him to do.
Without another word…Herbal runs out the back.
Max doesn't even say anything: She just bends over…and cries and cries.
For as much as she wants it to be all right… For as much as Eyes Only has helped save lives… Max knows all too well that this is far from over.