23 Hours Ago
When Alec led Max onto the plane with barely a whisper of his hand on the small of her back, each transgenic hoping for some alone time with the other, they were instead disappointed to see a team of six people there to prep the brunette beauty for this mission. She didn't need much by way of makeup or wardrobe. Her barcode was masked (as was his) and her hair double-dutch-braided, while she acquainted herself with her cover alias, Christina Ferreira, pieced together her body language and speech patterns, and memorized numerous combinations of maneuvers Alec crafted for her use during the fight.
Besides the Manticore team and the flight personnel, Alec was surprised to reunite with his longtime friend Biggs, who'd just come off an extended solo and had jumped at the chance to be involved in Alec's op as Christina's cutman, Luca Esposito.
The Christina Op involved Max fighting in an underground high stakes boxing match. This particular fight rewarded the winner with a whole lot of money, as well as a dozen young women who'd been kidnapped and thrown into a trafficking ring. Lydecker noted that once Max won the fight, they'd collect the women and help them return to their families.
While she mostly stuck to her job, reading about Christina and her coach Hector, she snuck glances at Alec, low-key mourning the loss of her sensual fantasy of spending the 22-hour flight exploring his mind, body and soul. Alec and Biggs spoke animatedly with each other about what all had changed since they'd last seen one another. Biggs had completed a five-year deep cover mission with a forty-year old biotech developer. He said he felt like she'd taken years off his life.
So is he a 'Nova or an IT unit or a friendly, or what?
"But in the bedroom..." Biggs trailed, almost blushing coyly. His dark eyes all but twinkled from afar, and Max guessed he was a Romeo. "Let's just say she reminded me of Lola."
Alec's deep chuckle drifted lightly through the cabin. "Oh, Lola," he lamented. "Wonder if she ever caught that thief."
Biggs clapped his friend on the arm. "Yeah, Brighton? She did, I read about it a year ago in a local paper. Recovered thirty million."
Is Lola an agent? Another part of Alec's past I may never know? Or maybe she's a Fed.
"She got a commendation for it. I ran into her last year at an event," the dark haired soldier divulged. "She looks... the same."
Trying desperately not to watch for Alec's nonverbal reaction, lest it give away more than just a standard handler-asset relationship, Max kept her face pointed at her dossier, but she felt the burn of jealousy warming her veins like electrical current through power lines.
"Did she remember you?" asked Alec, taking a swig from his water bottle.
"Of course." Biggs smiled proudly and followed Alec's line of vision to Max's general direction. He swallowed thickly, then whispered something to his friend that sounded like butterscotch, to which she could peripherally see Alec nod mutely.
Biggs took that in, and inhaled a big breath.
What the hell did 'butterscotch' mean?
She stood up, about to make her way to the restroom when Alec called out to her. She diverted and met him at his seat.
"Max, this is my friend and unit mate Biggs. Biggsy, this is Max." His eyes gave away how awkward it felt introducing her, sounding almost like his friends meeting his girlfriend for the first time. Which was sort of the case.
"Formerly X5-"
"452," Biggs finished, shaking her hand. "I've heard a few stories about you." He smiled politely.
And for the first time, Max was taken aback by the idea anyone would talk about her career who wasn't Lydecker or her friends. Did she have a reputation? Was it a good one? What had he heard?
He must have read her emotions, because he stuttered and started again. "You had the Galecki job, right?"
Max flashed back to that shit show of a human being. How did he know about that? She nodded and tried not to let her disgust for the person and sadness for the situation show.
"I don't know how you refrained from killing that motherfucker." Biggs' shoulders tensed as if bracing for her to answer his statement.
Alec's eyes darted between them, left out of their connection.
"He, uh, had some information on a pedophile ring. Once we got that intel, he was eliminated." She would have done the deed herself, but the director had Freddie, X5-069, do it for her after she confirmed the intel.
"I guess your restraint is probably why they pulled me off the op," he confessed guiltily.
Max's chin twitched up as if to answer Biggs with a 'maybe.' What was she supposed to say? Sorry I was given your job?
"Anyway, it's nice to meet you."
"You, too. Looking forward to working with you." She gave the friends a quick smile. "Excuse me a moment."
"I heard about Rach," she heard Biggs say as soon as she'd turned the corner to the restroom, the tone of his voice softening with sympathy. "I'm sorry."
She could feel Alec's unease before he pushed out, "Yeah, thanks."
Max wondered if most of his friends knew how Rachel felt about him, or how he felt about his former agent. If Biggs was gone for five years, exactly how long did Alec and Rachel work together?
Though, she supposed it was possible for the dark haired 'Nova to furlough for debriefs through the years, so it wasn't necessarily a five-year-plus slow burn that culminated in Rachel's untimely demise.
Still, Max couldn't help but remember Alec's mirthful gaze as he held that placement letter high above his head when they were just teens at the start of their respective careers. Yeah, Alec and Rachel could have been a slow burn, but with how he and Max were going, she didn't think she could make it five years without combusting. Hell, she was having a hard enough time with a single day. Alas, here they were, one day past their confessions, and a full mission to go before they could potentially be alone again.
"You remember that asshole in Italy, Marcello? We nailed him." Her handler's expert changing of the the subject didn't surprise her. She got the distinct impression he barely opened up to anyone about Rachel. Plus, there was a reason he had such a great reputation and high ranking.
"Good. I didn't like how he looked at Zarah. She didn't like it either. Hey, how is Zarah?"
"Breaking hearts and minds, as usual," her blond handler answered. Zarah was a Psy-Ops soldier, one who seemed to entrance others with a simple stare of her teal eyes. Max knew from personal experience with the woman, for she, too, had her mind opened up before.
Max found respite in the restroom and stared into her own eyes in the mirror.
At least Alec had someone like Biggs in his life coming up the ranks. Probably made growing up Manticore just a little easier. She'd had her unit, including Tinga, her slightly older unit mate who'd excelled in aquatics, genetics, and coding. Max had about thirty minutes to reminisce and debrief with Tinga before they parted ways again.
Tinga had pulled Max aside right away and asked, "What's going on with your handler?"
In a panic that they'd been caught before anything even began, Max had frozen, dumbstruck.
Tinga laughed. "You should see the look on your face, little sis," she teased. "Like you just saw the Director in flagrante. I'm just fucking with you. Had to ask, I mean, look at him." Tinga and Max both glanced over to the commanding officer.
Now
Max's head snapped back as the other boxer's gloved fist connected with her left eye. She grunted from the pain, realizing the woman's gloves were enhanced - likely injected with something heavy. Liquid mercury? She righted her stance and raised both fists defensively. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Alec waiting ringside, instructing her in a transgenic whisper, his shoulders tense from watching Erika Novak, Max's opponent in this fight, pummel her repeatedly.
Biggs looked to be studying the other coach's strategy, his dark brows furrowed over just as dark eyes. Novak had somehow gained the upper hand and split open Max's brow, even though Max was genetically engineered and had at least fifteen years of training in various fighting styles.
What the fuck is up with her? It was almost as if Novak could hear Alec's instructions, what with the way the other woman anticipated and blocked Max's moves. But no, that was not possible, unless...
Each woman retreated to her corner, and for Max, that meant sitting between Alec and Biggs, while the latter tended to her injury. She watched as Novak squirmed in her seat like a live wire, unable to focus her attention on her own coach. There was just something about her that didn't add up.
As quietly as she could whisper, Max posited, "it's almost like she's Manticore."
Biggs dabbed at her eyebrow and smeared the anti-inflammatory skin glue over her wound. He shifted his gaze to the other boxer. "No barcode, but yours was masked..."
So hers could have been, too, Max finished mentally.
Alec squirted some water into Max's mouth. "Let's find out," he challenged, using a transgenic whisper. He leaned in toward her ear, saying as quietly as he could, "Do the opposite."
Back in the center, the women began the next round. Alec instructed Max to jab right-left-right, so she jabbed left-right-left. It went on for three more combos before Max got in a left strike that broke open Novak's cheek, and then a single uppercut that sent Novak toward the ropes. The referee called the round and the women went back to their corners.
"Luca, did you see her eyes?" asked Max.
Biggs' head swung in Novak's direction at the same time as Alec's.
"What the fuck? You didn't hit her in the eyes; why do they look like that?" He narrowed questioning eyes toward her opponent. "Hector?"
Alec zeroed in to Novak, picking up how her pupils started to expand and contract. Max was tired, but could persevere. Novak, on the other hand, could get very violent very quickly. "Take the fall, Christina," he said quietly.
Max shook her head, some sweaty strands of hair loosed from the braids sticking to her chin. "I can beat her. I have to." She tried to telepathically message her CO that she needed to win this match and save those women. Not to mention keep her record pristine.
"We will. Trust me," he assured his agent. He had one more trick to play, but it would have to be after the match.
When the next round began, Max danced around on the balls of her feet, preparing for the coded combos Alec was about to give her. But as Novak's combo landed heavily on her cheekbone, Max stumbled backward and the overhead lights made her a little dizzy, and then Alec's voice cut through.
"I've seen it before," he said to Biggs. "They waste all their strength in the last few hours from whatever is coursing through their brain stems, enhancing their senses. Then their eyes get shifty, like they can't concentrate. Then they cry bloody tears. Once they hit that stage, it's only a matter of an hour or two before they die."
"You're saying you think she's one of these 'Reds'?" Biggs asked.
'Reds,' Max repeated mentally. Human subjects administered an implant which essentially upgraded their combat abilities. She wasn't sure if the implant could be removed without severe damage to the host; all the reports and autopsies she'd read were based on Reds who had already died. She hadn't encountered one in person or alive before tonight.
Seemingly super strong. Check.
Possible enhanced hearing. Maybe enhanced other senses. Check.
Shifty eyes, unable to focus. Check.
Novak already showed multiple symptoms.
Peripherally, she could see Biggs trying to get a better look at her opponent without entering the ring.
Bringing her gloves back up in front of her, Max stabilized her feet, fortified her position, and watched Novak. Red tears slipped over her lower lids and she wiped them on her arms. The act smeared crimson paths up the sides of her temples like gory eyeliner.
I can beat her, Max thought, squaring her shoulders and feeling her energy renewed. If Novak was crying bloody tears, then like Alec said, it'd only be an hour or two before she died. If Max focused, she might be able to knock her out and get her some help. Novak wouldn't have asked for this; in her experience, Max hadn't met anyone who did such drastic things without a very good reason. Usually desperation.
It would be risky; there would be no guarantee that the woman wouldn't die if Max wasn't careful, and she wouldn't want that guilt on her conscience. But if the reports and what Alec said were true, then her opponent was already living on borrowed time. She could die at any moment. And even if they removed the implant, there could still be irreversible, irreparable effects.
"Christina," warned Alec, his deep voice finding its way to her ears over the crowd's chatter and roaring shouts.
She shook her head, her long braids swaying at her shoulders like twin live wires.
"Yes," he urged. "Let her go."
She threw a punch at Novak that landed with barely any effect on her as Novak pushed all of her weight into a return hook. Max stumbled backward and landed on her elbow and hip, a little dizzy from the blow. Her previously split brow reopened and leaked blood into the corner of her eye.
"Stay down," Alec guided. "Let her go."
"I can't," she said through the mouth guard. She climbed to her feet and brought her gloves up again.
"Christina, we need to look at your eye," Biggs added.
Shaking her head again, the long-haired Romeo sent a right hook at Novak. "I can help you," she tried to tell Novak through the plastic guard in her mouth.
But the other fighter couldn't or didn't hear, and swung her left fist into Max's jaw, pushing her to the ropes. Max was starting to get fatigued. She took another two shots to the face before Novak growled out a war cry and sent her flying with an uppercut. The overhead lights looked like starbursts in the nighttime sky.
"Are you okay?"
She could feel Alec's presence directly next to her, his fingertips gently prodding at her head.
Which meant... Am I on the ground?
Fuck.