Weather's getting cold this end - and of course, dear Tyler would have to come down with SOMETHING to commemorate the summer's end (like sinusitis...if that's an actual condition:P). Won't bore you with excuses for the delay, but here's another chapter for y'all. Enjoy and review! Oh and by the way, in case you didn't see it on my profile, the 'soundtrack' for my DA fic is up on the blogsite now in an automatic playlist, so you can listen to it while you read if music is your thing (it's so totally mine!). There's a pre-release playlist on the SPN blogsite as well (WHO SAW THE Supernatural SEASON 5 PROMO ON CWTV?! AWESOME!!!) - love and review!
-- Tyler
"Authorities completed evacuation of Sector Seven early yesterday morning after officials confirmed that the fenced-off abandoned industrial zone known as Terminal City is emitting dangerous airborne toxins. Health and Safety officer Kevin Harville, who spearheaded the investigation which took place in the small hours of Tuesday morning, had this comment…"
"Hey, turn it up." Sketch nudged OC, his features as grim as her own while she aimed the remote control at the Jam Pony TV and hiked up the sound on the newscast.
"Our findings confirm reports that the biohazards for which the area has been restricted are no longer quarantined." Kevin Harville was a picture of neutrality as he nodded at the crowd of microphones surrounding him, "It's therefore the decision of the US government to evacuate the sector prior to immediate decontamination."
"Prior to immediate massacre, he means." Even Normal, watching the report at an aloof distance with his arms folded over his chest, seemed unusually irked.
"Have you spoken with the transgenics occupying the site?" A female voice demanded over the pulsing of the camera lights, "How will this affect their current peace dealings with the government?"
"I spoke briefly with X5s 452 and 494…"
"Yeah – great way to kick things off; just call'em by their designations." Normal called once more, only to have Cindy focus her glare at him from over her shoulder.
"Hey Normal, think you could save the commentary for the DVD release? Some of us are tryin' to listen to Mr Health and Safety over here."
"Oh I'm sorry, your majesty, are my attempts at reconciling with the fact that our government is inherently misled cramping your style?" Normal retorted dryly, and Sketchy swiftly squelched the ensuing argument by snatching the remote off of O.C and turning the volume up once more.
"…believe that at this point in time, it's not clear how events will progress. All I can say at the moment is that any hostile measures taken before official declaration of conflict would be from the transgenics, and not the US government."
Static flickered across the screen, followed shortly by the familiar cold-colored template of an Eyes-Only broadcast.
"Is that what you'd have the public believe, Mr Harville? That transgenics will be the ones to make the first move at violence?"
"Oh great," Normal interjected with a sardonic nod at Logan's cropped visage, "Seattle's knight in digital armor's joined the scene. This should be interesting…"
"Y'know what's interesting? The other end o' the room!" OC barked without taking her eyes from the screen as Logan continued.
"Only hours after the sweep performed on Sector seven, Terminal City's central base was flooded with anthrax – the work of a team sent to infiltrate the transgenic's ranks and take out their leaders."
"You know what I'd like to know is where he gets his information." Sketchy shook his head at the TV, "I mean Max wouldn't even let me interview her back in the day. But this Eyes Only guy…"
"Shut up, fool." OC ground out as she stepped heavily on the messenger's toe and jabbed him in the ribs simultaneously.
"The attempt failed, but the signal is clear." Logan's synthesized voice continued, "The government was not to blame for this attack – Ames White and his affiliates in the Conclave, a secret organization devoted to selective breeding in order to create the perfect human being, are behind it. They have been ruthlessly hunting down and slaughtering transgenics since Manticore's demise with one goal in mind: removing the only force standing between them and global domination. Now the question we have to ask ourselves here is…" Grayscale eyes blinked searchingly into millions of viewers' souls nationwide, "Are we going to stand for it?"
Cindy's eyes were narrowed forbiddingly as she and the rest of Jam Pony's team digested the question that held far more weight for them then it did anybody else.
"Dude I know what you're thinking." One of the bike messengers muttered to Sketchy, "And don't even."
"M'not thinkin' anything" Sketch responded innocently, but as he moved to slink away from the crowd, he watched as Cindy joined him.
"Where d'you think you're goin'?" She cast him a sly grin, and the lanky man patted her condescendingly on the arm.
"Got a package for Sector seven, of course, and you?"
Cindy raised an eyebrow and cast a glance over her shoulder at where Normal was bawling out his hapless employees about something along the lines of a clock-in, clock-out system soon to be enforced.
Cindy's eyes were bright with mischievous determination as she nodded a grin at Sketchy, "Let's do it, sugar."
"This is totally ridiculous."
Max stood beside Alec in the elevator, cheap tunes tinkling from speakers in the roof of the box as they whizzed past floor after floor.
"Would you relax? You're gonna give yourself a hernia." Alec was a picture of languid indifference, hands clasped loosely in front of him as he rocked back and forth on his heels, "Me as well if this keeps up."
"I'll give you something else if your dumb-ass commentary keeps up."
"Max, the guy's a weed, okay? I did my research; we got nothin' to worry about." He assured her casually as the elevator chimed and ground to a halt at the 26th floor, "Just follow my lead, alright?"
"I get a choice?" Max queried with acidic cheer in her voice as she stalked after Alec into the plush hallway, and he smiled.
"Someone's cruising for a bruising…ow."
"Taken care of." Max fell into place alongside him, a contented grin on her face as the X5 male rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder.
"You're archaic, you know that?" He grumbled, all gloating and enthusiasm aside now as they reached the penthouse's front door, "I mean who needs fists when they've got words? Oh wait…" Alec's eyes tightened with the plastic grin he flashed at Max, who ensured that the gesture was nullified by focusing her attention on buzzing the doorbell.
"So we just walk right in, huh?"
Max raised an eyebrow at the peephole, "That's the plan."
"That's your plan…" Alec cut himself off mid-lecture to paste his silicon grin back on as the intercom buzzed.
"Who is it?" The voice was female, strong and crisp with Latin flavor. Alec gave Max a look which indicated that he 'had this one'. She rolled her eyes in evident disgust as he leant over her shoulder to speak into the box.
"Fed Ex special delivery for Mr Triken?"
"Be right with you."
"Thank you." Alec forced the words through grit teeth as Max nudged him sharply.
"Triken?"
"Alias."
"Fed Ex?"
"Shut up and put this on." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a pair of excellently-forged identity cards dangling from bright neck-strings and handed one to Max.
"I do not wanna know where you scored this shot of me." She complained under her breath with a grimace, ducking into the fluorescent pink necklace before catching sight of the name, "Are you serious?"
"What can I say? I'm a Friends junkie."
"Consuela Bananahammock?!"
Alec's malevolent glee was ill-timed and earned him another slug to the shoulder and a glare for good measure.
"Ow! Look step into character, would ya?"
"Sure, if you step in front of a truck…"
Both X5s broke out twin smiles of practiced good will as the front door opened abruptly and a tall, svelte young woman eyed them without a hint of suspicion.
"Mr Triken is busy at the moment. I sign for him, yes?"
"Yes." Alec's tone made little attempt to hide the appraising eye he gave the Spanish girl's gazelle-like appearance, and Max forced a smile at the woman.
"Alec?"
"Huh."
"The special delivery?" Max threw a glance his way and Alec quickly snapped into gear (and out of male lion prowl mode).
"Right," He cleared his throat and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket once more, producing a miniscule package highlighted with crisscrossing Fed Ex lines, "Uh here you go, miss…?"
"My friends call me Letizia." The young Spanish woman flashed a brazenly flirtatious smile Alec's way, causing Max to roll her eyes in revulsion the X5's way before she once more stepped into the play.
"Wonderful – if you'll just sign right here…" Alec's plan seemed to have been at least mildly less sloppy then Max's as he procured a crumpled form and pen…with which he fiddled absently.
"God, can never get the caps off these cheap suckers." He muttered, and Max narrowed her eyebrows in a quizzical frown at the normally-adept transgenic's butterfingered attempts.
It was then that she caught it. The signal was brief but enough to beep on Max's radar. Alec's fingers posed haltingly in mid-twist on the cap and Max instinctively knew that was her cue to work magic.
Before Letizia could finish her coy remark about assisting Alec, Max's knees had buckled in a swoon worthy of the black and white screen. Alec's hands were supporting her before she hit the cold, ebony marble floor – lucky for him, or she would've had to hand him his ass for uninsured bruising.
"Oh my god!" Letizia pressed a hand against the flush in her olive cheeks as Alec hoisted a fainting Max into his arms, "Is she alright?"
"Hypoglycemic." Alec stated in a less-then-composed manner as he tossed wild glances around before resting pleading green orbs on the Spanish 'housekeeper', "She needs sugar – you have any in stock?"
"Yes, yes! Come inside, quickly!" Letizia ushered the X5s inside without a second though, panic written across her delicate features, "Should I call doctor?"
"No, no, no, just uh…" Alec wove his way quickly through the plush living room and set Max down on one of the gray, suede sofas, "Could you grab some chocolate or orange juice or somethin'?"
"Yes, fine." Letizia assured him in anguish with a shake of her hand as she backed towards the kitchen before turning and hurrying through a large set of glass doors, "One moment, yes? I be one moment!"
"No problem!" Alec called after the anxious 'housekeeper', feeling a small twang of guilt at her obvious distress.
A very small twang. That was all they had time for.
"Come on." Max was already on her feet and making her way in a low crouch through the living room toward the mahogany door to their right.
Turning the door knob silently, Max stepped inside the bedroom, Alec on her heels. Both X5s paid their luxurious surroundings no heed, instead focusing on the small, lean figure of a man lounging sullenly on the four-poster bed.
"Special delivery." Max broke the ice with Jam Pony-worthy class as the man jumped and twisted to glare at the X5s with bloodshot eyes.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" He demanded, wrapping the white cotton bathrobe hanging off his frame like a sack tighter about him, and Max was stunned at how young and frail and un-Manticore-like Reese Molko appeared.
"Uh the uh…" Alec jabbed a thumb behind him innocently, "Door was open."
Molko scowled, the green of his red-rimmed eyes dull and almost lifeless in comparison to Alec's emerald floodlights…
Max smacked herself internally, Concentrate.
"Yeah well this one wasn't, now beat it." Molko was standing now, knotting the belt of his robe and hiding an inferno of fear under a very thin pane of righteous indignation.
"Sorry to trouble you. We'll just have the package returned to sender then?" Alec queried breezily, already feigning an exit while Max frowned at her colleague's unprofessional behavior.
Molko rolled his eyes and crossed the distance between himself and Max, careful to keep at arm's length as he extended a hand.
"Just…give me my package and get out of here."
"No problem." Max handed over the miniature paperbound article and held out a hand for Alec's crumpled receipt form, "Just need a signature."
Molko had frozen and was gazing at the sender details scrawled on the package as though he'd just been shot. Max narrowed her eyes hesitantly.
"You okay?"
"Name ringing a bell?" Alec's eyebrows rose ostentatiously, and both Molko and Max started slightly as the door slammed shut – courtesy of Alec's boot.
"Molko?"
Molko glanced up sharply at the word, the thin panel cloaking his terror dissolving completely as Alec stepped closer to him.
"Who are you people?" Molko shot a fearful gaze from Max to Alec as he backed slowly away, and Alec smiled tightly.
"We're not people. Well…not human anyway. Your kind saw to that."
"Oh my god…" Molko was sweating anxiously all of a sudden, frail body trembling like a leaf in the wind as he fell back onto his bed and Alec towered over him, "You're…transgenics."
"Give the man a prize." Alec uttered sardonically with an expression for Max that suggested she take before he broke the feeble young man in half.
"Look we're not here to hurt you – we just need some information." Max kept her voice low as Letizia's began to drift questioningly through the house.
"Information on what?" Molko queried, "Manticore? You know more then I do; they kept me in a lab."
"Kinda know the feeling." Max responded sharply as she moved to stand in front of Alec and leant over Molko matter-of-factly, causing the man to shrink further back.
"Look I…I was just a history geek, alright? Languages…stuff like that, that's why they kept me…"
"Right, see I'd love to buy into your lil' sob story?" Max's smile was anything but friendly and worked with the squint of her eyes to truly petrify, "But a little birdie told me you were BFFs with the Conclave for fifteen years so, let's just skip the poor-me's here, alright?"
"Max, we got company." Alec nodded towards a scuffling in the hall outside the door.
"Get rid of her." Max didn't spare a glance behind her as she continued to level a menacing stare at Molko. Alec sighed and beat the scene.
"Wait – Max?" The gangly man pinned her with a disbelieving expression, "Guevara? As in 452 Guevara?"
"As in quit comin' up with questions and start answering mine, fast."
"You haven't even asked me anything!" Molko protested in a tone that was far too strangled to be huffy. Max raised an eyebrow.
"I need you to interpret something for me."
"Hire a translator…hey!" Molko yelped as Max's hands seized the collar of his bathrobe and yanked him halfway off the bed.
"We got as long as it'll take for me to get you to co-operate, now what's it gonna be?" She forced a louder notch into her voice with the latter end of her threat, and Molko cringed.
"Okay! Geesh, not good at takin' suggestions, are ya?"
"Yeah well you suck at laying low; don't give me a beat-down." Max tossed him casually back onto his rear before unzipping the sleeve of her jacket and baring her forearm.
"Woah." Molko whistled and fumbled around on his bedside desk, donning a pair of glasses and taking hold of Max's wrist, "Where'd you get these done?"
"Place called Ink 'n Sink." She responded absently before breaking the heavy pause Molko's confusion had brought on with a glare and a head-cock, "They just showed up a couple months ago. Think Sandemen had them scrawled into my DNA somehow."
"Amazing." The man studied the runes for a full minute in awed silence before Max shattered it unceremoniously by slapping away Molko's fingers as they traced over her skin.
"Look without touching!"
He trained smug green eyes, encased in a ring of grey and red, up at her, "This is the language of our ancestors. Every holy book the Conclave has in stock is written in these symbols."
"Great, so what does it mean?" Max prompted, feeling a cold shiver of doom tremble oddly down her spine at the tragic yet strangely gleeful air that had suddenly come over Molko.
"Well I'd love to translate them for you." His eyes were still locked with hers, voice soft as a peculiar smile played at his lips, "But I think we're about to go our separate ways."
Max's eyes tightened but she didn't waste time, yanking her hand away from Molko and whipping around the face the door just as a body was kicked through and tumbled to the ground amidst large splinters of oak.
Alec stood at the threshold of the door, blood pouring from a cut in his head and trickling strong down the side of his face. "Max, we gotta grab'im and go - now!"
"Come on." Max grabbed Molko by the arms and hauled the passive-aggresively protesting man like a rag doll across the room to an inconspicuous side door.
"Okay fire escape, now!" Alec had somehow scored a handgun (Max didn't want to know exactly how) and had taken up guard duty covering her back as she pulled the door open and yanked Molko down the staircase leading to an emergency exit.
"They'll have the doors covered!"
"I got a game plan!"
Alec's insistence did little to alleviate Max's dread at the sound of a helicopter hovering over the apartment block.
"They're fencing us!" She yelled over the roar of the bird approaching the staircase window as she half-shoved, half-pulled Molko onto the first landing.
"That's Dix, we gotta wing it!" Alec's yell demanded instant compliance as the X5 smashed an elbow through the window pane and kicked in the jagged stalagmites of glass clinging stubbornly to the frame, "Now, Max!"
"Wait no, no, no, no NO!" Molko's shriek of protest drowned in the billowing winter wind as Max promptly caught the line tossed from the chopper parallel the window, knotted it around his waist and shoved him off the ledge.
"They've got him – hurry up!" Alec yelled at the sounds of footsteps clanging up the steps and hostile shouts, "Max, make a jump for it!"
"What about you?" She demanded over the blare of the propeller as Molko was reeled up to safety and hauled into the open helicopter.
"I'm right behind you, just go!" Alec insisted, and as a black-capped head appeared at the foot of the stairwell, Max did just that, pouncing onto the window sill and launching herself at the helicopter a good few meters out. Her hands grasped one of the bird's legs and she pulled herself onto it with a nubile swing. The dusk air was freezing and whipping up a howl at their altitude, and it was only as Max flipped her long, brown hair away from her face that she realized Alec was surrounded by a large contingent of armed forces.
"Alec!" Max yelled, panic written on her features as she watched her friend take the closest few to him down before turning to jump out the window.
Alec's eyes had locked with hers the moment his boots landed on the ledge, and Max knew the angry calm in them was demanding that she get the hell out of there…right before a slew of tasor wires jabbed into Alec's back and he was dragged back through the window.
"Alec!" Max screamed, and above her Dix turned hastily to Tank.
"She'll try to jump it – get us outta here!"
Tanker promptly veered the chopper away from the building and in the direction of a flight path to Seattle.
"Max!" Dix's hand reached out to the X5 on the helicopter's leg, and Max cast one last helpless expression in the direction of the building before allowing the nomalie to haul her inside.