Of Wolves and Devils: A Dark Angel Fanfiction Story
Episode 18:
A few weeks later, down south…
The scrap metal huts are barricaded with more metal. Shotguns and screams pierce the sky.
Smoke is everywhere. Barrels of pesticide and oil are going off like firecrackers.
Meanwhile, many children and animals have been given sleeping injections to ride it all out: Adding more fuel to the convention cults and their cry for revolutions.
Max is in her jet black catsuit: Cellular phone in hand.
She tumbles for a tool shed in the back of one of the metal huts.
She stands there stealthily, as military troops pass by the shed.
With a heavy sigh... She soon calls up Logan.
On the other end, in a long sleeved dark green shirt... Logan questions tensely, "yeah?"
Max mutters, "I'm calling cause I'm this close to kicking these subhuman soldiers off their asses and killing them myself."
Logan tries to puts it delicately, "I know they've done questionable things. I know this is really not easy on you." Max figures, "damn straight it isn't. Knowing what creeps down in sectors down south can do to their kids... Sniffle! All of this turns my stomach."
Logan solemnly adds, "I know. But, remember the goal. We find the informant, we find the key to attacking the Neurom-Cam17 black market at the source. I sent you on this mission because you're the best agent we got. Now...you think you can go on?"
Sounding more assured, Max faintly smiles, "yeah. I think so. Thanks."
Logan comments lightly, "you're welcome."
Max comments lightly, "always nice to know I'm the best kicking ass agent you got. Later."
Logan faintly chuckles as she hangs up.
Max puts away the cellular phone. She fast walks around some rustled bushes.
She comes out to a street.
With her cat like eyes... She sees up ahead a convention cult with solid colored red uniforms and mostly pale and dark brown militia uniforms is coming: With silver combat belts and sashes, black market Neurom-Cam17 military caps covering the sides of their heads, hints of surgical wires under their mostly gray black jackets and torn up jeans, and shotguns remodeled to look like phaser rifles.
State military forces are using ripped away tank fortified police cars as cover. But, the car wrecks are getting weaker with shotgun slugs lodging into them by the minute.
One of them wonders uneasily, "maybe we should fall back? We can't hold this position for...!" The captain mutters back, "no! There's nowhere to go: It's them or us now!"
They're firing back with pitch black jagged edged machine guns.
Sparks fly from their surgical wires as several members of the convention cult are shot dead.
Max jumps over a scorched police car: Using its trail of smoke as cover to slip past the soldiers.
The leader in a solid colored red uniform calls out, "evasive pattern Delta Five! I'm going for the captain." Several members call back, "yes, sir!"
Some convention cult members fall back for some scrap metal huts, shooting as they go. A few soldiers are shot down as they try to shoot them first.
Some split up to come back around.
One gets shot. Another comes from behind a soldier and decks him down.
They toss some grenades at the military: Their cover up in smoke, debris, and sparks of fire.
In the midst of it all, the leader run charges for the captain: Punching him out.
The five soldiers left around him punch him down. He's coughing violently on the ground.
As they go to shoot though... Another convention cult comes for a pass.
They're in black overcoats, with stripper bras bright red to green and greasy white undershirts. Most of them got a rifle for a leg with a metal foot on the barrel end to walk on.
In concert, the second convention cult tumbles at the soldiers and the two convention cult members from the back: Spin firing their rifle legs from the ground and riddling them with bullets while dodging their bullets and bullet shells.
Max runs off the wall of a large metal hut, tumbling back to her feet.
She keeps running: Struggling to focus only on the objective, with all the gunfire and screams constantly reminding her of convention cults and soldiers.
Twenty minutes later...
Max finds a nearly broken off hanging yellow rimmed green sign post that says "Sinner Street".
She pushes aside the pole and several fallen in scorched walls.
Max is about to call Logan again.
She sees a body with dark red liquid. And, no one seems to be coming out of the wreck.
But, with her acute hearing... She hears breathing: In the basement, under all the wreckage.
She pushes away the metal door in the way, propped against the stairway.
Max walks down the gray rug covered stairs.
She knocks on the metal door before her.
From the other side... A woman's voice asks nervously, "cult or friend?"
With a faint impatient roll of her eyes... Max comments, "if you're the informer, you sure have a funny way of showing you're on the level. It's Max."
The door swings open: Unlocked via electrical system and sliding back little metal bars.
She walks into the dimly lit room.
Turning around in her chair is a teary eyed woman named Acantra, with kind of long curly red hair. She has a Neurom-Cam17 military cap around the sides of her head...and dark red cuts down her arms and legs where surgical wires still remain.
The rugged floor has drips all around the chair from the crying she's been doing.
A Borg costume and a episode guide are torn up across the room. But, the pale grayish skin rubber hand gloves are still on her hands. And, the computer screen is lit in a Borg ship like wallpaper.
Max looks wide eyed at her. She goes, "oh god. What the hell did they...?"
Acantra sadly admits, "it wasn't. I... Sniffle! I never should have..."
She shakily looks around.
Max looks around. But, she doesn't hear or see anything around.
All she sees is restlessness in this woman's eyes, and no sign of dehydration or of overdose.
Max solemnly realizes, "so you realized it wasn't at all what you were hoping for. You realized it's playing with your mind. And, you tried to kill yourself over it."
Acantra nods, as some more silent tears fall.
She breaks it down, "one for left hemisphere, one for right. It was...sniffle...to get around turning into a vegetable. What good is it when I see fire ants, my ex-husband with a shotgun shooting me...?!"
Max tries to keep her calm, "it's ok. I don't see him. We're getting out of here."
Acantra shakily faintly smiles.
She then points to the screen. She starts to say, "it's...all there, Max. Found all we..."
Private flight plans, financial transactions with overseas companies, quantities of surgical wires and Neurom-Cam17... Plenty is up there.
Max gets a CD from the outer space themed computer box. The info disappears from the screen.
She solemnly adds, "great. You can tell us more later when..."
Then... She hears faint mechanical whirls from above.
Max calls out, "let's go!"
Max pockets the CD in a case she's just put it in.
She goes to help her out of the chair. But, the woman is groaning violently: Clutching her aching head as the sound of a chainsaw rings in her mind.
The cyborg tears through the ceiling with his kind of wearing out rubber hands.
And, with two rifle legs coming out of the hole... He shoots up the chair and the computer box.
Max tries to swiftly tumble kick away the chair. But, the cyborg is too fast for her.
She finds herself doubling over and coughing violently against the fallen chair. Hints of dark red liquid are down her chest and ankles.
The computer box explodes. A splatter of dark red liquid is briefly seen across the dying screen.
The last thing Max sees in the smoke is the ZFA cyborg going to shoot her.
But, as she falls unconscious... She hears footsteps of someone walking away.
Several hours later, back in Logan's apartment...
Max finds herself on Logan's couch: With several ice packs and herself mostly covered in reddened casts under her catsuit.
She tries to sit up. But, she quickly finds sharp shooting pain.
She kind of nervously lies back down with some violent groans.
Her wounds are healing kind of quick. But, it'll be another hour or so until she can get up.
Logan is sitting there across from her in a pulled up chair.
He says, "hey." She weakly smiles, "hey yourself."
Logan points out grimly, "you know, we almost couldn't get you out. I was worried about you."
He's shaken. But, he's trying to hide it and kind of failing at it.
Almost shakily, Max figures, "yeah. Good thing the ZFA doesn't know how long I can hold out on breathing. For now anyway." Logan adds, "looks like."
Teary eyed, Max reasons, "it's not like I wasn't going to get him to go down hard. Damn ZFA guy was faster."
Logan concludes, "must be Neurom-Cam17 combined with whatever ZFA hardware they got. Even Sebastian knew that would be more trouble than it's worth."
Max figures, "well, it was. What about him?"
Logan reveals, "he was found several miles out. Looks like a case of neural overload."
Max bittersweetly figures, "looks like it was more trouble for both of us. Even the ZFA wouldn't turn themselves into lab rats for that kind of thing."
Logan confirms uncomfortably, "true. But, that's not all we found."
Max assumes, "she's dead."
Logan concludes, "yeah. And, that's not even the worse part. The disc was shot up along with your catsuit." Max mutters, "damn."
Logan offers considerately, "yeah. I understand if you'd rather be alone."
Max figures, "thanks. But...stay with me?" Logan just faintly smiles, "ok."
He starts to just sit there.
But... Logan strikes on a thought, "still... If there's anything you can remember..."
Max recalls, "actually...I remember most of the dealio. I caught some when it was still up. She told me some. You know."
Logan highlights, "faint chuckle. Well, now I know. Maybe then it wasn't a complete loss. I can get a pad. And, you can tell me all of what you know."
Max admits, "was kind of hoping you would. But, I also don't want to keep to myself like this."
Logan figures, "sure. I'll be back with a pad. Don't go anywhere." Kind of snarkily, Max comments back, "sure. Like I got much of a choice."
As he goes over to his desk, Logan faintly chuckles back.
As dawn gives way to day...
After going over what Max remembers... It turns out black market Neurom-Cam17s are mostly bought in pairs so as to not completely overwhelm the users. One for the left hemisphere, one for the other. One with flared up imagination, one with a flared up logic center.
It's all probably connected through a network of computer boxes to theoretically balance out the two hemispheres between connected people. But, even that's been with limited success.
Still... Max and Logan have put together a good enough lead to go on to shut it all down.
The Eyes Only private plane is flying down for Australia.
The islands have been covered over in glass habitat domes.
Coastal waters have gotten worse over years of unchecked smog in the sky.
Large rock pools and trampled down ruins of solar panels and houses are plenty along the catacomb like coasts. Sand colored blue ring octopuses and jellyfish have washed up with the high tide.
Over time, whales and sharks have even forced open their own tunnels from one pool to another.
Inland though, there is much more than rock pools to see.
It goes from rings of mucky swampland, deserts with groves of flowery wattles, rainforests with giant trees, and copper lined mine entrances to dirt roads, docks, helicopter and private jet landing pads with vertical wind tunnel styled gold lined metal towers, little apartment like mostly gray and light blue hotels for visitors, stone carved villages of aboriginal tribes. Crocodiles, platypuses, snakes, emu, kookaburras, and red to grey to antilopine kangaroos are scattered from national park to national park.
Weather planes have cleared the skies. But, by the time they reestablished contact with the United Kingdom, not even most Australians thought the coastal beaches were worth saving.
There's labs in blocky painted glass domes, with projects like grown meat and iron ore textiles.
They have flags of Australia, Japan, and the United Kingdom painted across most of them. But, Australia's coat of arms is on every door. So are yellow warning signs in many languages in black of "no unchecked electronics or computers allowed within 50 m", "no unchecked internet use or computer use allowed without security clearance", and "no unchecked suitcases or bags allowed within 50 m".
Even all the dirt roads have warning signs down them, like winding roads to a amusement park that's never going to get made. They go from warning of deadly snakes, mosquitoes, high winds at night, and undetonated missile warheads to "anyone with a EMP weapon will be shot on sight", "anyone with a bazooka will be shot on sight", and "anyone driving a tank on land here is extremely inadvisable, and we're not liable for stupidity: Your own fault if you crash into the ocean, d***head!".
From a window... Max is in her ripped dark blue sleeveless top with the motorcycle light like yellow strips. Somehow, even if her catsuit wasn't all shot up for now, it seemed fitting to her.
And, as she's looking out to it all with her cat like eyes... She's thinking to herself:
Australia.
Faint uneasy chuckle. It was sure to come up sooner or later.
They got lucky with survival. But, even with a lot of guys running on liquid natural gas and nature preserves...it all went down hard from there.
Girls and boys were crashing their parents's parties, hunting down bastards and idiots all over the west and east coasts, and getting high. Can't really say I blame them.
Still...they were all fighting for survival and to chill. Makes sense some things had to go down.
It sure as hell wasn't making it any better for the Australian Greens. Hell, it wasn't until Mother Nature had them on the run that they all stopped fighting to bunker up down under and rebuild.
Now the girls and boys play and shoot hard. Corporate men are corporate men. And, the families up in their gold towers are fighting just to stay together and keep a eye on black market dealios.
With all of this, you know what's really bumming my ass out?
That we're on a mission to take down the Neurom-Cam17 for good, and the best lead we got is some names of guys deep in black market RNA from Dr. Tanaka's recombinant DNA pet project that's ended up all the way here: Right back to corporate men looking for more than just commerce.
Moderate sigh.
I get not all commerce is just commerce. But, what happened to good old commerce: Where no one's depressed, and it's all good?
Faint chuckle. I'm just worrying over one no big dealio.
Least Sydney is up there in Japan with some agents to get ConGen2's backs in all of this.
It doesn't help that I almost got killed. But, that's gotten kind of typical with me and the ZFA.
Every time though, I come back to kick ass. That's sure something good out of it.
Still... It's what I keep telling myself. Someone up there doesn't want me happy.
But, if God is real and I ever meet God... Faint chuckle.
I don't give a damn what Logan thinks. I'm kicking God's monolithic ass for all the crap I've gone through in my life.
God can go back to looking down at the world easy. So, why shouldn't I get him or her some kicking ass "commerce" to keep him or her real?
A few hours later...
Max and Charim are walking down a dark cavern. But, they're not alone.
A Eyes Only agent named Ben Rembern is leading the way. He has jet black streaked dark brown medium hair. He wears a dark yellow biker vest under a grayish brown jacket, has muscular arms, and has a sleekly thin mostly dark gray flashlight out with a silver rim.
The cave openings to more senior run cities have plastic wrap to hold up yellow and orange warning signs with little light yellow LEDs. Gold towers glimmer like trees of gold against the darkness.
But, the more they keep walking on, the more distant the plastic wrap becomes.
Charim is in her light blue overcoat, shivering a little.
Max is in a open mostly black kind of thin coat. But, she isn't shivering.
Soon, glimmers of gold are left behind.
They're passing long red and blue strips of lights.
Crumpled up receipts, black greasy burger wrappers, and dark red liquid stained paper bags are scattered to the cave floor. And, the sounds of cheers, screams, and big guns firing echo over it all.
Charim uncomfortably mutters, "Kuso ̀„ . I haven't seen it yet, and I already hate the place."
With a kind of thick voice, Ben Rembern comments, "be grateful you didn't have to live in one. I did. I only got out a year ago." Charim nervously says, "sorry."
Ben Rembern insists, "it's ok. You didn't know."
A little uneasily, Max figures, "not that I'm not all for seeing through this underground bitch. But, if you hated the Australian underground that much, why didn't you go on the run sooner?"
With a faint amused laugh, Ben Rembern figures, "oh, you'll see: If the smell and the wrappers don't already give it away."
Max, Charim, and Ben Rembern come to Karm-Ice city.
Charim mumbles in Japanese: Suddenly being hit with the stench of many years of human sweat and garbage, and trying to breathe easier under her overcoat.
Drinking, smoking, women with whips and leather bound slaves, men with whips and leather bound slaves, cheaply made iron and gold go carts, silvery blue to iron wheeled gun turrets with driver seats to get around in, netball and Australian football, one room b-movie lots, and bedrooms with black blinds and lots of moaning and groaning of the sexual kind go on for miles and miles. Takeout bags from Burger Fuel to Pie Face are plenty. Rock tunes, electronic, and metal rock thunders under the stalactites. Yet, aside from all the whippings and shooting, everyone seems extremely bizarrely healthy.
Piles of radiated trash are on specially marked construction site like incinerator circles striped red and black. Lockers and red and yellow tiled floors line the light blue barred gladiatorial arenas.
Mostly muscular men and women in dark red and blue stripper outfits decked out in corporate bumper stickers are walking around the rugged pavement. They got light green and blue rifles, and gold portable TV style RNA realigners on their wrists via metal straps with two fold out injector needles.
With a groan, Max mutters, "oh god. When this mission is over, I need a bath."
Ben Rembern faintly remarks, "not why I left. But, I hear that."
Charim weakly figures, "I'd take a rock pool over this. At least the water's better on my biochemicals than this smog." Max faintly chuckles to herself.
Ben Rembern figures, "you're one weird agent." Charim nervously wonders, "you think so?"
Ben Rembern highlights, "it's ok. I've lived with horror stories most of my life: No f***wits f**** me up no more."
With a faint smile, Max adds, "nice. Kind of same here."
Kind of off put and kind of not, Charim adds, "thanks."
Max suddenly realizes something: Most everyone is stopping to look Ben Rembern's way.
Max snarkily asks, "what? They haven't seen girl agents before?"
Ben Rembern explains, "it isn't you. Down here, I had myself a reputation as a gladiator. It's not me no more. But, legends never really die. You know?"
Max faintly nods, "guess so. Well Mister Legend, I'm getting something to eat."
Ben Rembern reasons, "I'll go get some information out of some diehard gladiator fans. See if I can shake something loose. The sooner I'm out, the sooner I sleep more."
Max concludes, "sounds good. You coming, Charim?"
Charim comments, "no. I'm going to go with him. I've had more than enough food poisoning, thank you."
With a faint shrug, Max says, "sure. Just thought I'd offer." Charim adds, "okay."
Charm and Ben Rembern head for the gladiator arenas. Max heads for a Burger Fuel joint.
A hour or so later, further up...
In these youth run cities, there's no real politics: Only gladiators, and matches to settle things.
Ben Rembern has recently found a guy who knows where to find Mother Solidare: The one Eyes Only is looking for. But, he has challenged him to a match. And, he'll only tell him if he wins.
He's a not so well known gladiator named Andy Kam. He has long white hair and red shoulder pads over a very dark blue striper outfit and a matching biker vest.
They're in a arena with dark red liquid tipped yellow spiked dark blue boxing gloves. And, they both have kind of deep cuts down their sides.
Hundreds of young people are gathered around the arenas to watch with not much better to do.
Ben Rembern punches him down in the side, making him cough violently against the bars with dark red liquid starting to drip down his side.
Ben Rembern stands there. He reluctantly points out, "I could save you a lot more pain if you give up. But, I'm just wasting breath on f***ing pity. Aren't I?"
Andy Kam surprisingly high kicks him from the side, smashing him to the floor.
He then grabs him in his dazed state and elbows him violently back down.
Max and Charim in the crowd look nervously out to the fight. The crowd is in a uproar.
With his arms up in the air, Andy Kam shouts, "yeah!"
He calls out, "yeah! I'm going to be the next f***shit burn master! And, I'm going to make that girl with strap-ons there my T&A pleasure doll."
Max glares back at him.
She angrily mutters, "all right: That's it!"
Charim worriedly turns to her, "wait!"
Turning back to her, Max scoffs, "you're really with that son of a bitch?"
Charim sharply figures, "no! Jigoku nashi! But, just walking in there for...!"
She goes to pull her back. But, Max dazes her down.
Max uneasily says, "sorry. I had to do it."
She walks right into the arena, kicking away some bodyguards in red stripper outfits.
Ben Rembern and Andy Kam are both on their feet, both circling around each other and holding onto the bars to come for another pass at the other.
Then though... Max decks Andy: Knocking him out for the count.
Some murmurs, loud boos, and unease come from the crowd.
Ben Rembern starts to point out, "I know he was a waste of good air. But..." Max figures, "yeah. And, you would've been out if it wasn't for me."
More bodyguards come into the arena, along with a judge decked out in dark yellow pads like a football goalie and a set of his own spiked dark blue boxing gloves. The crowd cheers and roars at this.
Ben Rembern hurls a bodyguard at the floor. He punches another against the bars, dazing him.
Max jumps at the judge, catching his head with both legs in mid-air to bang it hard against the bars as she flip lands on her feet. The judge falls over, knocked out easy.
She side kicks the dazed bodyguard into the other two, knocking the second out of the arena and knocking him out against pavement with cuts around the sides of his head.
The cheers and roars get louder. Max faintly smirks back as she stands there.
At a near whisper, Max says, "so...what's the dealio with your male ego?"
A hour or so later, up in a one room judge's office...
Max is sitting on the dark yellow metal desk with her knife. Black blinds are all parted away.
And yet sitting before her...are several pre-teen girls with red to dark blue one piece swimsuits: Most of them with fairly long black hair some deep dark red cuts, one with heavy lashes down her arms and curly medium dark blond hair, and all looking like they were crying their eyes out before they came.
With a light gesture in the air with her knife... Max says, "...and remember: It's better to stab the guy in the ribs than just stabbing him in the arm."
One of the girls with black hair says awkwardly, "umm...what if you want the d***head to die?"
Max faintly smirks, "guess that really is up to you." The girl adds, "thank you."
Max figures, "sure. All right. Class is over. So go. Kick them in their asses."
The girls faintly smirk back before leaving: Each with a sharp piece of a stalactite with them.
Max thinks to herself tiredly, "that was the third class I had. Moderate sigh. You know, this sounded a hell of lot easier in theory. But, so did..."
Now standing behind her... Ben Rembern remarks, "how is your hasty ego?"
Max admits kind of awkwardly, "not so good. If I wasn't coming off as a queen of kicking ass for the girls, I'd kick all these guys's asses for them. Then I'd kick your ass for not telling me sooner."
With a faint smile, Ben Rembern points out, "well, unless you want another match down here..."
Max faintly rolls her eyes, "whatever." She's quick to add, "you're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Deadly certain, Ben Rembern voices, "I don't like too much violence. It's distasteful and a waste. That's why I left. But, you're... Well, you're interesting."
Max sarcastically comments, "yeah. Thanks. How is Charim holding up?"
Further back, near the parted blinds... Charim is sitting on a black wheeled chair. She's finding it hard to look at Max. But, she isn't glaring at her: Just teary eyed.
Ben Rembern figures, "shaken. But, it looks like she knows you fairly well not to take it harder."
With mixed relief, Max figures, "yeah. All my friends know this bitch well. Thanks."
Ben Rembern figures, "that's ok. I was f***ed up a lot growing up."
Sounding kind of amused, Max adds, "also story of my life. How is the signal down here?"
Looking a little confused, Ben Rembern answers, "fair. Why?"
Max lightly brushes it off, "hey. I'm just looking to call a friend in Eyes Only."
Not long after...
Max is standing behind some blinds, talking on her cellular phone.
On the other end, in a reddish orange buttoned sweatshirt over dark green... Original Cindy starts to suggest, "well, I ain't seeing how it's all one big dealio. You just go put the smackdown on..."
Annoyed sounding, Max interjects, "I did. Now I'm their queen bitch, cause it's legal or something just cause I kicked the judge on his ass."
Original Cindy mutters, "damn. Now that is whack."
Max adds, "yeah. Straight up. So, bottom line: How do I beat this bitch?"
Original Cindy answers, "well, Original Cindy's gotta think on it." Kind of impatiently, Max goes, "okay."
After a bit... Original Cindy considers, "you know, maybe you should get a death bed: Yours. Now I know what you're already thinking. But, I don't mean a real one."
Max comments back, "nice idea. Except I'm no one's lady." Original Cindy adds, "still..."
A wide eyed Max goes, "oh god. You think I should?"
Original Cindy figures, "only a little. Although...you do have that mission you're on."
Max reasons, "ok. This better be good."
A little uneasy... Original Cindy considers openly, "well... So long as you haven't told anyone in town about you being a X-5 bred sister... It's not all that complicated to stage it on the real mission."
Max faintly smirks, "sure sounds like one awesome solitary bail out. Thanks."
Smiling back from her end, Original Cindy adds, "not a problem. Who's your girl?"
Max slightly chuckles.
Original Cindy says, "for real. Later, Boo." Max adds, "later."
She hangs up.
Thirty five minutes later...
After going through corporate contacts in Karm-Ice with the threat of challenging their bodyguards to a match if they don't answer truthfully... Max had not only found where their lead is, but when and where the supplies for black market RNA come in.
Apparently, with so many matches among themselves and liking fast food so much, no one in the more youth run cities has thought to threaten any corporate contacts they've met with.
Still... The black market RNA encompasses more than just realigners. Even Logan already knows taking away RNA realigners down here would be a death sentence: Thanks to Ben Rembern's firsthand experience in the Australian underground.
What Max and her team have found is the black market RNA market is worse than Eyes Only thought. RNA is being used to create genetic viruses at a price that overwhelm DNA to the point of causing rapid moving cancer to ship over to Japan, India, South America, and at least several big criminal organizations: Which most every corrupt company in Japan is all too ok with.
In turn, Max goes to see Mother Solidare with just Ben Rembern: Passing themselves off as criminals who just want to make arrangements for "their Big Eye in the sky". And, with all the Australian dollars from the judge's office, that isn't very hard to pull off.
Just before this... In black and white... She thinks over to a recent conversation with Charim.
Max had asked, "you ok?"
Charim faintly sighed, "not by much. I only wanted to protect you. And what do I get? I get punched." Max solemnly said, "sorry."
After some awkward silence... She said kind of blatantly, "I wouldn't have if you hadn't tried to hold me back. You know, impulse and reflex...from a genetically enhanced girl power killing machine."
Charim wiped away some of her faint tears.
She then faintly smiled, "yeah. That helps. Thanks." Max faintly smiled back, "sure."
Presently...
Mother Solidare has a metal chair with a black skull against red, shoulder length dark purple dyed hair, a dark red veil covering her face, and large silvery black headphones with gun barrels in the sides to shoot with. She's also got a judge in her pocket in a town twenty minutes away.
In a shrill tone from a voice sympathizer... She creepily cheerfully tells, "well, f*** me dead! If your boss wants in... Go to Dr. Zor Nukam. He and his staff is just ****ing brilliant at methods of transmogrifying RNA. For months, he's been going for "the next level" in black market RNA."
Max is very shaken by the last part. But, she hides it well.
With a fake smile... She says, "we got to get back to our boss. But, I think we can do business."
Max left the number of the judge on a piece of paper for her before they left. It's not like the number is going to matter tomorrow anyway.
Almost two hours later...
Charim, Max, and Ben Rembern are coming up on a underground lake.
Dome like tan grayish rock walls surround it. A metal platform is in the middle of the darkish water, with a big dark yellow metallic computer terminal at the center with black and red swirled see through glass case compartments for DNA vials inside its sides. A kind of long catwalk goes out to it.
Hints of skulls and bones glimmer in the waters all around the platform. And, giant ripples of blobs keep circling around. Nothing about this looks natural.
Dr. Zor Nukam is sitting in a dark red cushioned metal recliner, laughing to himself like mad. He has messy light brown hair barely over his shoulders. He wears a white lab coat that reeks of muck.
He gloats to himself, "yes. In just a few hours, my RNA fused DNA will be ready to show the wild who's really king: Me! Laugh! And, no one but me will know such majestic monsters can't be controlled until the wankers that bought it are choking on death. And by then, I'll be rich in RNA, fresh water to wash in, and more than enough henchmen to circle my throne! Laugh!"
With some amusement, Max remarks, "well... Aside from a scientist whack sounding all drunk on his ass... That's some refresh. Thanks for making things all the easier for us to kick your ass."
Charim and Ben Rembern faintly smile.
Dr. Zor Nukam vociferates off, "drunk?! Laugh! What is a king...without his faithful pets?"
Max, Charim, and Ben Rembern are fast walking down the catwalk.
But, suddenly...monster jellyfish start coming around the catwalk.
Their purple pinkish and dark reddish brown tentacles are as thick as stringy whale blubber, giving off electric sparks from their pulsing ghostly gray gelatinous umbrella like bells.
They pull themselves onto the catwalk: Hungry for bodies they're so accustomed to getting. They're holding gallons of water in their mostly closed umbrella like bells like closing in mini-blimps.
Max says, "oh crap." Charim mutters, "Kuso ̀„ . Go!"
With a deep breath... Charim turns into a humanoid gush of water: Knocking back one of the monster jellyfish and sending it back into the depths.
Max and Rembern run charge for the doctor, jumping over some lunging around monster jellyfish tentacles to keep going.
Underwater... The first monster jellyfish lunges its tentacles at Charim.
But, with plenty of water near, she holds on to her watery form: Much to her silent shaken relief.
With a nervous smile, Charim charges for the monster jellyfish.
She hurls it down to the bottom: With watery hands around its umbrella like bell.
The creature lies there, dazed and pulsing electric sparks around itself like mad.
Charim starts swimming up to the platform.
In gurgles... She calls down, "sorry!"
Meanwhile, back around the platform...
Max and Ben Rembern are about to get on the platform...when Max turns around.
She realizes he's crouched on the catwalk: Excruciating pain going down his legs as he violently groans there. All just from a accidental touch with his foot when he jumped over some tentacles.
Max rushes over to him.
Teary eyed, she calls out, "Ben!"
Ben Rembern insists, "violent cough! I'll live. Go!"
Max firmly nods. She gets on to the platform.
Dr. Zor Nukam hurriedly gets out a CD from his computer terminal, putting it in a plastic case.
Contacts, financial transactions with overseas companies, quantities of black market RNA mapped out by types and genetic enhancement compatibility... All the info disappears from the screen.
Ben Rembern is lying on the catwalk with his dark blue rifle out...when he sees the second monster jellyfish lunging its tentacles for Max on the platform.
Even while he's strongly tempted to keep clutching his legs... He determinedly fires.
He shoots several shots into the monster jellyfish...right in the umbrella like bell.
It goes down to the depths, dead in the water with a loud splash.
Dr. Zor Nukam is heading for a dark yellow escape pod styled submarine, carrying a bunch of DNA vials in his arms with the CD kind of sticking out of his lab coat pocket.
Max viciously figures, "I spent hours going after your dealio. You're sure as hell not bailing."
With her crossbow...she swiftly fires a hooked cable into the left on computer's computer screen.
It explodes in a fiery blaze of electric sparks and exploding off vials.
Dr. Zor Nukam is knocked off his feet by the impact alone.
He impulsively drops the DNA vials, which shatter in a bubbly brown trail of liquid.
He shakily grabs for the edge. But, his grip is slipping.
He screams as he starts to fall.
But, in seconds... Max grabs him up by the throat with one hand.
Dr. Zok Nukam just looks stunned.
With pity in her voice... She mutters, "yeah. I just kept you from winding up dead. But, it's only because you're too much of a idiot to be worth killing over."
Max hurls his body against the platform.
He's coughing violently over himself in a dizzy state when she knocks him out.
With a faint smirk, Max takes the CD from him. She pockets it.
Charim then comes back up.
She's reconstituting herself against the side of the platform as she's breathing hard.
Between breaths... She wonders kind of shakily, "so...did we...do it?"
Max mostly assures, "oh yeah. We finished the mission."
Charim faintly smiles.
She adds, "yeah. Good. Now let's get out of here."
Max figures, "sounds good. Still... Can you give me a hand with getting this mad scientist to a cell? He really smells. And, we still got a soldier down."
Charim awkwardly reasons, "yeah. I can in a minute." Max figures, "ok."
The next day...
From the gold towers of the senior run cities... From the wrecked and still standing cities across the United States... A video bulletin comes across the TV screens.
Australian people in their swimsuit styled light blue to light green clothes and casual business attire stop to look: From the nervous businessmen to the hopeful beat up looking teens in the back alleys. The American people in their Neurom-Cam17s and the nervous military stop to look too, along with the nervous and anxious looking citizens caught in the middle of the battlefields.
Eyes Only announces:
Do not attempt to turn off your set. This is a Video Streaming Video Bulletin. It cannot be traced. It cannot be stopped. And, it is the only free voice left in the world that is about to put to a stop two cancers of crime. Yes. What you are about to see is difficult to watch. But, when you do, you will not let these cases of murder, upheaval, and cold blooded corruption go unpunished. To all the thugs in business suits pulling out cash from RNA where they shouldn't... Authorities have already been shown this evidence and are coming for you as we speak. To the Neurom-Cam 17 users who aren't cold blooded murderers... If you want to save us all a lot of trouble and help turn them in... I'll see what I can do to make your lives a little easier. So, if you want to live with yourselves, now is the time.
Twenty nine Australian businessmen from up in their gold towers are swiftly fired upon by Australian police in dark blue uniforms before they can shoot off their guns.
Their guns are shot away. And soon, they're being taken away in handcuffs.
Some Neurom-Cam17 users go out together to hunt down some killers. Some shoot down each other over bounties and heated arguing that it's not "as it is written".
But, across America and the rest of Australia...the information on Dr. Zor Nukam's CD is out there in spades. And, cheers and tears of joy are heard across every American and Australian street.
The day after, up in Logan's apartment...
Max and Logan are sitting together on the couch: Wine glasses in hand. Max is in her light blue cleavage showing sweater like shirt. Logan is in a dark brown long sleeved shirt.
Logan offers a toast, "to taking down more of the big devils on this broken world."
Max grins. They clink glasses.
They drink some before putting the glasses down on the glass table.
A little uncertain, Max figures, "yeah. That's good. Still..." Logan asks, "what is it?"
Max awkwardly recalls, "well... Remember when I first got to see your lyrical pen scratchings?"
Logan says, "and you tore a page out of it." At the same time, Max says, "I tore a page out of it so I can always look at it."
They both look at each other. They chuckle awkwardly.
Logan admits, "I know. I was kind of hoping you'd tell me someday." Max realizes, "oh."
Logan adds, "yeah. But, that's not the only reason."
With a grin, Max assumes, "I take it you have more?" Logan answers, "yeah."
He gets out from his desk a jet black book.
He hands it to Max.
She opens to the first page as Logan sits back beside her.
As she reads it over... She blushes a little.
With a faint smile, Logan reveals, "that's just the introduction. It's a book of my poems I've been working on for half a year. And, it's all yours."
Still grinning... Max asks, "really?"
Logan mostly assures her, "yeah. I still got a mostly intact one."
Max faintly chuckles. She adds, "then it's awesome."
Their hands touch.
Logan says, "you're welcome." Max says back, "thanks."
On the first page... This is what it says:
Got it coming. Wrestlers without a prayer. Not against the dark. They know the mark.
Only takes a kick from her. No one can take her.
No one's trophy. A fighter with eyes that can chill even winter's chill.
Only the good guys can pass. Only the thugs pass into cells of their own failings.
If you see her...hope that you are not looking to get a kick out of hurting her.
Only takes a kick to get it coming. You would know by the mark.
Got it coming. Wrestlers without a prayer. Not against the dark. Not against the mark.
Only takes a kick from her. Hope that you are good to pass by the dark.