DISCLAIMER: All DARK ANGEL characters belong to James Cameron and Charles Eglee (Cameron Eglee Productions) and DARK ANGEL itself belongs to FOX.
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The following story is based on characters created for the television series DARK ANGEL
(Episode 2)
Combat
By Valjean
This is a stand-alone story in my DARK ALEC series. These stories are my version of Season 4, and incorporate elements not only of the television show DARK ANGEL, but of the novels SKIN GAME and AFTER THE DARK, the book THE EYES ONLY DOSSIER, and information revealed in various cast/writer/producer interviews, chats, and commentaries. The core plot for this particular adventure was inspired by a 1999 LA FEMME NIKITA episode titled "Hand to Hand" that I've adapted as a Max/Alec adventure for the DARK ANGEL universe. -- author's note
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Colonel Donald Lydecker
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Colonel Donald Lydecker, New Manticore's CEO and official government liaison to the Terminal City Transgenics, sat behind his desk with head bowed and fingers steepled. Outside the window of his office, a North Dakota late fall day was fading, the temperature already cold enough to frost the panes. However, a few last rays of bright sunshine illuminated the training grounds and chain link perimeter fence -- almost as if something Divine was deliberately highlighting the secret base's location -- and while he watched, an X7 guard paused on the boundary of the military compound, rifle at ready, silently communicating with his brothers, their hive minds busily chattering about God knew what.
X7s. The colonel didn't like them ... didn't trust them. Compared to the far more human X5s they were an abomination. But the Committee didn't care for the way his kids had grown up, not really. Even though the X5s were a good try at what was to have been the perfect soldier, a unique blend of human and feline DNA, their series had too many physical and psychological flaws. Hence the X6s, 7s, 8s, and 9s ...
The colonel's attention shifted to another soldier in the compound, X5-472 -- Devon -- one of the reconditioned X5Rs who'd been trained as an elite assassin. Now there was a soldier, Lydecker thought proudly as he watched the handsome dark haired young man heading for the barracks. How could his superiors not see the value of the X5 series? Independent minded or not, they were far better than any of the later classes. Then again, they were also the last test tube creations that Sandeman, Manticore's founder, had had a loving hand in.
Bringing his attention back to the problem of the moment, Lydecker looked once more at the report on his desk and frowned. Another soldier had gone missing two days ago, a Lieutenant Norman James, one of the men he'd personally trained to handle the X5s. James was the third special assignment soldier in the past month to apparently vanish without a trace. Which was extremely odd ... The military paid relatively well compared to most employers in this depression era United States. Civilians literally jumped at the chance to be recruited. It didn't make sense that three men would go AWOL from jobs they'd begged for not that long ago.
Lydecker's eyes shifted to another report, the weekly one from Terminal City dated yesterday and delivered by overnight courier this morning. Among the mundane business facts about their Artworks Mall and antique sales that the colonel really had no interest in -- and in fact was rather ashamed of (Oh, the indignity of Manticore soldiers making a living in the arts and crafts trade!) -- one item stood out. Max had made a notation that an X6 and an X5 had mysteriously disappeared from the compound four days ago.
Normally, something like that wouldn't arouse suspicion. Afterall, the Seattle transgenics were free citizens of the United States and could technically come and go as they pleased. However, as he read, Lydecker realized Max was alarmed by the way her people had vanished -- just as he was alarmed by the way his own soldiers had.
Instinct told the colonel there could be a connection -- and he had an idea what it was. However, if he was right, it wasn't a job he could assign to an ordinary military squad, or even black ops.
It was almost dark outside now, and the temperature was still dropping. Shivering slightly in the cold that was creeping into his office, Lydecker reached for the phone. He didn't like it, but he was going to have to call in some of his rogue kids on this one. His own group of X5s were spread too thin as it was, the dozen of them pretty much either scattered over the world or, like Devon, about to ship out on solo missions ... assassinations performed for The Phoenix Group, that arm of the Committee responsible for putting the U.S. back on top in the universe.
Which left only one choice.
"Hello," Lydecker said gruffly into the receiver. "Max? I've got an assignment for you. And it's probably a two-man job so you might as well bring 494 with you."
*****
"Alec, there's a slight problem."
Alec turned around -- he'd been puzzling over a piece of abstract sculpture, a dark green glass number with what looked like sequins outlining a female body part -- and flashed one of his most charming smiles at Joshua's number one fan, Rita D'Angelo, owner and manager of the Nylon Art Gallery.
"A problem?" he said, his golden green eyes narrowing slightly. "Didn't your buyer like that last batch of Joshuas we delivered? What? Too heavy on the palimpsests?"
"Oh my buyer was thrilled," Rita said, her oversized earrings and necklace jangling as she melodramatically gestured in the air with her hands. The gallery owner, as usual, was dressed in a flowing caftan, its loud print pattern competing with the colorful art work adorning the walls around them, and had her dark hair pulled back in an elaborate ponytail -- the combination of styles making the dark skinned woman look like the sophisticated society maven and trend setter that she was. "Make no mistake, Alec," she continued in her well modulated, rich alto voice. "Joshua, dear boy that he is, is the most refreshing genius on the art scene today, and transgenic art in general is still in great demand."
"So what's the problem?" Alec asked, his voice a bit clipped this time. He'd come here expecting to collect several thousand dollars in profit from Rita, money that was sorely needed to keep Terminal City residents in supplies, including food and medicine. Of course he also had plans for his own cut -- new carburetors for motorcycles like his Duke didn't come cheap on the black market.
Rita looked away a moment -- a bad sign. Then she cleared her throat and turned back to him. "I'm afraid our deal with the San Francisco gallery isn't going to happen afterall, Alec."
"Why the hell not?" Alec said. He realized he was sounding indignant, and quickly reined himself in. "I mean, you said our work was perfect for 'em -- that they were always lookin' for new talent to showcase. And they loved Joshua four hundred sixty-three, or whatever the number was of that orange one we couriered up there last week, at great personal expense I might add."
"It was number four hundred sixty-nine," Rita corrected him, "and yes, initially the board of directors did like that piece immensely. But--"
Alec knew what was coming. "But then they found out that the fabulous new artist was a transgenic, and there are some folk on that board who are just a tad bit prejudiced. Right?"
Rita hung her head. "I'm embarrassed, Alec," she said. "Really I am. My compatriots, the artists' community, is supposed to be open-minded about things like this. But unfortunately there are some very powerful people sitting on the San Francisco gallery's board."
"So the big show is a no go?" Alec said.
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Rita D'Angelo |
"I'm afraid so," Rita sighed, the bangles of her earrings jangling again. "Will you break the bad news to Joshua for me?"
"Sure," Alec said, not telling the woman that he'd never informed the big guy in the first place that his work was being considered for a one man show in one of the most famous galleries in the country. He hadn't wanted Joshua to be disappointed if the deal didn't go through, and turns out he was right to be cautious.
Rita handed him the envelope with the money she owed him in it, but grabbed hold of the sleeve of his denim jacket as Alec started to leave. "Alec," she said. "You know I'm not like that, don't you? I think your people are marvelous ... all of them."
"I know, Rita," Alec said, giving her a little smile to show there were no hard feelings. "You've been really good to Joshua and the others ... to me too. We owe you a lot. This isn't your fault."
"Thank you for understanding," she called after him as he left.
*****
However, Max wasn't as inclined to be as forgiving as Alec, and she let him know about it when he met her in TC's control room later that day.
"Do you think she screwed the deal up for Joshua?" was the first question out of Max's mouth when he delivered the bad news. Dressed all in black leather with hands planted on her hips and a pissed off expression on her beautiful pouty face, TC's mayor looked a little too much like a Fury at the moment for Alec's liking.
He tread carefully. "No," the X5 said flatly. "And don't try'n blame Rita. It's not her fault."
"How do you know it isn't?" Max shot back.
Alec exhaled slowly. "Because, believe it or not, Max, there really are some folk out there who genuinely like us. Rita's good people." He held up a hand as he saw the argument brewing in his lady's eyes. "Now, I know you don't like her. But--"
"She just bats those big false eyelashes your way and you roll over, don't ya, lover boy," Max said nastily.
"She's Joshua's friend," Alec said, his voice cooling. "And why are you bein' such a bitch to me about this anyway? I'm just the messenger. I thought we'd moved past this a long time ago, Max -- you blamin' me for everything that goes wrong in your world."
"Rita's your responsibility to handle," Max said. "And the deal's blown. Seems to me you're the only one I can blame."
"Max," Alec said sharply. "Stop it. There'll be plenty of other gallery deals. It's nothin', so quit tryin' to start World War Three with me." And then he remembered something. "Why'd you tell me to meet you here anyway?"
Max looked around the room, making sure they were relatively alone, then she moved closer to Alec and said in a low voice, "Lydecker's got a job for us."
Alec snorted softly. "One that won't end up with me on death row this time?"
"With Lydecker who knows," Max said honestly. "But at least it'll pay the bills since the gallery deal's fallen through."
"What's he want us to do?" Alec asked, refusing to be baited by "Her Bitchiness" any more.
"Don't know," Max admitted, shrugging leather clad shoulders.
"Well, I'd like a few more details before committing to anything."
"He wants us to fly to North Dakota tonight," she said. "He's got a military jet on hold at the airport. That new security system the airlines have implemented makes flying commercial too difficult for us right now." She smiled grimly. "It seems that being a transgenic automatically makes us a risk -- code yellow --and God knows how many times we'd end up being strip searched before clearing the check points."
"Hmm," Alec speculated. "Must be important, for 'Deck to spring for the jet, which means it had better pay real good." Then he eyed Max closely and his voice deepened slightly as he added, "You know, the way you feel about me right now, I'm thinkin' you don't really need me along for this. You can take one of the other X5s as far as I'm concerned -- give us a little vacation from one another so to speak."
"Do you need a vacation from me?" Max asked, her brown eyes holding onto him.
"I don't know," Alec said. He swallowed. "Do I?"
"I don't know either," Max said. "But as far as this mission goes ... I don't need you on it, Alec, I want you on it. You're the only one I really trust to watch my back."
Alec wasn't sure if he'd just been paid a compliment or not. With Max it was kind of hard to tell. He looked at her for a long moment, thinking about how good it felt when they made love ... when they talked in the dark afterwards ... when they were just quietly alone together understanding each other without words because of who and what they both were.
"Do you still wish you were 'ordinary' Max?" he suddenly asked her. "Do you still think that, if you were, it would solve all our problems, like this one with the art gallery?"
"Sometimes," Max admitted, looking at him strangely. "Why?"
Alec shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it over the back of an old kitchen chair that served as a seat at one of the control room stations, and shoved up the sleeves of the sweater he was wearing -- actions designed to give him a chance to think carefully before he answered.
Finally, he cleared his throat and said lightly, "'Just wonderin'." But then he had to add, "Of course, if you were ordinary, Max, you wouldn't have me."
"Wanna bet?" she said with a sly smile. "I know you too well, pretty boy. A hot chick like me? You'd bed me without a second thought if you had the chance, transgenic or not."
"True," Alec said, frowning. "But what I mean is that I wouldn't have ever stayed with you. I've been there, Max." He lowered his voice. "After Rachel, I swore I'd never let myself fall in love with an ordinary again. You know, don't you, that's why I let it go with Asha."
"Leaving her free to go after Logan?" Max said darkly. "Gee thanks. Don't remind me."
Alec looked around the room, making certain no one was close enough to overhear before saying, "You'd really rather I'd hooked up with Asha, gettin' her off of Logan's scent so you and he could have continued bein' lovebirds?" It was a question he'd sometimes asked himself, but even now the X5 wasn't sure he wanted to know Max's answer.
She looked at him a very long time without replying.
"Not exactly," she finally said. And then, leaving him cussedly stuck with that ambiguous reply, Max abruptly changed the subject. "About the mission, Alec. You in or out?"
Alec let out a breath he wasn't even aware he'd been holding. Things had just gotten very dangerous, although he thought he'd handled Max pretty well, safely skirting around that pesky 10 or 15 percent of the lady he just couldn't quite manage ...
"I'll go," he said. "I trust you too, Max. I mean, it's a little late in the game not to, right?" He flashed her a cocky smile, one deliberately meant to charm.
"And I promise to try and stop being such a bitch to you about your business deals," Max returned, relief evident in her eyes. "Now come on, alderman. We've got a plane to catch."
*****
"We think our people are being snatched by members of the Breeding Cult," Colonel Donald Lydecker began without preamble (or even the offer of a cup of coffee) as soon as Max and Alec stepped over the threshold of his office and the door was closed.
"I thought the snake boys were kaput," Alec said, rubbing a sore spot on his left shoulder. The flight had been extra long due to weather problems, and he had a muscle cramp. "I mean, their comet didn't exactly have the result they expected."
"But it did ultimately spread a contamination around the world," Lydecker said. "And people are dying in spite of the vaccine made from Max's blood."
"Maxine," Alec corrected him. "And I'm still pissed you guys wouldn't let us patent the name."
"Shut up," Max said to him.
"I was just sayin' ..." Alec tried.
"The cult is still out in full force," Lydecker continued, ignoring Alec. "There are millions of them, everywhere. An entity like that doesn't just disband or disappear. They still believe that eventually they'll rule the world ... that ordinary humans will die off. The vaccine has put a kink in their plan, but the antidote doesn't work for everyone. The weakest are still succumbing to the biotoxin, depleting human resources all over the globe. It's conceivable that someday ... a few generations from now ... the cultists will indeed be powerful enough to overthrow humanity."
"In other words, they haven't given up," Max said. "But what does this have to do with our missing people?"
"The cult is kidnapping our best soldiers, transgenic and human alike, and using them to train their Phalanx Purebreds," Lydecker said bluntly.
Alec's eyebrows rose. "And we know this how?"
The craggy faced man smiled grimly. "Believe it or not, soldier, I do still have my own sources of intel that don't involve transgenics. We've suspected the cult was up to something for months, and have been keeping tabs on them. We have info on where their primary recruitment post is, but we don't know where the men are taken afterwards. I need someone to infiltrate the cult on two levels -- upper privileged tier as a spectator, and through the training camp. Then, once we're firmly inside, we assassinate the leader of this sordid little operation, rescue our people if possible, and shut it down."
The colonel looked at Max. "You, 452, will be undercover as a wealthy Breeding Cult lady of leisure, one who enjoys watching males fight to the death." He smiled nastily. "Knowing your temperament and viewpoint on men in general Max, I don't think that will be much of a stretch for you. We'll laser off your barcode. Other than that, you'll just have to be careful to not let it slip you're a transgenic."
"Oh yeah, it's always easy to fake not feeling pain," Max said sarcastically, ignoring the jibe about her temperament. "But won't they recognize me?"
Lydecker's smile was sly this time. "Wigs can do wonders, Max. You'll be in disguise. Besides, you're the last person the snake-cult would expect to be walking right into their midst."
"What about him?" Max asked, jerking a thumb at Alec.
"I'm bait," Alec said, grasping the situation quickly. "You figure they'll grab me to use as canon fodder for their Phalanx soldiers. Question though. Will I be posin' as ordinary?"
"No," Lydecker said. "The cult's already taken several transgenics. To them you're premium quality, grade A meat."
Alec didn't like the colonel's choice of words. "Should I be flattered?" he asked dryly.
Max poked him in the ribs with an elbow.
"The primary recruitment center is located in Los Angeles," Lydecker said, showing them a picture of a large building that was obviously some kind of gymnasium. "The men who've disappeared from off this base were talking about it before going AWOL. The cult's lure is quite tempting -- the promise of thousands, if not millions of dollars to be made as personal trainers, martial arts instructors, and professional fighters. Their system's similar to the pre-pulse days in L.A. when sleazy movie directors lured kids with talk of making them a Hollywood star but instead led them into the underground pornography business."
"In other words," Max said, "once the soldiers are 'recruited, they find themselves in an arena fighting for their lives instead of givin' Taekwondo lessons to housewives."
"Exactly," Lydecker said. He regarded Alec closely. "There's a testing you'll have to pass. But that shouldn't be a problem for you, especially since they're anxious to acquire transgenics. Once you qualify, you'll probably be told they're sending you somewhere for further training. We know the Phalanx top tier sparring events are a spectator sport for upper echelon Familiars, but we don't know the location."
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Nathaniel Saul
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He looked to Max. "That's where you'll come in. The director of the entire operation is this man," He tossed another photo out in front of them on his desk, this one of a dark featured, devestatingly handsome man in his mid-thirties with souless eyes and the expression of a natural born killer. "Nathaniel Saul," Lydecker said. "He's the brains behind the brawn, and we're setting you up to eliminate him. As I said, your cover will be as a wealthy Familiar woman who's come to enjoy the gladiator spectacle."
"Wait, wait, wait," Alec said, holding up his hands. "And in the meantime I'm where? In some pit fightin' a Phalanx soldier? No thanks. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. I have zero interest in tanglin' with one of those guys, or gals, one-on-one again."
"Scared?" Max said snidely with a sideways look at her companion. "You handled yourself at the asylum back in December all right. I saw you taking on two Familiars at once and hardly breakin' a sweat."
"Just common sense," Alec shot back. "And those weren't Phalanx last Christmas, just regular run-of-the-mill cultists. Purebreds are a whole other deal, and you know it, Max." He regarded her rather darkly and added in his own defense, "Hey, I like my life. I'm not stupid, I'm not expendable, and I'm not doin' it."
"We don't expect you to," Lydecker said with what almost looked like another smile. "I agree you're not expendable, 494, at least not quite yet."
Alec raised an eyebrow at the "not quite yet."
"All we need is for you to mingle with the other soldiers at the facility and report to us what's happening with the Familiar guards," Lydecker continued. "Keep you head down. When Max takes out Saul, your job is to lead the others in a revolt. You fighting in the pit isn't part of the plan. And by the way--" Lydecker added, "the pay on this mission is a hundred thousand, not to mention the fact it's in the best interest of the transgenics as well as my people."
Somewhat mollified, Alec nodded. He was in.
*****
They would leave in the morning on a private jet to Los Angeles -- Max to infiltrate the Familiar's social upper tier with the credentials and background Manticore was providing; and Alec to present himself at The Iron Man Martial Arts Institute as a wandering transgenic looking for a semi-honest way to get rich quick.
"You know," Max said as she snuggled up against Alec that night, "if the Familiars even suspect who you and I really are, we're gonna be dead."
There were twin beds in the barracks room Lydecker had assigned to them, but neither he nor Max wanted to sleep alone. Sleeping (and waking) in each other's arms had sort of become a habit lately. In fact, they rarely spent a night apart any more -- not unless Max was pissed at him for some reason or had a case of her all-too-frequent insomnia.
The X5 edged back further on his bunk to give his lady more room. Uncomfortably aware of the security camera watching from the corner in the ceiling, both had remained fully clothed, their only bow to comfort being to kick their shoes off.
Alec wriggled toes in his white socks and ruefully looked down at the top of Max's head where she lay warmly against his shoulder. "We'll be fine," he said. "We always are. This kind of shit is what we were created to do, and what I trained for almost all my life."
"Just, be careful," Max admonished him softly as Alec's eyes began to flutter closed. "And don't do anything stupid like you usually do. The last thing I need in my life right now is a dead hero."
Alec nodded sleepily, muttered an unintelligible reply, then drifted off.
And for the rest of the night, unable to sleep, his guardian "dark angel" kept watch over her man.
*****
Alec was bored. He'd been waiting in line for over an hour along with several dozen other Iron Man wannabes. The potential fighters were queued along a winding set of rather dilapidated wooden stairs leading to the martial arts institute's main office where individual interviews were being conducted. The building around them was little more than the shell of a warehouse, hardly the bright and shiny training center depicted in the photograph Alec had seen. But this was where management at the main site had sent him when he'd stopped at the front desk and asked to fill out an application.
Sitting on the step because his his feet hurt from standing, Alec yawned and leaned against the railing, wondering if he was going to be in this friggin' line all night. Idly assessing the men around him -- the competition -- he didn't see much to worry about. Of course he couldn't be positive, but he'd bet his bottom dollar he was the only transgenic here, or at least the only X5. Most of the men looked either too young or too old to be one of his series -- high school dropouts hoping to take a shortcut to a lucrative career, or worn out professional fighters with battle scarred faces seeking a less punishing way of life.
"Guess they're taking their time with each interview," the kid next to him in line said.
Alec glanced up at the boy. He'd noticed him earlier of course -- a typical teenager with straw blond hair, dark blue eyes, freckles, and the demeanor of an adolescent, probably here because he'd won the county wrestling tournament or some such nonsense. The X5 had dismissed the youth from his mind quickly as inconsequential to his mission.
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Jessie
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"My name's Jessie," the youngster said, holding out his hand. "What's yours?"
"Why would it matter to you?" Alec said coldly, ignoring the proffered hand, deliberately discouraging the friendly overture because the last thing he needed was a puppy yapping at his heels right now.
Alec had been aware almost all of his life that a lot of humans (of both sexes) tended to gravitate toward him ... wanted to be around him ... He didn't know exactly why, although he suspected it was a combination of his good looks, outgoing personality, and an inborn "charm" that he secretly thought just might be rooted in an extrasensory ability beyond his control that was a bit like Mia's tele-coercion (whether natural or thrown into his test tube by Manticore something he'd probably never know). Usually this persuasive "gift" was an asset -- a powerful weapon even -- but sometimes, like now, it was also a nuisance.
The boy was looking at him with hurt in his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to intrude."
Polite, Alec thought -- not like most of the hardened, crude fighters who were fidgeting and cussing around them. This kid doesn't belong here.
With a heavy sigh (and knowing he was probably going to regret getting involved) the X5 leaned over and said quietly, "Jessie, do yourself a favor. Go home now. This isn't the kind of job you want."
"Why?" Jessie said, honestly not understanding. "The pay is fantastic if I make the grade. And I think I will." He straightened his shoulders with pride. "I won the middle weight state boxing championship last year."
"Good for you," Alec said sarcastically. "Now go home. Get outta here. Beat it."
The kid's brow furrowed in anger. "You don't have any right to tell me that," he said. "You just don't want the competition."
Alec laughed out loud at that absurd notion and turned away shaking his head. Well, I tried ...
Half an hour later the name "Alec Montgomery" was called, and the X5 stiffly stood up to enter the lion's den.
*****
As he'd suspected, all Alec had to do was show them his barcode (and a little example of "transgenic strength" by pinning the 300 pound martial arts grand master to the wall with one hand) and he was in. With promises of a lucrative contract and riches and women beyond his wildest imaginings, a limousine took him to the airport and a Leer jet.
"I'm on my way," Alec said, pressing lightly with one finger on the micro-transceiver that was in place behind his right ear (a piece of Manticore technology that had Dix and Luke green with envy back at TC).
"Destination?" a technician's voice echoed through his mastoid bone.
Alec glanced out the window as the plane taxied down the runway. "No clue," he replied. Then he settled back in the seat for a nap. "I'll let you know when I get there."
*****
In the meantime, Max was making contact with the Familiar her people believed could get her a ringside seat at the next blood sport event.
"I thoroughly hate them, you know," she said haughtily to the Las Vegas hotel concierge, at the same time patting her short platinum blonde "hair" with a bejeweled hand.
"Hate who?" the weasily looking little man replied, feigning ignorance.
Max looked around, as if afraid they'd be overheard, then in a sotto voce, "Transgenics. They're an abomination and will be the downfall of our kind someday unless they're stopped. Fen nos tol, by the way."
The concierge was nodding in agreement.
"I understand you sometimes have access to them," Max pushed. "Transgenics?"
The small cult member's bristly mustache twitched, as did his beady brown eyes. "Access?"
"To kill," Max said. "You know, for entertainment?"
The man was watching her closely. Max knew her credentials had already been checked out, her background studied before she'd been granted a room in the Las Vegas Comet Club. It was a closed membership here -- snake-cult loonies only. The wig and heavy make-up she was wearing would hopefully keep anyone from recognizing the notorious "Max Guevera" -- otherwise known as "Lady Jesus" -- but she was still nervous. Undercover work might come naturally for Alec, but with her it always seemed like a risky proposition.
"I'm not certain to what you're referring, mam," the concierge said cagily.
"Really?" Max replied, at the same time reaching into her sequined handbag and pulling out a thick sheaf of bills. "Then I guess I'm in the wrong place."
The ratty little man was eying the money.
Max turned as if to leave -- and his hand shot out, clamping with surprising strength around her slender wrist. "Perhaps not," he said softly. "There are tickets available for certain non-publicized events. But they're not held here, in the U.S. You'd have to travel -- on our aircraft of course, but at your own expense."
"Travel where?" Max asked nervously.
"Thailand," the Familiar replied. "And the price is a hundred thousand dollars. But then, of course, you'll be witnessing a spectacle few of our kind are privileged to ever see -- the painful deaths of those mutant animals at the hands of our most elite warriors." He leaned closer. "They say that last week one of our Purebreds literally tore the head off of an X6 series. Blood spurted three tiers into the audience before housekeeping could get the mess in the arena cleaned up. So, if it's transgenic blood you want to taste ..." He let the sentence trail off.
Max forced her lips into a greedy smile even as her stomach heaved, reminding herself she was doing this for her people ... and also for Alec since he was currently one of those "mutant animals about to suffer a painful death" this guy was referring to.
"Make the deal," she said in a non-nonsense tone of voice, handing the concierge the wad of cash. "And get me on the next plane."
"Yes, mam," the Familiar said, his thin lips curving.
*****
Alec didn't know what he'd been expecting -- but it really hadn't been to be met on the tarmac by a contingency of Familiars surrounding him with machine guns. It seemed the cult members knew their enemy well. They weren't taking any chances with a transgenic.
"Strip and put these on," a gruff Familiar soldier said, apparently the man in charge. He tossed military khaki pants (and nothing else) at Alec. They were followed by a pair of leg restraints thrown on the ground at his feet. Lighter weight than traditional chains, the device was a slender steel cable connecting two equally light weight metal bands that encircled the ankles preventing the prisoner from running.
The Thailand air was chill (Alec had recognized Bangkok below as the plane descended through the clouds) and even though his transgenic body heat stood him in good stead, the X5 still shivered as he disrobed and pulled on the pants he'd been given. Then, barefoot and bare chested, he stood facing the sergeant.
"Put 'em on, animal," the Familiar snarled, referring to the leg restraints.
Glancing around, Alec saw that the rest of the dozen men who'd been on the plane with him had been herded into a group about 25 yards away and were being similarly treated, although they didn't seem to warrant the same amount of firepower attention that he did. Jessie was standing on the edge of the crowd, already in restraints and looking like he was going to cry.
For just a second, Alec considered making a break for freedom. He didn't like how this deal was shaking out ... didn't like being shackled and essentially at the mercy of these lunatics. But Max would be counting on him to hold up his end of the assignment.
Reaching down, the X5 reluctantly snapped on the ankle cable. When he straightened, it was to see the burly sergeant holding out what looked like some kind of metal collar.
Alec brought fists up, an instinctive reaction. However, the sound of guns being cocked all around made him pause and stand down. This wasn't the time to fight. As he lowered his hands in surrender, the circular device was snapped around his neck with a decisive click. "Now you're neutered," the Familiar said. He gave the X5 a hard shove in the back. "Get on the truck." (A large vehicle with slatted sides, like the kind used to transport livestock, had pulled up near the plane.)
"Neutered how?" Alec snarled.
And then the X5 was instantly, painfully sorry he'd asked.
The electric charge that surged through the collar was one of the most agonizing things Alec had ever felt in his life. With a hoarse scream, he fell to the ground, clawing at his throat, unable to breathe as muscles involuntarily contracted in his neck and chest and a lightening bolt shot through his head.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the electric current was shut off. Laughing ruthlessly, the sergeant palmed the small control that had activated the disciplinary ring. "Ten seconds of that, mutant scum, and there'd be no bringing you back," he said. "Your heart would stop." The cult member eyed the other bunch of men. "But the boss doesn't want the pick of the litter to be wasted like that," he added. "Time enough to watch you die later freak, and in a lot more entertaining way than by fryin' your pretty little ass on the asphalt."
Getting up off the ground and rubbing his aching throat, Alec tried to still the trembling in his limbs -- an aftermath of the extreme shock he'd just received -- at the same time biting back the cuss words he wanted to spit at the guy. Then, with an evil look at snake-boy, and telling himself this was for Max, the X5 silently fell into line behind the other men being herded onto the waiting truck.
*****
The Far East Ambassador Hotel was one of the plushest, richest establishments Max had ever seen. She was met at the front door by a uniformed valet ready to take her luggage, and by an attendant with a glass of wine on a tray. Graciously accepting the drink, her eyes swept the huge foyer taking in the lush tropical foliage plants, rich gold brocade curtains, thick maroon carpets, and obscenely expensive mahogany furniture that included the massive front desk where she was politely asked to check in. Through a door on the far side of the cathedral ceilinged room she got a glimpse of a tastefully neon-lit bar area with ebony and ivory tables and stools. Rhythmic bass music with an obscure melody echoed faintly through the air, although whether coming from a speaker system or live musicians in the bar Max wasn't sure.
"Your coat, my lady?" the valet said, offering his arm for the garment.
He was a tiny man, Max noticed -- probably not a true Familiar, just a hired lackey. Without looking at him, she let the mink fall from her shoulders trusting the attendant to catch the thing before it hit the floor -- which he did. Time to begin my role of haughty Familiar bitch, she thought.
"May I show you to your room?" the valet asked, bowing at the waist and gesturing with his arm toward an elegant staircase with a carved gold leaf bannister that swept up the center of the hotel like a cresting wave.
Max pinned the little man with her eyes. "I was promised ... companionship," she said.
"Of course, my lady," the valet said with a sly wink. "Although are you certain you wouldn't like to get settled in your room first?"
"No," Max sniffed. "I'm anxious to begin the recreational part of my vacation, and I certainly didn't pay a small fortune to come here and sleep alone."
"Very well, my lady," the valet said. He nodded toward a velvet padded door on the east wall of the room. "I'm sure we can provide something that suits your taste."
Max sniffed again and raised her chin in the air. "Just show me the men."
*****
Alec was somewhat surprised to find himself held in a cell with all the other soldiers. He'd thought that, as a transgenic, he might be accorded special security attention, but apparently his captors figured the collar was sufficient. (In an odd way, he was actually a little bit miffed that they thought him so docile.)
The windowless basement room with cement walls was sparse, containing nothing but a few wooden benches. Those not lucky enough to grab a seat ended up sitting on the floor with their backs to the cold wall. However, at least the leg restraints had been removed so they were all free to move around.
Alec had just deliberately taken up a position sitting on the floor in the corner where he could keep an eye on the entire room when Jessie sat down next to him. The kid looked pale as a ghost.
"What's goin' on?" the boy practically wailed. "What are they gonna do with us?"
"I told you to get while the goin' was good back in Las Vegas," Alec said. He felt sorry for the kid, he really did. But he had problems of his own right now.
"I should have listened to you," Jessie said, obviously chagrined. He looked at Alec with big blue eyes. "Why did they single you out for special treatment anyway?"
"Because I'm a transgenic," Alec said casually.
"A transgenic?" Jessie said, apparently not understanding the implication.
Alec turned his head and pulled aside the long strands of dark blond hair covering his bar code, showing the kid his genetic Manticore brand.
And then light dawned. "Oh," Jessie said, nodding, "One of them mutants from up in Seattle that was on the news so much last year. You're superhuman or something, right?"
"We prefer genetically empowered," Alec said, his voice cool and level as he smoothed his hair back over the DNA tattoo. His lips twitched in a grim smile. "And yeah, you could say we're superhuman ... although most of the world considers us subhuman."
"And these guys want you because ...?" Jessie pushed.
"I'm a good fighter," Alec said with a shrug. "I'll last longer in the ring than any of the rest of you."
"Fighter?" Jessie said. "They're gonna make us fight?"
"To the death," Alec said, deciding there was no use misleading the kid.
"I ... I can't do that," the boy said.
"Sure you can," Alec said with a little smile. "When it comes down to it, you'll fight for your life, same way all of us will." The X5, in spite of himself, was truly beginning to sympathize with the young man. The kid's eyes were filling with tears. "Hey," he said gently. "My name's Alec by the way."
*****
Max strolled through the bullpen, her heavily made-up eyes passionlessly sizing up the males. She'd been told to simply take her pick. There were quite a few very impressive human specimens in the cell, some seated, others standing or sitting with their backs against the wall. All were shirtless, the better to show off their hairy or smooth broad chests and well defined pecs. A number of them were obviously body builders with sculpted torsos and delicious six-packs. Most, but not all, were also passably handsome, the scars on the faces of the battle tested just adding to their testosterone-laden sex appeal.
She studied each stud carefully, eying the beasts from tousled-haired (or in some cases bald) head to naked toes, taking her time. At first, she didn't see him, and Max's heart began to thud a bit faster in her chest. Where's Alec? But then she spotted the young transgenic seated in the far corner of the cell, knees drawn up to his chest, his keen dark eyes riveted on her. Like all of the others in the cage, he was wearing some kind metal collar. He stood when he saw he'd caught her attention -- not too fast ... just casually, gracefully rising to his feet and staying behind the others.
Compared to his fellow fighters in the cell, although undeniably handsome, Alec didn't look all that impressive. There were far more massive types in the room that most females would have jumped at first. Fairly tall, lean and lithe, the X5's bone structure was strong and well defined, but he was still built on the light side, albeit with the beauty of movement that spoke of exquisite genetics and years of physical training.
However, Max knew how deceptive Alec's body was -- how beneath that pretty exterior was the gene-spliced musculature of a cat. At least three times stronger than any of the other men in the chamber, and probably five times faster, her boy could have taken on the whole roomful of fighters and beaten them with one hand tied behind his back if he'd been so inclined.
Damn, she was proud of him ... of her kind.
Still Max, in her pose as a wealthy bored Familiar matriarch, took her time. Then, at last, she pointed a ruby-enameled fingernail at the young fighter standing in the far corner.
"That one," she purred. "The pretty little boy with the green eyes."
The valet blinked in surprise. "But Madam," he sputtered. "Surely you'd rather have a more well endowed specimen attend to your needs. He's hardly more than a teenager, and--" He leaned over and added quietly, as if it was something shameful to be heard, "he's a mutant."
Max clapped her hands with delight. "Excellent!" she exclaimed. "I've always wanted to have one of those transgenics to play with." She gave a knowing look to the valet. "There are stories you know," she said, "about their ... stamina."
The valet looked dismayed. "But he's not tamed," he tried. "He could give you problems."
Max waved her hand dismissively. "I can handle him," she declared. "Just have him accompany me to my room." Then she gave the little man one last stern look. "And see to it that I'm not disturbed tonight."
"Yes, mam," the valet said. He motioned to two of the guards to bring Alec out of the cage. Looking suitably surly, the X5 had to be prodded forward with the threat of a shock wand.
"Behave yourself," the master guard said, a massive soldier who was definitely a Phalanx Purebred.
Alec glared at the guard, then spit on the guy's shoes. The Purebred raised the shock wand -- but Max's hand shot out, clasping the Familiar's wrist firmly. "I don't want him damaged," she said with fire in her eyes. "That could ruin my fun."
However, the valet wasn't so sure about the lady's ability to handle herself against a transgenic. Reaching into his vest pocket, he handed her a small control. "You might need this," he said. "If the animal gives you any trouble at all, just press the red button."
Max raised both eyebrows at the instructions, and eyed Alec (who was beginning to look uncomfortable) with an impish smile on her face.
"What does it do?" she asked. "Rev him up so he can satisfy me all night long?"
"It controls the shock collar around his neck," the burly soldier replied. He grinned at Alec. "This one's already had a taste of it, so I doubt he'll give you any problems."
Max kept the smile on her face as she walked out of the basement room with Alec at her heels -- but the guard's words had brought home to her just how much danger they were both in. Alec had apparently already been painfully disciplined, and she was sorry she'd made a joke about it. Now, they both needed to do their job so they could get the hell out of this place alive.
*****
Her assigned chambers were as rich and exotic as the rest of the hotel with more amenities and luxuries than Max had ever had in her life, including a sunken bathtub that was plenty big for two.
If circumstances had been different, she'd have loved spending the night here with Alec. However, this was a job ... a mission ... not a play date.
Of course Alec saw things a bit differently. Going straight for the honors bar, he dove into the refrigerator and came up with two beers and a handful of expensive chocolate. "I'm starvin'," he said around a mouthful of candy. "They never fed us. How the heck do they expect us to fight on empty stomachs?"
"Shut up," Max said, shaking her head at her partner's apparent lack of concern for their situation. "What have you found out?"
Alec wiped sticky hands on his bare chest, popped open one of the beers, and threw himself down in a chair that seemed to be made entirely of pillows. Propping feet up on an antique coffee table that probably cost more than his motorcycle back home, he beamed up at Max. "Not much," he said honestly. "No one's talkin'. Most of the guys are scared shitless, and the few who tried to fight their way out got taken down by these bad boys." He gingerly fingered the steel ring that still encircled his neck.
"The main event is day after tomorrow," Max said. "There's actually a brochure down at the front desk promising a fight to the death between a Phalanx Purebred and a transgenic."
Alec pointed a thumb at himself. "That'd be me," he said, talking with his mouth full.
"I think so," Max agreed. "Unless they've got another X5 or X6 stashed away somewhere in the basement."
"So," Alec said. "That means we need to move tomorrow night. You hit Simon--"
"Saul," Max corrected him.
"Nathaniel," Alec said with a baiting smile. "And I'll take care of the goons in the cellar."
"That guard's Phalanx too, Alec," Max cautioned him. "And don't forget the collar."
"I know," Alec said, grimacing slightly as he once again worked a finger under the tight metal band. "I'm gonna hafta find a way around that." He tapped the currently deactivated transceiver behind his right ear. "Wonder if Lydecker's people, or Dix maybe, can figure a way to jam the signal to it."
"I'll ask them," Max said. "But I'd still feel better if you had a clear way out of there without having to take on a Purebred."
"Takin' down Saul is only part of the mission, Max," Alec reminded her. "I've got my end to hold up too. Those kids down there don't deserve to die. If we just leave 'em, who knows what'll happen after the boss man goes belly up. The guards might just decide to shoot everyone before lockin' the place up for good -- get rid of the evidence so to speak."
"Did you see any of Lydecker's guys?" Max asked.
"No," Alec said. "Looks like they ended up in the pit or fighting circle or whatever it is before we got here. But there are some pretty young soldiers in the bunch, Max. Like I said, they're scared, and we can't just leave 'em down there."
"Of course we can't," she agreed, still not liking the idea of Alec tackling such a big job all alone. It wasn't that she didn't think he was capable, she tried to tell herself. It was just that the odds seemed awfully long.
Alec took a swig from his beer can and offered her the other. Max shook her head. "No," she said. "I need to stay clear."
"Since when did one beer ever affect a transgenic?" Alec asked wryly. "Are there any chips in that cabinet?" he added, looking hopefully at the honors bar again.
"You and your junk food," Max chided him gently, not feeling the least bit hungry herself. She glanced around the room. They weren't under surveillance. Lydecker's people had checked that out for her via satellite as soon as she'd received a room assignment. She and Alec were alone for the night.
"You know," Max said coyly. "I paid an awful lot of money for that fine ass of yours, and that collar is kind of sexy."
Alec raised an eyebrow. "Figures you'd get all excited about havin' me on a leash." His fingers worked their way beneath the tight metal ring. "Ya know, back home you get it for free whenever and wherever you want."
Max shrugged her shoulders in the sequined dress. "Can't a girl pretend?"
"Pretend what?" Alec asked, shaking his head and not understanding.
"Like a fantasy?" Max teased.
"A fantasy?" Alec echoed her again, one eyebrow arching. And then he got it -- and smirked as he looked up at her from beneath long dark lashes in that deliberately playful, sexy way he had. "You wanna do it with me, don't ya. Here in this fancy room and with you in that fancy dress and all decked out as my favorite flavor -- blonde."
"What do you mean blonde?" Max said in mock anger. "Just for that smart remark I'm gonna teach you how brunettes rule." And then she kicked off her high heels, tossed aside the wig, pulled down her panties, hiked up her skirt, and was on top of him so suddenly that the astonished X5 spilled what was left of his beer.
*****
Alec didn't need to be asked twice -- he rarely did for that kind of thing.
More than willing to oblige, his khakis were quickly on the floor and he was completely at his mistress's "service" -- just like the paid-for stud he was supposed to be.
Over the next hour, the two transgenics made use of the room's plush pillows, carpeting, and eventually the big bathtub, ending the evening's sexual frolic with a long, hot, sudsy bath together.
Max satisfied herself once ... twice ... three times before noticing that he hadn't come with her -- not yet. She took that as a challenge of course, which is how they eventually ended up in the tub with his hands sliding over her soapy breasts and belly while she rode him home, not caring that they were splashing gallons of water all over the turquoise tiled floor, or perhaps disturbing other guests with the noise they were making.
Afterwards, satiated at last, she let him sleep, curling up naked beside him in the circular bed with the mirror hanging overhead, a warm loving kitten purring in her X5 lover's arms.
*****
Alec rarely worried about missions. In his experience it was a totally wasted emotion, and one an X5 soldier learned early in life to suppress. Still, he dreamed that night ... dreamed that he couldn't breath ... while all around a crowd of vicious-faced Familiars screamed and cheered, taking great delight in watching his painful death. And somewhere there was the ominous sound of rushing water ...
*****
He awoke with a startled cry, gasping, shivering, his body covered with sweat.
"What is it?" Max asked in the dark, her voice an anchor.
"Bad dream," Alec said, taking a deep shaking breath and infinitely glad that he could. For a second he thought he'd had a seizure (he sometimes did in his sleep), but one look at Max told him he hadn't. She'd have recognized that problem in him instantly.
"Probably all those chocolate bars," Max chided him gently.
"May be," Alec said with a wan smile. It was almost pitch black in the room, the only light a candle on the table by the door, but his cat eyes could see the expression on Max's face clearly.
She really does love me, he thought with wonder. That's the same look she used to keep only for Logan. Now ... it's for me.
The X5 didn't know why that suddenly seemed so important to him -- the fact that Max not only loved him, but wasn't afraid to show it. But it was.
"I love you," he suddenly said. "I love you so much I don't think I could survive without you." He smiled almost shyly then as he felt her hands caress his naked torso, her fingers trailing lower until she cupped his butt, shrugging out of her robe and drawing his heat closer to her own. "We need to say that to one another more often, Max," he whispered.
"Shhh," Max said, putting a finger to his lips. "I love you too, Alec. And you're gonna hear it from me a million times more because we've got our whole lives together ... long lives." She tenderly kissed his lips. "We'll be fine tomorrow," she promised. "You'll be fine. Just ... don't do something stupid."
*****
They took him away from her shortly after dawn, a contingency of guards coming to the room to escort their transgenic fighter back to his cage.
Max pretended not to care, acted bored even, merely telling the hotel concierge -- another Familar-wannabe from the looks of his puny body and beady-eyed dweezil face that even the gold-braided, red velvet uniform couldn't improve -- that the stud had been "adequate."
She amused herself then by wandering around the hotel for the rest of the morning and afternoon, getting to know the lay of the land and the pattern of the guard shifts. Max had been told her mark, Nathaniel Saul, always oversaw the night's entertainment from his richly appointed private booth above the main arena which was located in a natural cavern beneath the hotel. The plan was to take him out tonight, while everyone was watching the fight. Alec, in the meantime, would be leading the other prisoners in a revolt against their Purebred guard. Hopefully, between a transgenic and two dozen professional fighters (mere human though they were), they could take the guy out.
Seven o'clock came around quickly. Max, dressed once again as the elegant lady, primly took up her place in her own private observation box, shooing away the contingency of waiters who'd followed her with plates of hors douvres and champaign. The arena's natural rock expanse was as impressive as the gorgeous decor and accoutrements the Familiars had bedecked it with. However, in spite of the elegant drapings and richly upholstered stadium seats, there was still a slightly claustrophobic feeling to the space, and a damp sweaty smell that wasn't quite covered up by the wafting odors of perfume and incense.
Saul wasn't in his seat yet, and Max knew she'd have to wait, even though the thought of having to watch men killing each other for blood sport sickened her.
Half an hour passed. Two men had already died, beaten to death by the Phalanx soldier who seemed to be the darling of the crowd, and still Saul was a no-show.
Wondering if something had gone wrong, Max risked contacting base. Activating the transceiver behind her ear, she quietly asked, "Where's my mark? I thought he was supposed to be here."
To her surprise, it was Dix's voice that answered. (Apparently Lydecker's techs were stretched so thin he'd given over the com to Terminal City.)
"Manticore satellite data shows Saul's in his room using his cell phone," Dix said. "There's no way to know how long he'll be, or even if he'll show up at the arena tonight. Apparently he's got some kind of big deal going down."
"Great," Max moaned. Now she'd be stuck here watching Familiars kill humans all evening, and that also meant Alec's part of the plan would be screwed. Touching the transceiver to change channels, she quietly said, "Alec, hold for now. Saul's a no-show. But stand by."
"Roger that, Max," the X5's voice came back to her. "Holding and waiting for signal."
Planting her aching feet on a suede footstool (She'd come to abhor high heels this mission, $400 Gucci's or not), Max settled back to wait. She'd give it another half an hour. Then, she'd have to make some decisions.
*****
Alec had spent the day quietly whipping up support for the revolt he planned to lead later that evening. It wasn't hard to convince the hardened men around him that it shouldn't be too hard taking out one guard -- once that shock device was neutralized.
Then, just like Max, he too settled in to wait, even though Jessie was doing his best to draw transgenic stories out of his new friend. Alec tried to ignore the kid, but had to smile because the boy was acting an awful lot like Normal had around him -- at least until the Jam Pony manager had found out that his Golden Boy was really a mutant. It's so nice to have fans, Alec thought as he drifted off for a nap, tuning out the kid's chatter.
He woke up several hours later hungry and sore, although whether his aches were from last night's activities with Max or the fact he'd been sleeping lying on a cement floor Alec wasn't certain. He was just about to inquire about food, or the lack thereof, when Max's voice chirped in his ear.
"Alec, hold for now. Saul's a no-show. But stand by."
"Roger that, Max," he responded quietly. "Holding and waiting for signal." -- which is when Alec glanced up and saw the Phalanx Purebred guard looking directly at him through the bars.
"Come with me, transie," the large Familiar growled.
"Where?" Alec shot back.
"You're tonight's main course," the guard laughed. He'd brought reinforcements with him -- just what Alec didn't want to see -- two more guards, maybe not Purebreds, but big enough to be a handful.
"Since when?" Alec complained, jerking his arm away from the guard who'd entered the cell. And then suddenly he couldn't see, hear, or breathe as the collar around his neck lit up with high voltage, and even his scream was smothered as he clawed at the agony.
*****
"And now, ladies and gentlemen!" the ringmaster proclaimed, "the main event of the evening!"
Max sat up straighter in her chair. What the hell is this?
Saul was still apparently on the phone and had yet to come down to the arena, and she'd already seen three human fighters brutally slaughtered by Phalanx soldiers -- not her idea of a fun time.
And then she saw him.
*****
Barefoot and bare chested, still clad only in the khakis, Alec shivered slightly in the chill air of the huge underground room. The natural rock ceiling above with its tiny points of quartz glittering in the torchlight felt like it was pressing down on him, the sheer volume of its expanse lending a claustrophobic feeling to the snake-cult's slaughtering chamber in spite of its rich trappings.
The circular pit Alec was standing in ... the arena ... had a metal floor and walls with no way out that he could see. A few moments before, the Breeding Cult guards had escorted him to the edge above, removed the shock collar (to make the event more "sporting"), and pushed him over, a good 15 foot drop. Only 494's catlike reflexes had allowed him to land on his feet, unharmed, and the X5 could all too easily imagine the broken bones suffered by the kidnapped ordinary soldiers who'd preceded him here.
The crowd was growing quiet, the show about to begin. Alec looked up and around at the watchers. Max wasn't hard to spot. A breathtaking beauty even in her everyday black leather, the neon blue sequined dress and diamond jewelry she was wearing tonight turned her into a positive goddess.
"Alec," her voice chirped in his ear. "What's going on?"
"I'm screwed," he replied softly. "They advanced the entertainment schedule and it looks like I'm the party tonight."
"You've got to get out of there!"
"No foolin'," Alec shot back sarcastically as he eyed the high walls of the pit. "Care to tell me how?" He was still partially stunned from the high voltage shock, and focusing was difficult.
"Just ... just hold on," Max said, a note of desperation in her voice. "Saul isn't here yet, but he should be soon. I'll make the hit then help you escape."
"What about the others?" Alec asked.
"We'll worry about them later."
A rather cold response, especially coming from Max, Alec thought -- but it somehow warmed his heart that she was putting his safety first. Not a very soldierly thing to do, and something Lydecker was going to give them hell about if they made it back -- but still oddly comforting. He wasn't used to having anyone worry about him ...
There weren't any preliminary instructions ... no grand announcements or introductions. The crowd knew who their champion was, and who should die.
And it ain't gonna be me, Alec silently vowed as he shook his head to clear the cobwebs and lightly bounced on the balls of his feet.
Then he saw his opponent -- and the X5's breath caught in his throat as he remembered ...
The battle on the upper floor of the Jam Pony Messenger Service wasn't going well. White's Purebred Phalanx soldiers were quite literally kicking transgenic ass. Out of the corner of his eye, Alec saw Max and the flame-haired Familiar bitch throwing down with 452 taking perhaps the worst beating of her life as she barely managed to stay on her feet against the Purebred's onslaught. Mole, too, was in trouble, Alec saw, and Logan was probably already dead. Only Joshua seemed to be holding his own, but still the dog man was knee deep in soldiers and hardly in a position to help anyone else.
Equal in strength and stamina to an X5, and with the ability to ignore pain, the Phalanx Purebreds were indeed a formidable foe for the transgenics, perhaps -- in spite of Max's brave words -- an unbeatable one.
 |
Phalanx Purebred Soldier
|
His left shoulder in agony, and with that arm hanging practically useless, Alec warily circled his opponent -- a Familiar bitch with the stature of a cyborg and the eyes of a banshee. He could see his death in those eyes ... her sole purpose in the universe getting her hands around his transgenic neck and reveling as she wrung the life from his body.
But Alec was rather fond of his fine body, not to mention possessive. Afterall, Manticore for years had tried to pry his pesky independent personality free from the flesh they laid claim to. He'd fought them and won ... and he'd be damned if this bitch was going to take it from him either.
But his shoulder was a hot center of pain, and the blood loss from the through-and-through bullet wound was making his knees tremble ...
They sparred, parried, and then she charged. All Alec could do was hold up an arm to shield himself and strike back with a fisted punch that would have killed an ordinary. The chick took the hit in her face and merely shook it off -- and then she smiled horribly at him and charged again.
Panting, winded, his head beginning to spin and literally fighting for his life, Alec knew he was in trouble. He was aware that the battle was continuing around him -- bodies crashing through windows, furniture splintering, punctuated by grunts and an occasional cry -- but he had no idea if they were winning or losing. Slowly but surely, the Familiar bitch was backing him around the room, making him retreat, wearing him down.
And then suddenly she threw a high crescent kick at his head -- and Alec's reflexes failed him. Lightening and stars erupted and he went down, falling to the floor like an unstrung puppet. Looking up, his eyes wide and helpless, the young X5 could only watch as his opponent raised a mannequin arm high above her head, wielding it like a club, preparing to bash in his skull. Instinctively, he raised his own arm, his wounded one, a futile attempt to block the blow that deep in his heart he had an awful feeling was going to end his life.
Pulling himself back to the present, Alec shook his head, banishing the nightmare memories. Then he took a deep breath, and forced a cocky smile as he faced off once again against her -- the Phalanx soldier from the Jam Pony battle who'd almost killed him nearly two years ago.
*****
Max looked desperately from Saul's empty box seat to Alec down below in the fighting pit. And then her eyes zoomed in on the Familiar who'd just jumped down into the arena -- a female ... one she recognized. Oh God.
"Dix," she spoke into her receiver. "Where's Saul?"
"Still in his room on the phone, Max," the TC mutant replied.
And then suddenly Donald Lydecker's harsh voice cut in on the channel. "Continue waiting 452," he ordered. "This could be our only chance to take out the target."
"I'm just wondering if we shouldn't abort," Max tried. "It's getting late in the evening. He might not show afterall."
"Maintain your position," Lydecker ordered.
"Max," Dix chimed in, apparently sensing something in her voice. "Is Alec fighting?"
"Yes," Max replied tightly.
"Max," Dix said, "You can't interfere. If you do Saul will never show up. If he senses trouble he'll run and we might not find him again for months."
"What if Alec's in trouble?" she tried.
"Then we sacrifice him," Lydecker barked. "He's a soldier right now, 452. And that's all. Soldiers were created to die in battle. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly," Max said, while at the same time feeling sick as she watched her lover and the Familiar bitch squaring off for battle in the ring below. She had a lot of faith in Alec's abilities as a fighter ... really she did ... but still this was Alec, and sometimes the smart-ass got careless.
Sometimes he lost.
*****
Most hand-to-hand fights lasted less than ten seconds. It was a missive that had been drilled into Alec's head ever since he was a child. Another one was to never, ever let yourself get thrown to the ground where you'd be at your enemy's mercy.
Those thoughts trickled strangely through Alec's mind as he lay on his back looking up into a "familiar" pair of maniacal blue-grey eyes. Thinking he'd try and end the battle quickly, the X5 had moved in swiftly as soon as his opponent entered the ring, blurring and attempting to take her out with a killing blow from his fist aimed at the solar plexus. However, much to his dismay, the leather-clad chick had absorbed his punch without flinching, then promptly swept his legs out from under him throwing him to the metal floor. Now, she was straddling him with her hands tightening around his throat.
Ten seconds, Alec chided himself bitterly as the blood to his brain was choked off and his vision began to dim. Ten seconds to live ... ten seconds to die ...
But damn it, he didn't want to die!
Alec had once had an instructor who's speciality was ground fighting. The course had only been six weeks long, but he'd been told at the time that the moves he learned would one day save his life.
One day was here.
The X5 didn't try to break the Phalanx soldier's grip on his neck. Instead he threw his left arm out flat against the floor and moved his body sideways beneath her, getting himself some room. Then he raised himself up on his right hip, literally lifting the chick's weight with the muscles of his lower back and thighs.
Thrown off balance, the bitch tilted sideways, which was all the opening the X5 needed. With a hard shove, Alec heaved the Familiar over, at the same time sweeping her left supporting leg out from under her allowing him to hook his own muscular leg up and around her neck. It was called a "scissors move" in martial arts combat circles, and it worked extremely well when one's opponent thought their victim was helplessly pinned.
Without a qualm of sympathy or conscience, Alec then simply squeezed with his legs -- and was rewarded with the satisfying sound of vertebrae snapping. Her eyes glazing over, the Phalanx soldier went limp between his thighs, her clawing hands dropping from his throat as he rolled over on top of her.
Hardly believing he'd just done what he'd done, that he'd been victorious so quickly, Alec sat astride the body for a very long second, just breathing. And then his eyes sought Max up above.
She wasn't in her box -- which meant Saul had shown up at last and she'd gone after him.
Maybe things would work out afterall.
The crowd was booing, their displeasure building to a roar. Their favorite had just fallen at the hands of a filthy transgenic animal, and they didn't like it one bit. Alec looked to the slightly flustered ringmaster. "I won!" he shouted to be heard above the noise. "I go free!"
"No!" the soldier standing guard above shouted back. "It just means you fight again! And again. And again until you die!"
And then the soldier hurled Jessie over the edge and into the ring.
*****
Max heard the booing from the ring as she crept down the hallway behind the seats toward Jeremiah Saul's box and smiled. The sound meant that Alec was winning. Dix had just informed her the owner of the fighting establishment had finally finished his phone call and should be arriving at the arena soon. In the meantime, she'd take up position and wait.
The cries of displeasure form the crowd were increasing, and she was sorely tempted to contact Alec -- but she didn't want to distract him. Oh well, she thought. One way or another, this should all be over soon, and at least it sounded as if her boy was holding his own.
*****
The onlookers weren't booing because a favorite was losing again.They were jeering the fact that Alec was simply standing with his back against the arena wall, arms crossed in front of his bare chest, adamantly refusing to fight the boy who'd just been thrown into the shark tank.
His ankle badly sprained by the fall into the pit, Jessie was barely able to stand as he looked around with terror-filled blue eyes. The sight of the dead Familiar soldier lying on the metal floor -- not to mention Alec who at the moment looked very much like the animal he part-was -- had him nearly paralyzed with fear. The kid thought he was going to die.
Meanwhile, X5-494 was shaking his head no. He might be many things, but a cold blooded murderer was no longer one of them.
However, Alec couldn't help but wonder why the Phalanx guards above were smiling ... Hurry up, Max, he thought as he saw that both her box and Saul's were still empty. I could use a distraction here. Given half a chance, the X5 honestly thought he could probably leap up and out of the pit, but only if the guards with their machine guns backed off.
Apparently realizing their captive transgenic wasn't going to cooperate, Jessie was pulled out of the arena and Alec breathed a sigh of relief. At least the boy was safe. But no one was offering to take him out of the fighting pit.
Suddenly, there was the sound of machinery from above, and Alec's attention flew to the ceiling where a large circular wrought-iron decoration hung. It was moving, slowly coming down on top of the arena like some kind of lid.
What the fuck ...?
Alec didn't understand, but the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. Looking around the interior of the arena, he saw nothing. He was totally alone. But the crowd obviously knew what was happening -- and they were once more beginning to cheer.
This can't be good ...
"Max," Alec spoke nervously into his transceiver. "Hurry."
And then suddenly there was a new sound as water began pouring into the pit.
*****
Max watched in horrible fascination as the circular metalworks began lowering onto the top of the arena. She didn't understand. She'd seen her lover refuse to fight the boy, murder for sport ... seen the kid pulled to safety ... watched while Alec stood defiantly. Then water began gushing into the arena from pipe openings in the walls, and she understood all too well.
Unable to make the transgenic kill, the bastards were going to drown him, providing the death spectacle the crowd was still slavering to see.
*****
Alec's heroic pose was an admirable facade while it lasted -- but in reality 494 was beginning to panic. The sight of the trap slowly but inexorably closing on him was terrifying, especially when he realized that within less than a minute he was going to be completely boxed in.
There were limits to Alec's cool -- and he'd just reached them.
Blurring, he leaped for the wall, jumping as high as he could, taking his chances with the guards above. However, as Alec grasped the top of the arena's side, he found himself looking straight down the barrel of a machine gun.
Whipping the weapon around, the smiling Familiar smashed the stock down hard on Alec's fingers, and with a cry of pain the X5 fell back into the pit. Landing on his feet with a splash, Alec stumbled in the waist-deep water then whirled and looked around frantically. There were at least half a dozen guns trained on him from above now and the metal lid was less than six feet from the top of the arena.
There was no way out.
*****
"Max, hold your position," Lydecker ordered. "Saul's on his way now."
"They're going to kill him," she replied. "They're going to kill Alec. I have to help him."
"Negative," the colonel said ruthlessly. "He's dead, Max. Do your duty."
*****
The water was shoulder-height now, and the lid was still descending. Sloshing from side-to-side in what had essentially become a bowl, Alec searched frantically for some way of escape. But the openings in the grill above his head were too small to get through and there was absolutely no other way out of the pit.
The crowd, meanwhile, was going wild with delight, cheering as the filthy transgenic clawed at the walls in a futile attempt to prolong its life.
Grasping the metal grate, Alec's eyes sought Max. She was his only hope now. But his mate was nowhere to be seen.
The liquid around the X5 rose unmercifully. Another minute passed and Alec was treading water, the grill inches from his head, the sound of the machinery as it lowered the coffin lid louder than even the vicious cries of the audience. All around above him the guards' evil faces leered like demons watching a soul thrash and burn in Hell.
With all his strength, Alec tried to force the metal pressing down on him back -- but it was no use. It was far too heavy for even his transgenic strength. And then suddenly -- he couldn't reach air anymore ... couldn't breathe ... and he was suffocating just like in his nightmare.
*****
Saul had arrived just in time for the night's climactic show -- the death of the transgenic. Dressed in impeccable evening attire, the handsome Familiar looked disconcertingly jovial, his perfect white teeth flashing in a huge smile and bedroom brown eyes sparkling. The deal must have gone well, Max thought.
She waited in the shadows of his box ... waited until Saul was seated and leaning forward, a sickening look of delight on his face as he watched the terrified Manticore boy dying down below.
Then she stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me," Max said with a sexy smile. He turned around, his mouth slightly agape at her beauty. "I've been admiring you," Max said huskily, taking hold of his head in both hands as if to kiss him. Acting like any male would under the circumstances, Saul closed his eyes and moved to put his lips on hers.
His neck snapped with a satisfying crack, and disdainfully she let his body fall to the floor like the garbage it was. Mission accomplished.
Which is when Max finally let herself look to the arena -- just in time to see Alec's frantic struggles calming as he drowned.
*****
By the time Max reached the lower floor the Familiars were raising the metal grid. Alec's body was floating face-up, limbs limp, his golden-green eyes staring blankly at nothing, his face peaceful.
Choking back a sob, Max made a vow then and there. They were all going to die ... all of them. Her brother's death ... her lover's death ... would not go unavenged.
"My lady," the valet said at her elbow. "Are you all right?"
Max turned dull eyes on the obsequious little man, then calmly reached out and snapped his neck the same way she had Saul's. "No," she said in a monotone as his body fell to the floor at her feet. "I'm not." Then she looked to the flooded arena again.
The Phalanx guard, the one from the cell block, was leaning from the platform, reaching to drag Alec's body out of the water. He took hold of the dead transgenic's arm--
--and a very much alive Alec exploded into action. Gripping the Familiar's hand, Alec pulled the man forward at the same time grabbing the machine gun the guard had cradled beneath his other arm. A burst of shots into the Phalanx soldier's gut left the cultist floating face down in the water surrounded by a rapidly spreading red stain.
And then, in a superhuman leap, the X5 was up and out of the tank and peppering the room with gunfire, taking out every guard he could see while elegantly dressed patrons stampeded in screaming terror.
A huge smile spread across Max's face as she realized the trick Alec had pulled. That metal lid had held him underwater for approximately five minutes, plenty enough time to drown an ordinary. But what the enemy hadn't realized was that X5s could hold their breath for seven.
*****
"You scared me to death, ass hole," Max commented as she crossed the cavern floor toward him.
Jessie, who'd been kept at gunpoint against the far wall until Alec's slaughter began, had watched the transgenic's performance in open-mouthed admiration. Dripping wet, and with the enemy for the moment on the run, Alec moved to the boy just as Max came up beside him.
"What can I say," the exhausted X5 quipped, his voice hoarse from swallowing so much water. "I'm a good actor. Saul dead?" he then asked, coughing and rubbing water out of his burning eyes with one hand while keeping firm hold of the machine gun with the other.
Max nodded. "We need to get out of here, now," she said. "Lydecker's got a transport waiting for us two miles north."
Alec sneezed, twice. (The water had been heavily chlorinated.) "What about the others?" he asked thickly, thinking about all the men and boys who were still under lock and key in the holding pen.
"We don't have time," she said. "According to Dix, the satellite shows Familiar reinforcements are on the way."
"Who are you people?" Jessie asked, having listened to the exchange. "Who's she?"
"I already told you, kid," Alec said with a little grin as he swiped wet hair out of his eyes and sniffed loudly. "We're not people. We're transgenics. And this is Max, by the way. She's my partner."
"We work for the government," Max said in a clipped voice. "And you need to get out of here too."
"Wait, wait," Alec said. He slipped the machine gun's strap off of his shoulder and handed the weapon to Jessie. "Go downstairs," he instructed the boy, "and kill any guards you see. Then get the keys and let the others go. Think you can do that?"
"I've ... I've never killed anyone before," the young man said. "I don't know if I can--"
Alec grabbed him hard by the arms and nailed him with a look. "You can do it." he said. "If you don't, all those men down there are gonna die. Max and I started the job ... but I'm countin' on you to finish it. Time to play hero," he added. Then he winked. "Take it from me, kid. You're gonna love it."
Jessie gulped, but then he nodded, and with one last look at the man who'd just become his hero, trotted off to free the others.
As Max and Alec slipped out the hotel's front door, wading through the chaos of Familiars milling around them, they heard gunfire from below and smiled.
*****
"What are you all ticked about Lydecker?" Max asked. "Saul's dead, the gladiator pit is out of business, the Familiars lost, mission accomplished."
The colonel was once again seated behind his desk at the North Dakota base, and once again his two troublesome "kids" were facing off against him, shoulder-to-shoulder, defiant, and unmistakably together.
"Yeah," Alec said, leaning against the wall. "We held up our end of the deal. So what's the problem?"
"What you got is called 'lucky'," Lydecker snapped. "Your execution of the mission was deplorable. If this was old Manticore you'd both be spending the next month in solitary."
Alec knew exactly what the man was getting at. "Max didn't break position," he said. "She knew I was in trouble, but you ordered her to sacrifice me and she did. Again, I say, what's the fuckin' problem?"
"The problem is that 452 spent way too much time worrying about you," the colonel said coldly. "Her attention should have been one hundred percent on her mission, and it wasn't. When the two of you work together, you're a distraction to each other."
"We get the job done," Max said, her voice as frigid as her commander's.
"Barely," Lydecker said. "And when Stendahl at Phoenix reads this report he's going to hit the roof. He's been against my use of Terminal City transgenics as free agents from the start. He believes all of you belong under strict military control ... his control." The colonel leaned forward over the desk. "You're not doing yourself and your family any favors by acting this way, Max."
"Acting what way?" she said snidely.
Lydecker's clear blue eyes traveled to Alec. "By letting your personal relationships interfere with what you were designed to do."
"Is Stendahl gonna do anything?" Alec asked.
"I don't know," Lydecker replied.
"Are we in danger?" Alec wasn't being cocky now. He was dead serious. He'd been under Major Davis Stendahl's command before back at Manticore and knew how ruthless the bastard could be. In fact, it had been Stendahl who'd issued the order to assassinate Roger Berrisford and his daughter Rachel ...
The colonel looked at his two soldiers a long time before answering with a single word that seemed to actually bring him pain. "Yes."
THE END
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