Disclaimer: Dark Angel and its characters do not belong to me, but the plot is mine. This fan-fiction had been written purely for entertainment purposes. No infringement was intended and no profit had been made out of this.

A/N: Loved all your reviews, you wonderful readers out there! Thank you so much! Here's the next instalment - a little longer than usual. Hope you'll enjoy it.

Irresistible Rivals - Chapter 6

(by elle6778)

It had been agreed that for this mission, it was necessary for her to stay away from her own apartment, considering the undercover nature of her work. That way, in the unlikely event that she was exposed, none of the rest would be compromised.

Her new home was a far cry from the comfortable family apartment she shared with Zane and Eva. This one was much sparser, cold almost. There was only one bedroom which led out to an open-plan kitchen and living room. The bathroom, which thankfully came with a bathtub, was tucked in the corner between the kitchen and the bedroom.

The comms device that she had been using to contact the rest at the Unitech HQ was hidden under the sink, disguised as a garbage disposal unit. Zane had figured that it was highly unlikely that someone would go digging there.

The information she had gotten from the hidden room behind the painting included some encrypted correspondences between Davies and an individual. Jack and Mack had spent hours poring over the digital files before they finally cracked the encryption, giving Unitech more information on the mission. It looked as if Davies had been liaising with someone called Ivanov on his project, feeding him information on the design of the energy source for the new weapon.

Several more hours of digging through all sorts of databases and surveillance media had given them Ivanov's regular haunt, a club called the Crossroads. And that had been where Max had started her new job as a waitress three day ago.

At the moment, she was holding up the 'dress' that served as the uniform, studying it with distaste. It could be considered decent if not for the missing three buttons at the top and the skirt so short that she could not even bend down without flashing someone.

Well, it had served it purpose, catching Ivanov's attention on her second day of work. Her feminine instincts had told her that the Russian guy was definitely interested. True enough, yesterday, he had invited her for an after-work drink. Playing hard to get, she had declined. That, she hoped, would intensify his interest in her. She was relieved that at least he was not bad to look at.

Tossing the dress down onto the bed, she walked to the mirror and lifted her hair. The back of her neck was still clear.

Better to make sure, she thought as she reached into the drawer for a bottle half full of tiny capsules and a pressure syringe. The last time she did it was about three weeks ago, so it was a bit early.

Eva and Jack had worked on the formulae for a long time, but the results were definitely worth their efforts. Injected under the skin every month or so, the chemicals in the slow-release capsules changed the pigment of their barcode to match their skin colour. The barcode was still there, but just invisible.

Max slotted the capsule into the syringe and pressed it against the inside of her arm, just above her elbows. With the pinch of a syringe, the capsule was inserted beneath her skin with a soft hiss.

Now that that was done, she had better get ready for work.

Sighing in resignation, she changed into the dress and prepared herself for the fourth night of the mission.

Decked in casual jeans and a dark blue v-necked jumper, 494 stepped out of the luxury penthouse apartment that served as his temporary home, part of the disguise Manticore had set up to complement his background. Anyone who decided to run a check on him would find that he was a rich businessman with a too good to be true squeaky-clean record. Then if they bothered to dig further, they would find clues on questionable dealings which led to nowhere. That should be enough to verify his identity when Mesher checked up on him. And 494 was sure that Mesher had done so.

He lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. The lab at Manticore had temporarily removed his barcode by laser. Although it was no longer there, he could not help but feel exposed. Manticore could have picked a better place to put it, considering their intention to send their soldiers out for everyone to see.

A glance at his watch told him that it was 2035hours, twenty-five minutes before he had to meet Mesher at his office. That was more than sufficient time for him to drive there in his new car.

As he walked to the basement carpark, 494 grinned, recalling the conversation he had with 511. 511 had grumbled extensively about his secondary role in the mission when he had seen the car, a silver 2015 Chevy Corvette Z32 racecar. Sometimes it was nice to work for someone who have unlimited resources, 494 thought as he got into the car. The car purred powerfully when he started the engine.

It took him exactly twenty minutes to reach Mech Designs, arriving five minutes earlier than their designated meeting time. But Mesher was already at the front entrance, waiting for him, when he pulled up. And like 494, Mesher was dressed casually.

"Mr McDowell," he greeted with a nod. His eyes travelled to the car, studying it with undisguised interest. "Nice wheels you've got there. Business must be doing well," he remarked, the envy in his voice unmistakeable.

494 got out of the car, slamming the door shut carelessly behind him. Ignoring Mesher's comment, he went straight to the point. "This seems a little late in the day to carry out a business arrangement. Have you made a decision yet, Mr Mesher?"

Mesher did not reply to his question. Instead, he said, "We'll be meeting a close acquaintance of mine. I think you might be interested to hear what he has to say."

494 frowned, his eyes expressing his disapproval. "I though we agreed that this project would remain confidential," he said in a dangerous voice.

Mesher hurried to say, "Yes, yes, I understand. This man is trustworthy, I give you my word."

494 regarded Mesher distrustfully, intentionally making him feel uncomfortable. And then he said, "We'll see. Well, where's the meet?"

Visibly relaxing, Mesher said, "I'll show you the place."

494 nodded and got back into his car while Mesher went to his own.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived outside a club. The queue to enter was long, but Mesher just led him to a separate VIP entrance. A brief conference between Mesher and the bouncer later, they were granted access. Nodding to the bouncer, 494 walked through the security scanner, glad that he did not have anything on him that might set it off. The Battle Processors obviously had factored that in when they worked up the mission specs.

Loud music blasted into his face as 494 walked in. Nice, he thought as he surveyed the dimly lighted place with its red walls and its gleaming wood and stainless steel furniture. The place was not as packed as he thought it would be, considering the queue outside. Probably because entry was granted only to certain exclusive guests.

"Follow me," Mesher yelled over the loud din as he gestured to the far end of the room.

494 nodded.

When the table at the far end came into view, 494 caught a glimpse of a flash of wavy dark hair. He tensed. Was it really her this time or his mind was still playing tricks on him? 494 gritted his teeth. He was being overly paranoid. She was not here, and she had not been at Mesher's office either, so he should just stop obsessing. It was getting out of hand.

However, he could not help but search the area again as he got closer, but there was still no sign of her. All 494 could see in front of him was a dark-haired man dressed in white, lounging on the couch as he waited expectantly for Mesher to approach. The man's tanned complexion suggested that he was one of these rich people who could afford to spend the colder months in a tropical country.

"Anthony. Come, come. Sit down. And your friend too," the man said in heavily accented words, not moving an inch from his seat.

Smiling at the man, Mesher gestured to 494. "This is the businessman we spoke about. Alex McDowell." Then he turned to 494. "Mr McDowell, this is Andrei Ivanov."

Ivanov got up and extended a hand. 494 shook it with a nod. "Mr Ivanov."

"Please. Andrei will do," Ivanov said smoothly.

"Alex, then," 494 returned the gesture. His quick assessment of Ivanov told him that this was not a man who could be deceived easily. He had to work harder on this one.

When they have all seated themselves, Ivanov spoke, "So, Anthony told me you're interested in having some work done. Correct?"

494 glanced at Mesher enquiringly, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes. I told Andrei about your requirements," Mesher confirmed, his nervous eyes shifting back and forth between 494 and Ivanov. It was clear that he was only a small fish in this pond, 494 thought.

"I trust that you understand that confidentiality is important to me," he stated, looking pointedly at Ivanov and Mesher.

"Of course. That goes without saying. Now, I'm curious," Ivanov paused as he regarded 494 carefully. Then he continued, "Why do you need such an item, if I may ask?"

494 smirked. "I wasn't aware that I need to explain my reasons. I can afford to pay for it, if it worries you."

Ivanov leaned forwards. "Yes, we know of your resources." Then he leaned back, a smile on his lips. "I'm being ungracious. I forgot to offer you a drink. What would you like?"

"Scotch will do," 494 said. He might as well get a free drink out of this, though he had to keep his eyes open to make sure that Ivanov did not drop something into it.

Ivanov waved to someone behind 494. "Ah, here's our lovely waitress," he said. "Isn't she just charming?"

494 turned to look at the object of Ivanov's attention.

When he caught sight of the waitress, he tensed.

A few feet in front of him, the girl also halted in her tracks. But she recovered admirably fast, he thought as she continued to make her way to their table with a smile on her face, her eyes only on Ivanov. 494 knew that she was avoiding his eyes on purpose.

But his own eyes could not help running over her attire. She was dressed in a tight button down black dress with a low-slung belt. The short dress exposed her long, shapely legs to everyone's view. But it was the top that had him shifting uncomfortably on his seat. The top few buttons were missing, baring her cleavage and announcing to everyone that she was not wearing a bra.

"Andrei, how are you today?" she said sweetly when she got to Ivanov.

"Much better after seeing you, my dear. Have a seat. So how's the boss?" Ivanov asked when she sat down beside him.

Since 494 was sitting directly opposite her, he had no doubt that she would have flashed him if she had not crossed her legs the second she sat down. He was sure that no one else could discern it, but the girl had stiffened imperceptibly when Ivanov's arms went around her. 494 resisted the urge to smirk.

"Oh, he's not mad at me anymore. Thanks for your help," she said, her expression completely sincere. 494 wanted to roll his eyes, but instead, he kept a mildly interested expression fixed on his face.

Shifting slightly, Ivanov leaned closer to 494, raising his voice to be heard over the loud music. "This charming young lady got into trouble with her boss when she accidentally dropped an entire tray of drinks a couple of nights back," he said with a laugh.

"Charming," 494 said with a straight face, fighting his laughter when he saw the warning look the girl had just flashed at him. "Does the lady have a name?" he asked, recalling the last time when he had called her 'lady'.

"Max," she said through her fake smile, her reluctance obvious only to him and no one else.

494 wondered if it was her real name of was it just one she picked for the role she was playing. Whichever it was, it suited her. "Max," he said with a nod, a smile paying at the corner of his lips.

"And this is Alex," Ivanov said.

A confused expression came over her face, bringing her brows together. "Alec? As in smart-aleck?" she asked, looking as if she did not understand.

Ivanov and Mesher laughed, obviously amused by her misunderstanding.

494 gritted his teeth. There was no doubt in his mind that she had done that on purpose. Then he forced a smile out. "For you, sweetheart, you can call me anything you want."

She tilted her head to the side. "Okay… Alec," she said, her eyes flashing mischievously. "Nice to meet you."

Unaware of the undercurrents of the exchange, Ivanov tilted her chin towards him with his finger. "Now, can you get us some drinks? A bottle of scotch for 'Alec' and my special vodka? And a bucket of ice."

"Sure, Andrei," she said amiably, unfolding her legs and stood up. "I'll be back in a minute."

Mesher and Ivanov watched appreciatively as Max walked away. 494 had to admit that he, too, found it hard not to pay attention to the soft sway of her hips encased in the tight dress.

"Now, let's talk business, shall we?" Ivanov asked, his voice bringing Alec's attention back to the table.

"I want to be sure that this remains confidential, Andrei. I want an exclusivity clause on the contract," 494 stated.

Ivanov leaned forward. "My business dealings are always fair. You get what you paid for. If we can't sell the design anywhere else, we need to have a cut of what you earn. After all, it's our design."

"As in Mech Designs'?"

Ivanov shook his head, chuckling. "Mech Designs' resources are limited. We're talking bigger things now."

494 forced down the feeling of anticipation that was beginning to grow in him. He could practically smell how close he was getting. "Who?"

Ivanov's smile did not reach his eyes. He was obviously smarter than 494 had hoped. "You don't need to know for the moment. All you need is your weapon, and we can get it for you. We want a cut on the sales, is that agreed?"

His brow furrowed in thought, Alec did not reply. And then after a few moments, he enquired, "How much?"

Ivanov's eyes gleamed. "Fifty-fifty."

494 snorted. "You're out of your mind," he said derisively. Did Ivanov think that he was a pushover or what?

Right then, Max returned with their drinks, interrupting whatever Ivanov was about to say to his harsh words.

"Here," she said pleasantly, bending down to put the tray containing a bottle of scotch, vodka, a bucket of ice and a few glasses on the table. Straightening, she enquired politely, "Would you like me to pour?"

Ivanov nodded, smiling at her.

494 watched silently as she bent down again, this time to splash the liquor onto the ice-cubes in the glasses. He barely suppressed his smirk when he saw her expression change almost imperceptibly the second Ivanov laid his hands on her ass. Looks like you got in too deep, Max, he thought in amusement.

Finished with the preparation of the drinks, she handed one out to Ivanov first, then to Mesher. Just as 494 thought that she was not going to give him one, she lifted the last glass off the table and walked towards him. Their eyes met, and the twinkle in them made him wary.

"Here you go, Alec," she said sweetly, handing him the glass.

Just a fraction of a second before he got it, the glass fell from her hand, splashing its entire content onto his lap. He jumped up in surprise, glowering at her. Slivers of ice and drops of scotch trickled down from the damp patch on his lap to the floor.

She gasped loudly, and right before his eyes, the satisfied gleam in her eyes turned to a distressed one. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed loudly. Miserably, she went on, "Please, let me help you clean it up, Alec."

"NO!" the vehement refusal came out of 'Alec's mouth before he could stop it. Who knew what she was planning to do next? The bitch, he thought, trying to brush off the slivers of ice from his crotch. This was going to be one heck of an uncomfortable meeting with his wet jeans.

He looked up as Ivanov chuckled. The Russian man then said, "Oh, come on, 'Alec'. It's just a little bit of scotch and ice. Let her help you."

'Alec' tried, and then finally succeeded in wiping the murderous glower off his face. Turning a bland look to her, he said tightly, "Don't worry about it."

Max turned a pleading look to him. "I'm so sorry, Alec. It was an accident. I'm just so clumsy," she carried on dejectedly, wringing her hands.

Damn, she was good, he admitted to himself reluctantly. Too bad all he wanted to do was to wring her neck. Forcing a smile on his face, he said, "Really, it's okay. It'll dry soon enough."

"I'll help you," she offered, holding up a wad of napkin in her hands.

"No, really, I'm fine," he insisted again. There was no way he would let her come anywhere near that part of his anatomy again. Once was painful enough. Who knew what she planned to inflict on him next?

Ivanov let out an exasperated sigh. "Just let her help, will you? She feels guilty enough," he remarked impatiently.

Not wanting to appear too uncooperative, 494 resigned himself to the inevitable. "Alright. Alright. You can clean it up," he said, managing to dampen the reluctance in his voice.

A smile lit up her face as she inched closer to him. As Ivanov and Mesher was sitting behind her, he was the only one who could see the devious gleam in her eyes. All he wanted to do was to back away, as far as he could, but he stayed put. And gritted his teeth in preparation for whatever assault she had in mind.

Ivanov's voice interrupted his thoughts. "We'll be back in ten minutes. I have something to discuss with Anthony in regards to our arrangement," the guy said as he stood up.

494 nodded, his eyes not leaving the girl who have now gone down on her knees in front of him. She dumped a handful of dry napkins on his lap. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the two other men walk away.

Once he was sure that they could not be heard, he grabbed her wrist, stilling the hand that was about to reach towards his lap. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

She grinned and raised her eyebrows. All traces of the meek waitress was gone, and in its place, the girl who had kicked him in his balls resurfaced. Miss Sweetness had just morphed into Miss Infuriating Bitch. "Just doing some cleaning up?" she said, arching a brow.

"You spilled it on purpose," he accused, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"I thought you needed to cool down, that's all. It's quite hot in here," she said brightly as she fanned herself.

He glowered at her. "Cut the crap, Max. Hell, I'm not even sure if 'Max's really your name."

"What makes you think I'll tell you, 'Alec'? Hmm, I like that name. It really suits you," she proclaimed thoughtfully.

'Alec' smirked. "By all means, feel free to call me Alec if you like. It doesn't bother me."

She proceeded to scrub his jeans with the napkins, leaving bits of white fluff on the dark blue material, much to his annoyance. "Alex's not your name, is it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you take me for?" he retorted. What did she expect? Introduce himself as 494? He looked down to find the small hands on his lap scrubbing vigorously. More bits of white fluff lodged itself on the surface of his jeans, he noted as he gritted his teeth.

Max shrugged, her eyes remaining on his thighs. "Who knows?"

"I take it that you're here for the same reason as I am," he remarked, his eyes travelling from the hand on his jeans to the body it was attached to. As she moved, the black material of her dress gaped, allowing him a better view of the curve of her breasts.

He quickly tore his eyes away, fixing his gaze to the top of her head.

"Oh? Actually, this is my day job. A girl's gotta earn her cash, you know?"

"Right," he replied, barely hearing what she was saying. Any red-blooded man would be hard-pressed to ignore the combination of the tantalising sight in front of him and the movements she was making on his lap. And it had obviously been too long since he last had a sexual encounter, because there was no way he would go for this infuriating female.

The mission, 494. The mission, he reminded himself sternly. "So tell me, what's the deal with Ivanov?"

She gave him a smile which reminded him of a shark. "Now why would I tell you?"

He adopted a wounded look. "Sharing is supposed to be good, don't you know?"

She rolled her eyes. "I've never claimed to be good," she said, slapping a wad of damp napkins on his thighs.

He jumped at the impact. "Hey, watch it! I've got valuables in there!"

She sniggered. "Yeah, right," and immediately proceeded to dig her thumb into the inside of his thighs. Hard.

Jerking up in pain, he hissed, "If you're so desperate to grope someone, you can always ask nicely. It'll scar me for life, but I'll try to accommodate."

She sneered. "Get over yourself. Groping you is very far from my mind."

"That's not what it looks like from here," he pointed out with a smirk.

"I'm just keeping up appearances," she said nonchalantly as she scrubbed even harder, the napkins practically disintegrating under the pressure.

"Your appearance is going to get rearranged in a second if you don't stop right now," he warned.

She batted her eyelashes at him. "What? You're going to risk pissing Ivanov off by bullying his nice sweet waitress?"

"Please. You? Sweet? Don't make me laugh," he scoffed.

She smiled through her teeth at him. "I would love to continue this senseless conversation with you, but Ivanov's heading back this way. So, unless you want to blow both our covers, I suggest you behave yourself."

Before he could reply, Ivanov's voice rang out behind him. "Everything okay?"

Max stood up, smoothing her short skirt down in front of Ivanov's appreciative eyes. "He's as good as new," she beamed.

"Yes, it's dry now," he said, careful to keep his expression neutral as he surveyed the state his jeans were in. Ruined was an understatement, he thought as he flicked off the white fluff his lap with a finger.

He looked up to find her looking at him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

One day.

One day, he would pay her back.

With interest.

t.b.c.

A/N: Yes, the MA action is back and there'll be more in the next chapter. Please review and let me know what you think of it so far. I'd love to hear (read!) your opinions.