Chapter 6
"Whatever doesn't kill you,
Is going to leave a scar."
- Marilyn Manson, Leave a Scar
"Move it, people! Bip, bip, bip!"
Max rolled her eyes at Normal and continued with the same pace as before. She opened her locker and stuffed her belongings inside, and then ambled over to the dispatch station.
"I see you're moving at your usual glacial speed," Normal sneered as he doled out the packages. "Is it impossible for you to walk like a normal human being?"
Max grinned wryly as she imagined blurring around the warehouse for the benefit of her stunned boss. "What can I say? Late night."
He looked down his nose at her, eyes disapproving behind his glasses. "That's not my problem. Get your packages delivered, and then get back here to pick up more. We're short-staffed today and I can't tolerate you wasting time."
Max would normally have rolled her eyes, but his words caused her to pause. "Who's out?" she asked casually, idly flicking through her packages.
"Alec," Normal said. Usually when one of his employees missed work, no matter the reason, Normal had a fit. Now, however, he actually looked concerned. "He didn't call or anything, either. You haven't heard from him, have you?"
She looked up. No one knew about her shared past with Alec, so it was surprising that Normal would think he'd contact her. "No, why would I?"
He considered her for a moment, and then shook his head. "No reason. Now, no more time for chit-chat! Get moving!"
She sneered at him and moved towards her bike, fastening her helmet to her head as she went. It was pretense, of course; her transgenic abilities made the head gear completely unnecessary. As she mounted her bike, O.C. walked up to her.
"I gotta go all the way out to Sector 10," O.C. complained, mirroring Max's earlier actions and swinging her leg over her bike.
Max frowned as she thought of the area; she had been out there just last night. "What's the address?"
O.C. rattled of the street name and numbers, and Max felt her pulse quicken; the delivery went to a house just a few miles down the road from the Dawsons'. While last night had been a waste, Max couldn't help being interested. All of Alec's problems had started at that upper-class party, and she knew one of the guests had something to do with it.
"I'll take it," she volunteered impulsively, snatching the package from O.C.'s hands. Cindy looked grateful but also a little suspicious.
"Why?" She asked, eyes narrowed.
"No reason," Max replied, which was mostly the truth. She had no reason to think making this deliver would help at all. Still, it was worth a shot. Alec was missing work and carelessly putting himself at risk, and she had to figure out a way to break the cycle. Otherwise she wasn't sure what would happen to him.
O.C. looked for a moment like she was going to argue, and then she shook her head. "Fine. Just make sure it gets there and you get a signature, or else Normal will have my ass."
"I know how to do my job," Max said, but a smile lessoned the defensiveness of her words.
"Yeah, when you show up to do it," Cindy shot back, but she returned Max's smile. "I'll see you later, boo."
"Sure," Max said absently, tucking her new package into her backpack.
The house was huge and sprawling, but Max was no longer surprised after spending the last few days looking at such homes. There was a fence surrounding the property, just like the others, and she could only catch a narrow glimpse of the building itself. She looked down at the package, which was small and unremarkable in its brown paper wrapping, then she walked over to the gate and rang the buzzer.
It took a few moments, and she had reached out to ring again when a voice crackled over the intercom. It asked her purpose, and she replied. Then the gate slid open and she was granted entry. She smiled wryly to herself as she thought of who they were letting inside their secluded little castle; a skilled transgenic cat burglar.
Once she reached the front door, she rang the doorbell and waited impatiently. After a few minutes, the huge oak door swung open and a thin, dark-haired woman stood on the other side.
"I got it, Maria," the woman said, facing the other way as she spoke to who Max assumed was the maid. Then she turned around, and Max had to stop herself from flinching—the woman was covered in scars. Half of her face and what little Max could see of her body were badly burned.
"Hi," the woman said, and upon closer inspection Max could see that she was young, probably not much older than Max herself. "Can I help you?"
"I—" Max floundered for a small moment and then pulled herself together. She wouldn't act strangely. She knew what it was like to be considered a freak, and the last thing she wanted to do was make this poor girl feel the same way. "I'm here to deliver a package."
"Sure," the girl said, and when she smiled Max could see that she used to be beautiful. "For my father, Robert Berrisford?"
Max looked down at the name printed on the package. "That's the one," Max said, smiling back at the girl as she looked up.
"I'll go get him. Would you like to come inside while you wait?"
Max was incredibly curious about seeing the inside of the house, so she accepted the offer and stepped through the door. The lavish décor no longer stunned her, although a part of her longed to raid the place. Reformed or not, she had lived most of her life as a criminal, and it was hard to control the impulse sometimes. Old habits died hard, she supposed.
The girl left, presumably to find her father. Max thought it might take a good ten minutes, if the house was as massive as it seemed. Her curious eyes scanned the place, pausing on a beautiful family portrait that hung relatively close to the entrance of the house. She assumed the young girl in the painting was the same one she'd met just a few seconds ago, and the man must have been Robert Berrisford. The other person in the portrait was probably his wife.
The young girl didn't have scars in the portrait, proving that they were fairly new. Max pitied her, unable to imagine how it would feel to have her appearance altered so drastically.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway and Max quickly looked away from the painting, focusing instead on the package in her hands. She would deliver it, and nothing would come of this trip. She had known that would be the case when she had taken the package from O.C., but again Max couldn't help feeling disappointed. She had a sinking suspicion that she would never find out what was bothering Alec. He would either solve it himself, or he would get killed before he had the chance.
That thought filled her with a profound sadness. As illogical as it was, she felt like she was failing again. Alec was slowly dying in front of her, and she couldn't save him, just like she hadn't been able to save Ben.
"Miss?"
Max looked up, startled not only by the sudden voice but by the fact that she recognized it. She stared at the middle-aged man for a brief moment before she realized where she'd seen him: Outside of the Dawsons' place.
"Jam Pony delivery," Max chirped cheerfully, unsure of the situation. Should she acknowledge him, or pretend they had never met? He probably hadn't forgotten her. She had the curse of being memorable. An ordinary person would call her striking quality a gift, but to Max it was only a hindrance. When you spent your entire life running and hiding, being unforgettable was dangerous.
The man stared at her a second too long, something she was also used to, but she didn't know the purpose behind his gaze. Then he took the package and said, "Thank you."
She nodded and held out her clipboard, which he grabbed as well. He turned to his daughter, who stood at his shoulder. "Honey, would you run and get me a pen? I think I left one on the desk in my office."
Max opened her mouth to say she had one, that it was right there on the clipboard, but the girl was already hurrying away.
"What do you think of the painting?" he asked idly, tipping his head not to the family portrait, but to a canvas that must have hung behind her. He undoubtedly wanted to show off his pricey artwork, and Max resignedly turned to look at the image in question. She saw only the door and a section of blank, white wall.
"What—?" She started, but broke off when she felt a sharp, painful prick on her arm.
Max jerked around in surprise, staring at Berrisford with wide, suspicious eyes. He was holding a syringe in his hand, and she realized in a split second what he had done. Shocked and frightened, she instinctively moved towards the door, but the chemically-induced dizziness made her stumble. He reached out and caught her, and she did her best to shake him off.
"If you don't let go of me, I'll...." Max growled, but the threat died on her numbed lips. Her vision was turning black at the edges.
"Is she alright, daddy?" Max heard the alarmed, feminine voice distantly, and struggled for a second to form a reply or cry for help. Those, too, failed to make it past her lips.
"She'll be fine, sweetheart," Max heard Berrisford say as she slipped into unconsciousness. "I'll take care of her."
A/N: So.... there's the twist. Muahahahaha! New update coming tomorrow!