Artwork courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

DISCLAIMER: All DARK ANGEL characters belong to James Cameron and Charles Eglee (Cameron Eglee Productions) and DARK ANGEL itself belongs to FOX.

ARCHIVE: No

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. -- author's note

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

"Wishin' you went with her, aren't ya?"

Alec glanced up at Mole. Seated in a worn-out swivel desk chair with his sneakers propped up on the railing of TC's control center, the X5 had been absorbed in checking the firing mechanism of a short-handled shotgun. They'd been having trouble with the Steelheads lately -- the tech junkies feeling threatened by the new kids on the block and making noises about eliminating the competition -- and he found it calming to work with the gun. The soldier in him he supposed ... that and it kept his mind off the fact that Max was gone. However, he damn well wasn't going to let the lizard guy know how much he missed her.

"Eh," Alec grunted, one corner of his lip quirking up as he made the derogatory sound. "I hate Africa. It's a hot, smelly, itchy place. Last time I was deployed there I got a rash that just wouldn't quit. I was scratchin' for a week after my platoon got stateside again."

Mole took a big drag on his cigar, closed his eyes with bliss, then slowly puffed a series of smoke rings into the air. His lack of words spoke volumes.

"Hey!" Alec defended himself. "Max and me agreed that one of us needed to stay here to keep the home fires burnin', so to speak. And I did have that city council meeting last night. If I hadn't shown up to make a stink, the mayor probably would be shuttin' down the restaurant this very minute for all of those bogus trumped-up health code violations."

"Yeah," Mole agreed. "I watched the whole thing on the city's public access channel. You gave 'em hell ... told 'em where to go stick their supposed violations." Lizard lips peeled back in a lean toothy grin. "'Course it was what you didn't say that really made the bastards back down."

Alec grinned. "The fact that -- artist's community or not -- Terminal City is still home to more than three hundred well-armed, genetically enhanced supersoldiers who are more'n willing to fight for their right to eat coffee and doughnuts in the morning?"

"Exactly," Mole said. Coming closer, the transhuman put a scaly hand on Alec's shoulder. "She'll be home soon, man. And knowin' Max's powers of persuasion, she'll have sister Jondy in tow."

Alec sighed heavily and looked up at his friend. "I haven't seen Max so happy in a long time," he said. "When she got that email from Jondy it was like a big light went on inside of her. She's been lookin' for that sister for over half her life, and now, suddenly, there she is on the computer screen, picture and all."

"You knew the twin, didn't you?"

"X5-211," Alec said softly, remembering. "Called herself 'Maddox'. I grew up with her." He stared at Dix's back as the monocled mutant worked at one of the security terminals a few feet away. "She was in my Unit when I was a kid -- both my first one and the one they put me in after the '09 escape. But she didn't make it all the way through."

Mole cocked his head to one side, curious, but sensing the subject was a touchy one for the X5. "She was killed in training?"

Alec's smile was grim. "Not exactly." He looked directly into those curious lizard eyes. "We were doin' a live round exercise in the field back in '16. An explosion went off too early." He shifted his gaze to the blank wall, the memory surprisingly painful. "Maddox lost a leg. She could have been saved, according to the medics, but Lydecker overruled 'em. The bastard said he had no use for a damaged Unit other than for body parts."

"Man, that's cold," Mole said after an appropriate moment of silence.

"She's the one who first called me 'Dodger'," the X5 said quietly.

"Dodger?"

"It was what I went by back then -- a nickname -- until the handlers cracked down on us in '17 and we were ordered to only use our designations." He pondered that fact a moment. "Never quite fit me though, that name ... 'Alec' feels a lot more right."

He shook it off with another smile, rueful this time. "Oh well," he said. "What are ya gonna do? Other than be glad it wasn't me who got in the way of that explosive charge."

"Did you know Maddox very well?" Mole ventured.

His friend shrugged broad shoulders, at the same time snapping the shotgun barrel closed. "Not really. None of us were allowed to talk to each other much outside of training -- a 'no fraternization' rule implemented thanks to Max and her rugrat brothers and sisters' big breakout -- so it was kinda hard makin' friends. Still, she was a good kid, and she didn't deserve to die like that. I remember how scared she was after the accident ... how much pain she was in." His voice fell. "Lydecker shot her in the head, right there in the field ... right in front of the rest of us. I think it was supposed to be some kind of lesson ..."

Mole's hand was back on Alec's shoulder, the gesture meant to be comforting. "Why don't you go to her, Alec. I'm sure Max misses you too, and seein' Jondy could be a good thing for you."

Alec shook his head. "It's Max's show, Mole. 'Sides, I don't have the money for the plane ticket, or the papers for that matter. It was all Max could do to coax Lydecker into arrangin' the trip for her anyway. I could just hear the son-of-a-bitch if I showed up on his office doorstep beggin' a passport too 'cause I miss my girlfriend."

He brought his feet down to the floor with a thump and stood up, stretching stiff muscles. "I had an email from her last night though," Alec added. "She's havin' a ball with Jondy. They're both helpin' out at that Red Cross clinic where sis has been hidin' out from White and Lydecker and everyone else who's wanted us transies dead for the past couple of years ... where she disappeared to when she wore out her welcome in San Francisco. Sounds like Max might even be able to talk her into comin' to Terminal City."

"We can always use another X5," Mole admitted, puffing hard on his cigar stub. "I mean, why should Jondy waste her talents in the Congo when she can do the Florence Nightingale thing right here? I know Luke would appreciate a hand in the infirmary, and it sounds like the chick's a real high rated field medic."

"Either way, I think Max'll be home in a few days," Alec said. "A week tops." The smile this time was genuine as he looked at his friend. "And in the meantime, why don't you buy my lonely ass a Scotch? I put Dix over there," he nodded in the mutant's direction, "in touch with a new liquor source for the canteen and word has it the last delivery was some pretty good stuff."

"Just be sure you pay for your booze, boys," Dix said without turning around from his work station.

"Hey," Alec said in mock offense as he put away the shotgun. "Whatever happened to compliments of the house? Doesn't the fact I introduced you to my private supplier count for somethin'?"

"Not really," Dix said honestly, looking over his shoulder at the X5. "Not when money's so tight around here."

"Typical," Alec said, shaking his head in pretend dismay at Dix's lack of appreciation as he and Mole walked side-by-side out of the control center.

*****

Alec tossed and turned in bed that night for almost two hours before finally giving up and padding out to the kitchen/living area of the new quarters he and Max had recently moved into (and shared with Joshua).

The house was a single-story building on Oak Street -- probably the former home of some medical researcher -- that had been abandoned along with all the rest of the structures in TC after the '09 contamination. Looted and left to rot, Joshua had nevertheless insisted the place had potential -- something Alec had agreed with once he saw the spacious master bedroom with its private bath and high-ceilinged kitchen/great room.

Working hard for several weeks, he, Max, Joshua, Mole, Dix, and Luke had made the place livable. Of course power and water had taken a bit of doing to acquire, but TC's utility systems were constantly being expanded now by the fledgling community's innovative occupants, and the Oak Street area with its X5 contingency had finally been hooked up for both -- the wires and pipes unstable, but usually good enough for light and a shower.

Another set of rooms and a second bath were on the other side of the house, down a long hallway. It hadn't taken much persuasion on Max's part for Alec to agree that, since Joshua had been the one to find the house, it was only fair he be given dibs on that wing's occupation.

Now, as he rummaged for some food in the dark kitchen, Alec could hear the rhythmic cadence of the dog man's snores echoing down the hallway from his studio/bedroom at the far end.

He was searching the refrigerator for cheese when a knock at the front door surprised the hell out of him. Looking over his shoulder at the clock on the wall, Alec saw it was half past dead in the morning -- 0230. Who would come calling at this time of night?

Colonel Donald Lydecker Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

Taking a pistol out of the drawer by the stove -- as natural with the weapon in his hand as he would be with silverware -- the X5 walked to the door. Although barefoot and bare chested, wearing only a pair of baggy grey sweatpants and shivering slightly in the unheated air, Alec nevertheless had the air of a true professional soldier as he took up a stance to one side of the entrance and called out in a commanding voice, "Who's there?"

"Lydecker."

Alec blinked in the darkness, the pupils of his eyes irising wide as he leaned over slightly, peered out the curtained window by the door, and focused on the man standing on the porch. The New Manticore CEO was shuffling his feet and holding what looked like a file folder.

What now? Alec wondered tiredly as he tucked the Glock in the waistband of his sweats. Still, it must be important for 'Deck to venture into the contaminated area of Terminal City. Humans didn't dare be in the community for long or else they became sick, and Lydecker was neither a fool nor a martyr.

"Out for a little late night stroll are we?" Alec commented as he swung the door open. "And to what do I owe the honor of you disturbin' my beauty sleep?"

"Let me in," Lydecker said quietly. "We need to talk."

Something serious was up. Alec complied without further question or wisecrack.

The colonel looked around the living room, taking in his surroundings, or rather what he could see of them in the dark. Alec reached out and flipped on a light -- which is when he saw the deep sadness in Lydecker's eyes.

The X5's heart began to pound.

"Max is dead."

The soft words hadn't come from the colonel, but from Alec's lips -- a moment of prescience.

Lydecker nodded almost imperceptibly, seemingly unsurprised by the X5's intuition. "She and Jondy were both killed in a Mai Mai raid on the Walikale medical station late yesterday afternoon," he said bluntly, not trying to sugarcoat the news. He shifted the file folder in his hands. "My sources tell me the clinic was overrun by at least a hundred soldiers, and that there were no survivors."

Before Alec's numb mind could completely process what the colonel had just said, a horrific howl made both the X5 and the man jump.

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

"Max is dead?" Joshua cried out from the hallway where he'd been listening. "No! Max can't be dead! Little Fella can't be dead!"

The anguish in the dog man's voice mirrored everything Alec was feeling and more. Still, in spite of his own heart breaking, the X5 moved across the room to take hold of his big friend by the shoulders. "We don't know that for sure, Josh," Alec said in a low voice, the words really for himself as he stared intently into that pair of panicked tearful blue eyes. "We're not sure."

"Oh, we're sure," Lydecker said. He held out the file folder. "There's DNA evidence ... blood ... body parts ..."

Alec's head was spinning, his hands and knees shaking, only the soldier in him keeping him from sinking to the floor -- that and he knew he had to take care of Joshua. Max would want me to take care of Joshua.

"Come here, big guy," Alec said quietly, leading his friend by the hand on into the room where they both stood facing Lydecker.

"What happened? Exactly what happened?"

"Details are sketchy," the colonel said. "But apparently the Mai Mai invaded the medical camp yesterday, accusing the Red Cross workers of aiding the enemy."

"The Hutus," Alec said, pulling up in his mind the information he knew about the Congolese civil war -- a war that had been going on for almost 30 years. Like he'd told Mole, he'd once been on a mission in that part of Africa -- with Biggs in fact -- and had seen first hand the extreme animosity the various factions had for each other, as well as their ruthlessness toward anyone they perceived as the enemy. Back then he hadn't understood what could fuel that kind of racial hatred. But that was before he'd become a victim of racial hatred himself ... before he'd come to love his own tribe more than his own life.

"The Hutus," Lydecker agreed.

Joshua was looking terribly confused.

"I'll explain later," Alec said, squeezing his friend's arm.

Still, Joshua began to interrupt. "But Alec--"

"Let the man talk," Alec ordered, his tone brooking no nonsense.

Silently, obediently, his canine-like pal nodded.

"Max and Jondy were both in the encampment," Lydecker continued. "We know that for certain. They were seen there by reporters who'd been interviewing the senior doctor just before the raid. You know damn well those two would have fought to protect the people in the hospital ... the sick and wounded Jondy had been tending ... her co-workers." The colonel shook his head. "Why 210 felt the need to go halfway around the world to play nurse I'll never understand."

"Maybe because she wanted to help people who didn't want her dead or enslaved," Alec said, his tone clipped. "Go on. You said there was DNA evidence."

"As per the war agreement with the French, the Mai Mai provided a list of the dead after the skirmish, as well as returning personal effects." Lydecker looked down at the report in his hand. "A ring that belonged to Jondy was turned in."

"How do you know it was hers?"

"Because it was still on her severed finger."

Both men took a moment to breathe, the only sound in the room Joshua's resumed whimpers.

"Jondy's I.D. badge was also turned in, as was Max's," the colonel finally went on. "There was a lot of blood evidence. We got a positive DNA match on both. The Mai Mai's list also included their names."

"Bodies?" Alec asked, not caring that he sounded desperate, or that he was talking too fast. "An I.D. badge doesn't mean anything. Max is tough. Maybe she was wounded and went into hiding, and you of all people know how good she is at that game."

"The odds were a hundred to one, son," Lydecker said. "Besides, it's been twelve hours since the raid. Our people in the area say there's been no word of Max or any other survivors."

Alec looked off into the distance, his mind trying to race but seemingly stuck in a quagmire as his thoughts refused to go where logic dictated.

"Alec?" Joshua whispered.

The X5 knew there was only one thing he could do.

"I'm goin' there," he said, in a tone of voice no one on Earth would have dared argue with.

"I was going to ask you to anyway," Lydecker said. "The bodies of our people need to be retrieved for national security purposes, and our forces in the area are spread too thin as it is. My men can't leave their current assignments. I have a passport and the other paperwork for you with me, as well as a commercial plane ticket. Your flight leaves in three hours. Our jet would take you but it's in service on another mission right now."

Alec actually smiled -- just a little bit -- his cocky facade valiantly clawing its way on top of the grief. "I'm not goin' to get Max's body," he said. "I'm goin' to bring her back alive."

"She's dead, son."

"You don't know that for sure," Alec insisted sternly, his hazel-green eyes flashing. "No one does. All you have is an I.D. badge. Until I see her myself I'm--" Suddenly Alec's voice cracked, and to his horror he felt hot tears rising in his throat.

"Alec," Joshua whimpered.

But Alec had it under control. No way was he going to break down in front of Lydecker. It took tremendous strength on his part, but the facade -- that protective emotional barrier he'd nurtured for all of his adult life and that was as much a part of him as breathing -- held.

"Leave the papers and get out," the X5 said through clenched teeth.

Lydecker -- his eyes full of surprising sympathy -- nodded. "Take care of him," he said to Joshua, his gruff voice an emotional rasp. "Don't let him do anything stupid like--"

"He said get out," Joshua echoed Alec's words, punctuating the command with a snarl.

Lydecker took the hint.

*****

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

Joshua was devastated, but he was also scared ... scared for Alec.

After Lydecker left, the dog man took his friend in his arms, hugging him tightly, gently rubbing the X5's shuddering back as Alec let go at last.

"Alec?" Joshua finally ventured as minutes later he felt the young transgenic's trembling lessening. "You all right?"

"Yeah," Alec mumbled against Joshua's flannel shirt. He sniffed loudly and pulled back to wipe a bare forearm across his wet face. "I'm fine. I'll ... be fine." Then the X5 looked up, and Joshua could see the almost superhuman effort it was taking Alec to regain his center. "We don't know for sure that she's dead Josh," he said huskily. "We don't know anything really. Won't until I get my ass to the Congo."

"Alec will find Max alive," Joshua said adamantly, staring intently into hazel-green eyes bright with tears. "Alec will make everything be all right."

"Sure," the X5 said low under a shuddering breath. "Alec's a real miracle worker."

Joshua nodded in eager agreement, not recognizing the sarcasm. "Yes! Alec can do miracles!" He grabbed the X5's upper arms in a grip hard enough to make the transgenic wince. "Alec, you and Joshua are alike. We both were made by Father ... by Manticore. We both survived. We both love our people--"

"We both have dead twin brothers who were psycho killers with oral fixations," Alec chimed in with the ghost of a forced quirky smile.

"We both love Max," Joshua said sternly, ignoring Alec's attempt to hide behind humor.

Alec shrugged away, flexing his arm. "Lighten up, Josh," he said, emotionally landing on his feet at last. "Havin' a pity party isn't gonna do Max any good. She needs you and me to be strong right now, not just to save her, but to keep Terminal City in good shape." His words were as much for himself as for Joshua, and they both knew it -- but it helped anyway.

The X5 turned his back on the dog man, heading for his room. "I'm gonna pack and get to the airport," he tossed over his shoulder. "You go tell Mole what's happened, and that I'm puttin' him and Dix in charge until Max and I get back."

*****

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

Max's things were everywhere he looked -- her t-shirt tossed over the back of a chair; her comb and brush on the dresser; one of her precious black leather jackets carefully hung on his side of the closet because her own side was full; a fug-ugly hat lying on the desk where it definitely didn't belong. Alec glanced at the bed they shared. He'd been sleeping all week holding Max's pillow in his arms, her lingering scent giving him sweet dreams ...

Get hold of yourself, soldier! He recognized the danger of slipping into maudlin sentimentality. Emotion is a weakness! He could still hear Lydecker screaming that at him after the Berrisford fiasco. Love is a weakness! And the colonel was right, of course. Love did indeed make men weak ... brought them to their knees ... killed them ... even X5s ...

But he already loved Max. That ship had sailed, and Alec knew from experience that there was nothing to be done about it -- except endure the pain and try to stay sane.

Pulling a backpack out from under the bed, he began tossing clothes into it -- a second pair of jeans, a couple of t-shirts, socks, clean underwear ... The Congo was rough territory. He'd have to acquire specialized gear ... weapons ... once he arrived. He reached for his comb on the dresser, and there was the sound of something falling. Looking down, Alec's eyes zoomed in on Max's motorcycle keys lying on the floor.

She'd admonished him when she left that he'd better make sure there wasn't a single scratch on her baby when she got back ... made him swear that he wouldn't let anyone use her precious Ninja, himself included -- said she'd kick his ass if the paint was even dusty ...

Which is when Alec began to shake again, his hands trembling as pent-up emotions finally overwhelmed all of his mental barriers.

Max would never ride her motorcycle again. He'd never hold her again ... kiss her ... make love to her ... even see her.

Max was gone -- forever.

And as sobs wracked his body, Alec wanted to die too.

*****

Kinshasa Airport

The airport in Kinshasa, capital of Zaire, was as hot as an oven. Disembarking from the commuter plane he'd caught out of Cape Town, Alec (already sweating profusely in his black leather jacket, t-shirt, and jeans) ran fingers back through his damp hair in exasperation, pushing it out of his eyes, somewhat sorry now that he'd let his dark blond locks grow out over the past two years to a decidedly unmilitary collar-length style. When Mole teased him about it, calling him "Goldilocks," he'd given the practical excuse that it covered the bar code on the back of his neck. But in reality, Alec wore his hair longer now because Max liked it. He knew because she raked fingers sensuously through the strands while they made love, stroking him like some kind of erotic pet in a way that always increased his hardness. However, sensuous or not, he could already tell his long hair was going to be a nuisance on this mission. Oh well ... he could always wear a headband he supposed.

Putting personal grooming issues aside (as well as thoughts of Max's hands on his body), Alec stood at the bottom of the plane's stairs and peered out at the shimmering tarmac and nearby terminal through his sunglasses, doing the math in his head -- 125 miles to Walikale, the site of the Red Cross clinic where Max had been with Jondy. By Jeep, and on the poor roads he knew were all this country offered, it would take him more than half a day. The 11 hour flight from the states with its three layovers had been hard enough to endure, most of the time spent nervously chewing his thumb, staring out windows at empty sky or asphalt, and vividly remembering every moment of his life with Max ... every way he'd betrayed her ... let her down ... their arguments ... how he could never quite measure up to Logan in her eyes ... But also the missions they'd pulled off together ... the times she'd saved his ass ... the smoldering anger between them that was really passion in disguise ... the incredibly hot sex ... the deep understanding love that had finally emerged from the turmoil of their complex antagonistic relationship ...

In truth, Alec had always known he would one day lose her. Afterall, he'd done too many bad things in his lifetime to win the girl in the end. He wasn't a good guy ... a hero. In fact, in his own personal opinion (because of Rachel), Alec pretty much thought of himself as a barely redeemed villain.

But those self doubts, deprecating feelings, and fears had usually been in the shape of Max returning to Logan Cale, the man she'd loved first and, truth be told, best -- either that or her being swallowed up by Manticore again. Somehow it had never even occurred to Alec (even in his worst nightmares) that X5-452 would simply get herself killed.

She's not dead. She can't be dead -- words that had become a litany -- whispered in his head as he walked toward the terminal, backpack slung over one shoulder.

Sgt. Henry Parker Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

However, the sight of Sgt. Henry Parker waiting by the car rental counter silenced the slightly insane inner mantra and brought Alec up short.

"Lydecker sent you," Alec said as he approached the man -- a statement, not a question.

The sergeant, one of Alec's former Manticore handlers, nodded. Parker had promoted up and out to the CIA several years ago, the X5 knew, and had subsequently been recruited by Ames White to help with the transgenic extermination. (Who better to hunt X5s down than a man who'd once been their trainer?) However, when White's true motives were revealed and he was booted from the Agency, Parker had found himself out on the street as well -- which is when Lydecker had approached him about returning to his former place of employment.

"'Deck tryin' to keep me on a leash?"

"We always keep close tabs on our X5s," the blond blue-eyed man replied. In his mid thirties with the trim build and neat appearance of a career soldier, Parker wasn't exactly one of Alec's favorite people. But on the other hand, the guy had never tortured him either. Rather, the sergeant had always been somewhat in awe of his X5 charges, treating them with cautious respect that, at times, bordered on outright admiration, even while teaching them how to do unspeakable things. As for the soldier's brief alliance with White, Alec couldn't really hold a grudge against the guy for trying to make a living and obeying orders.

He could handle this.

"Not on this one you don't," Alec said evenly. "Why are you here? Is there more news about Max?"

"No," Parker said, the single word bringing both disappointment and relief to the X5 -- disappointment that there wasn't anything more to go on, but relief that at least Max's body hadn't been found.

"Why are you here?" Alec repeated, taking off the sunglasses.

The sergeant shuffled his feet nervously, and Alec fought the urge to smirk. Things certainly were different now that there weren't three guys cradling machine guns between himself and his handler.

"I was stationed in the area," Parker said. "Well, not exactly in the area. I was in Johannesburg checking up on a Red enclave -- they're making a deal for some Manticore DNA samples and I've been keeping tabs on the money man. The action's going down this Friday and I'm supposed to observe so we can get a trace on their funds route. But the colonel called and told me to meet you when you landed and give you this." He held out some papers and a bottle of medication.

"What is it?" Alec asked, one eyebrow lifting suspiciously as he regarded the unlabeled contents of the bottle. The papers were self explanatory -- additional I.D. so he wouldn't be detained by the Congolese police, and a little bit of cash in the local currency -- about enough to buy a sandwich he thought wryly as he thumbed through the small stack of bills. New Manticore and its tight budget ...

"Methaqualone."

Alec blinked at that. "Quaalude? Why the fuck would 'Deck send you a thousand miles off your mission just to give me a bottle of downers?"

Parker regarded him with surprising steadiness. "The colonel told me you'd ask that ... that you wouldn't just follow orders." He took a deep breath. (It was difficult for this Manticore officer to face down a completely free X5.) "He said to remind you about the last time you were in the Congo -- the mission in '18. He said to remind you about what happened to X5-298."

Alec scowled. "Nothin' much to tell," he said. "Corey went nuts while we were in the jungle. What of it? Shit happens. Hell, my brother went nuts too."

"Exactly," Parker replied. "Although X5-493 was evil as well as crazy."

"Not evil," Alec said quickly, surprising himself at the way he was defending Ben. "Just broken -- by Manticore. What's this got to do with the dope?" He rattled the pills in the bottle.

"Lydecker doesn't trust you," Parker said bluntly. "He's afraid that what happened to Cody, and to Ben, could happen to you. You're under a lot of emotional stress right now, and more importantly, you're going to be entering the jungle."

Alec still didn't understand. He shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm not gonna go crazy. And why would the jungle bother me? Afraid I'll get jock itch from the heat and humidity, and scratch myself into a psychotic frenzy?"

"Puis-je vous aider?" (May I help you?) a passing employee asked.

Parker blanched slightly.

"What?" Alec muttered. "Forgot they speak French here?" The X5 put on his friendliest smile, and turned to the man. "J'ai besoin d'un véhicule. Je passerai a la caisse dans une minute," he said. (I need a vehicle. I'll be at the counter in a minute.)

"Très bien." (Very good.) The worker, a black man wearing a faded coverall with an Avis logo, walked back to his desk on the other side of the atrium.

"We never found out what really happened to Ben," Parker continued once the employee was out of earshot. "But we do know what happened to Cody, and our geneticists think you could be susceptible. By the way," he added. "I'd forgotten you got the full language package. Lydecker should have sent me your updated file."

"Susceptible to what? Jungle fever?" Alec snapped. "And yeah, I'm a real cunning linguist."

"Jungle fever?" the sergeant repeated, ignoring Alec's off-color quip -- either that or, as the X5 suspected, not getting it. "I suppose that's as apt a description as any."

Glancing around the still relatively empty atrium of the terminal, Parker nevertheless took hold of Alec's jacket sleeve and pulled him into a more secluded alcove. "Back in '18, the jungle setting ... the atmosphere ... it triggered something in X5-298's subconscious. Our scientists, after doing an autopsy to rule out pathogenic causes, determined that what happened to that Unit was caused by his genetics."

"His DNA went wonky?" Alec said. "Because of the heat or something?"

"No," Parker said. "His DNA didn't fail him. Rather, it worked too well."

"Forget this shit," Alec said, tiring of the conversation and anxious to get on with his search for Max. He tossed the bottle of pills back to the sergeant.

"494!" Parker barked. "You're part cat ... jungle cat."

"So what? Meow?" Alec snarked.

"Many of your body's key systems are enhanced by feline DNA," the officer said in a rush. "It can't help but affect all of you, including your endocrine glands and brain chemistry. Sandeman used house cats for some of his earliest experiments combining animal DNA with human. But when Manticore took over, they added something a little more potent to the mix."

"Oh, for God's sakes," Alec said, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I'm part panther, or tiger, or lion, or whatever, but that doesn't mean--"

"Leopard," Parker said quietly. "You're part black leopard. Manticore kept two of the big cats at Vivadyne labs where all of the X series were built. Their names were 'Jet' and 'Knight' -- a breeding pair. All of the X5s contain their DNA."

"Well I'm just twitchin' my kitty-cat tail over this," Alec said. "What? Lydecker's afraid I'm gonna go native? Turn into Tarzan or somethin' just 'cause I'm on my ancestor's home turf?"

"Something like that," Parker replied. "Lydecker wants you to take the medication just in case what happened to 298 happens to you. Call it a precaution."

"Call it slowin' me down," Alec spat. "''Luudes will do that, even to an X5. I can't afford to be off my game. Max's life depends on it."

"Max is dead. You're just here to retrieve the body."

"We don't know that for sure."

"494--"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" Shrugging his pack up higher on a shoulder, Alec started down the hallway to the rental counter.

"It's probably what happened to Jondy!" Parker called after him. "It's why she stayed in the Congo! There's a lure here, and it will lead you into a mental trap! You can't fight your basic instincts, 494 ... your DNA!"

"Oh, God," Alec groaned, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands at the absurdity of his life.

*****

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

Once he had the keys to a Jeep, Alec hit the local stores in search of gear and apparel. T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers weren't going to cut it on this kind of mission.

As he browsed the shops in Kinshasa's main shopping square -- eyebrows rising at the inflated prices -- the X5 actually found himself thinking wistfully about the "good old days" back at Manticore -- the original, not the 2.0 version. The small matter of brainwashing and torture aside, at least soldiers there had been properly equipped, no expense spared.

And speaking of expenses ... Alec whistled low under his breath at the price of a good hunting knife on display in the "Jungle King" weapons store. This was ridiculous. He'd brought cash with him, of course -- everything he had as a matter of fact, plus the additional pittance Lydecker had provided -- but at this rate he'd blow through it in half an hour. And if the price of the knife was so high, he knew darn well that submachine gun in the window would be out of his budget range too.

"Est-ce que ce couteau vous interesse?" the clerk said. (Are you interested in the knife?)

"On verra plus tard," (Later) Alec said easily, eying the security camera behind the counter that was pointed at the door. He'd be coming back here tonight -- after closing.

Clothes weren't quite as expensive, and the X5 soon had himself outfitted in a black commando-style jumpsuit from "William's Togs" (or at least that's what the French name of the store translated into) that would stand up to jungle trekking. Adjusting the belt, Alec checked himself out in the dressing room mirror and actually did a double-take.

The last time he'd worn an outfit like this he'd looked a whole lot younger, even though it had only been three years ago. Now -- as he subconsciously squared his shoulders, coming to attention -- Alec saw there was something definitely older about those hazel-green eyes staring back at him ... the set of his jaw ... a couple of character lines on his face that hadn't been there before ...

He raised his chin a fraction, conceitedly studying his unquestionably handsome reflection. His good looks were indeed striking, but beyond them there was something else. It took him a moment to figure out just what -- and then he saw it -- a dangerous glitter in the greenish gold depths of those eyes (a glitter Manticore had put there).

Alec smiled then, the expression wicked (not realizing how very much he looked like his brother Ben in that instant). The longer hair and beard stubble made a difference too, he thought -- the slight shagginess of his appearance attesting to just how far from Manticore's dress code this rogue transgenic had strayed. He was his own man now ... a mature X5 ... in charge of his life and emotions ... free to live and love.

And paying the consequences ...

Max is dead. I loved her, and now she's dead, and it hurts so bad.

Alec shook his head, clenching his teeth slightly as he forced his thoughts back on track. Not dead. Missing. And I'm gonna find her.

Stuffing his own clothes in the backpack which he planned to leave in a locker at the airport, Alec turned away from the mirror and walked out to the cashier still wearing the combat uniform. "Je le prend" (I'll take it), he said, ripping off the price tag and handing it to the employee. "Et les bottes aussi" (And the boots too).

*****

Early the next morning a silent alarm went off at "Jungle King." The police responded within three minutes. However, when they arrived, all they found was the front door smashed in and three weapons missing (a large hunting knife, a Glock 65, and a P90 submachine gun plus ammo). The culprit revelaed on the video -- a male wearing a black combat uniform and face mask who moved with inhuman swiftness -- had already vanished.

*****

The road to Walikale

Climbing stiffly out of the Jeep in Walikale after a 7 hour ride that had his tailbone aching, Alec's first impression was that this was a town under siege. Everywhere he looked there were soldiers. Granted, the weapons they carried were mostly outdated, and they probably lacked ammunition. Still, there was something in the eyes of the men he saw that warned the X5 to be wary. These were desperate people ... people who hated the "enemy" with a fierce passion -- a passion Manticore had never tried to instill in its own soldier-Units because that kind of emotion inevitably lead to fanaticism.

A relatively small community consisting of mud and wooden houses surrounding an open-air market and a few more sturdy commercial buildings, Walikale was a town of mixed-heritage caught in the middle of a violent history -- part third world native village, part 21st century progress, and part military base. Sometimes run by the Hutus, and sometimes run by the Mai-Mai, its citizens -- mostly women, children and old men since all of the young men had been conscripted -- had learned long ago to simply display whatever flag they were offered and keep their mouths shut.

On one level, Alec felt sorry for the poor bastards, but on another -- he simply didn't care. He was here for one reason -- to find and rescue Max. Whether soldier or innocent native, anyone who got in his way was going to get run over.

His approach hadn't been stealthy -- driving into the main square in the late afternoon sunlight, acting as if he had legitimate business to conduct here. Very much aware that he was under scrutiny, Alec -- paperwork in hand -- hefted the P90 by its strap, and headed for a building that displayed the universal Red Cross insignia.

The Mai-Mai soldier who stopped him on the steps by placing a hand firmly in the center of the X5's chest had the dead eyes of a man who knew little besides hatred.

"Identification!" he barked, the French word the same as English.

Alec silently held out the paperwork Lydecker had provided. However, the soldier barely glanced at it, his beady black eyes instead fastening greedily on the high-tech machine gun.

"Americain," Alec said quickly. "Je fait partie de la Croix-Rouge, Medecins Sans Frontieres." (American. I have business with the Red Cross -- Doctors Without Borders.) He hoped invoking the universally respected organization would perhaps gain him some leeway here.

"Vous n'avez pas vraiment l'air d'un medecin." (You don't look like a doctor to me.)

"Je suis ici pour prendre des nouvelles de deux de mes collegues. On nous a dit qu'il y avait des blesses." (I'm here to check on two of our people. We were told there were casualties.)

The black face split into a wide grin. "Oui. Il y avait des blessés. Beaucoup de blessés." (Yes. There were casualties. Many casualties.)

The guy seemed sickeningly happy about it, Alec thought, and he resisted the urge to smash those brilliant white teeth with his fist. "Je cherche deux femmes ... femmes blanches." (I'm looking for two women ... white women.) Although technically Max wasn't caucasion, but rather of ambiguous racial heritage, Alec wanted to make the distinction that he wasn't looking for natives.

"Whores?" The grin on the man broadened as his eyes slid lasciviously down Alec's body. "Le petit Americain veut baiser? Et une seule n'est pas assez? " (The American boy wants to fuck? And one isn't enough?)

Alec refused to be baited. "IElles font partie du personnel medical. Savez-vous ce qui est arrive aux deux femmes?" (They're medical workers ... nurses. Do you know what happened to the two women?)

The Mai-Mai shrugged, and called out to another soldier who went into the Red Cross building. A minute later the second man came out holding a box that he dropped on the ground at Alec's feet.

Wallets, I.D. badges, and other personal effects that hadn't been worth any money to the Mai Mai were stacked in the container -- and right on top was something Alec recognized. Picking up Max's billfold (emptied of money of course) he flipped past her motorcycle license to a picture -- one of him that Sketchy had taken during his city council campaign. A lump rose in Alec's throat. The thought had never occurred to him that Max might carry a photo of him.

"Ou sont-elles?" he said quietly. (Where are they?)

The soldier pointed to what looked like some kind of barn about two hundred yards behind the Red Cross building on the edge of the jungle.

"Merci." (Thank you.) he said, no longer looking at the man, but at the place where he feared Max was waiting.

*****

Barn

The sound of the soldier's chuckle followed him as the X5 strode through tall grass and mud to the barred doors of the structure, a dilapidated wooden building with termite-eaten walls and a rusting metal roof that had probably been used for crop storage back when Walikale had been a farming town instead of a war zone.

Alec knew what was inside long before entering. His acute senses had warned him hundreds of feet before reaching the doors. The sound of buzzing insects ... blow flies ... filled his ears in the otherwise eerie silence around him, as if Mother Nature was holding her breath against the stench too.

There were thousands of those flies, their ceaseless hum an ominous frightening cacophony that could easily drive a man mad, attracted by death ... feeding on--

Alec's mind couldn't go there. He was having enough trouble keeping the nausea at bay. But he knew he had to open those doors ... had to find out for sure ... had to see her body with his own eyes ...

Taking a deep breath of the still relatively fresh air outside the barn, Alec forced himself to lift the heavy wooden bar and push open the panels.

*****

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

All of his years at Manticore ... all of the atrocities he'd seen ... the things he'd been forced to do himself ... the inhumaness of his life ... still hadn't prepared the young X5 for the sight that awaited him in the murky darkness of that building.

There were bodies everywhere ... in corners, against the walls, on the dirt floor, piled like cord wood or discarded refuse. Stiffened by rigor mortis, arms and legs stood out at sharp twisted angles as open opaque eyes stared sightlessly at the living breathing being who dared intrude in this place of absolute death.

Alec stood in the doorway, hand gripping the wooden frame tightly as his mind fought to comprehend the savage cruelty that had taken place here. The Hutu corpses -- black men so far as he could see -- had all been stripped naked, the bodies mutilated, severed limbs scattered here and there like pieces of a giant puzzle knocked out of place. He saw a head, its mouth gaping and eyes eaten away ... a mess of intestines beside a boy who'd been eviscerated, his stomach cavity now filled with maggots ... a pile of testicles ...

Covered suddenly with cold sweat, shivering in spite of the 90 degree heat, all Alec could hear was the sound of his own heart pounding -- then the contents of his stomach heaved.

The vomiting lasted quite awhile, his last meal and more coming up until there was nothing left to retch but bile. Still, he stayed doubled over, one hand gripping the door frame, his knees shaking as he fought for the strength to finish what had to be done.

Max and Jondy were in that barn -- and it was his duty to go in there and find them.

At last, still nauseous but able to raise his head without the world spinning, Alec straightened and swung the double doors wide, letting in light beyond the filtered sunbeams streaking through cracks in the barn's walls. Dust motes sparkled in the putrid air, and there was a feeling of oppression to the atmosphere of the interior like a hand pressing against his face and throat.

The X5 wondered briefly about spirits ... ghosts. If ever there was a place that should be haunted, this was it. However, the only sound was the incessant buzzing of the flies as they fed and bred in the decaying bodies.

Forcing himself to take his time, being methodical, Alec slowly made his way through the building, carefully looking at each corpse as he passed -- his cat eyes compensating nicely for the semi-darkness -- one hand covering his nose and mouth in a vain attempt to block some of the horrid odor. Sometimes the victims were in a pile, and he had to push the top ones aside with his foot to check those on the bottom. Other times there were just pieces ...

However, he reached the back of the barn and still hadn't seen any sign of lighter skin.

And then Alec noticed there was another room -- a small door leading to a lean-to or shack tacked onto the rear of the main building. He had to stoop slightly to get through the entrance.

Inside was the worst carnage of all -- women, children, babies ...

With a choked cry of horror, Alec threw himself against a wall and pounded the wood with a fist until the board splintered. How can humans do this to each other? How can anyone calling himself a man kill innocent, helpless people like this? Alec knew that war was war, and he certainly knew all about taking orders, but there were limits beyond which even an X5's brainwashed conscience would never go. The only creatures he'd ever encountered capable of committing these kinds of atrocities were the pain masters back in Manticore psy-ops -- cold physicians who put the value of scientific knowledge above the helpless screams of their victims on the torture table.

Alec knew that whoever had done this -- what he was looking at in this room -- was far worse than any of those so-called doctors. Whoever had done this was insane ... and purely, beyond redemption evil.

The women had all been raped, tortured and mutilated ... the children gutted and beheaded ... the babies smashed to death, probably with the butts of rifles.

Still, they were all dark skinned bodies. But then--

He saw a hand sticking out from beneath three other corpses ... a slender pale hand ...

*****

Alec couldn't bring himself to touch the putrid mess lying on top of her, but he knew he had to. He had to get her out of here.

Looking around, the X5 saw a crowbar hanging on the wall. Picking it up, he used it like a hook to drag the top bodies aside.

She was lying face down on the floor, naked, arms outflung, her beautiful form bloated, tinged greyish blue and covered with dried blood, her long dark hair matted into a hard stiff coagulated mass. The bar code was there -- on the back of her neck. He could make out the remains of the genetic tattoo, but the marks were distorted ... unreadable. Rot had set in, and the maggots were doing their work, pockets of flesh undulating as the worms ate.

At that moment, Alec's mind -- simply fled. It had to. It was the only way he could finish this job. An automaton, a robot, he hooked the corpse with the crow bar like the piece of stinking meat it now was and flipped it over. She'd been raped of course ... there were cuts and contusions down there ... on her inner thighs. It looked like they'd shot her first, once in the stomach and once in the leg before finishing the job by slitting her throat. Still, she must have fought like a wildcat as they held her down and--

Alec took a deep breath, and forced himself to look at her face, or rather what was left of her face, the features distorted by decay but still recognizable.

"Jondy," he whispered.

*****

Alec spent another 10 minutes in that hideous oubliette -- and found no sign of the one he was truly seeking.

However, before he could continue his search for Max, Jondy needed to be taken care of.

It didn't take long to gather a pile of dry wood in a clearing near the barn. Using a tarp, he dragged his sister's body to the center of the pyre, then -- while a crowd of Mai Mai soldiers gathered around to watch -- he used his lighter to set the tinder on fire.

Jondy had died in pain and shame and terror, but her remains would at least be treated with the respect an X5 soldier deserved -- nor would there be anything left for the Reds, or the Chinese, or New Manticore, or anyone else seeking supersoldier technology to defile. Her priceless DNA would be kept safe -- forever.

"Have a good journey, sister," Alec said softly to the woman he'd never known, but who was still family, as he watched the flames consume the body. Saluting sharply as the smoke and sparks rose, the X5 looked heavenward at the darkening sky, not realizing that the last rays of sunset were reflecting inhumanly green in the dilated pupils of his eyes.

But the watching Mai Mai soldiers saw ...

*****

Captain Renoir

A mature male X5 is the most dangerous animal on the planet.

His respects paid, as Jondy's funeral pyre burned at his back 494 turned his attention to the occupiers of the village ... her murderers. The curious soldiers -- maybe 30 in number -- were standing in a semi-circle around him, holding torches for light but keeping a wary distance, watching with cold dark eyes, waiting to see what the American would do.

Alec lightly rested a hand on the P90 hanging from its strap on his shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. Somewhere in the nearby jungle a big cat screamed, and a thrill of primitive excitement ran down his spine even as the men surrounding him nervously shifted their feet and looked toward the tree line.

"Where's the other woman?" 494 said, his voice calm, deep, and full of authority, carrying in the still air of the humid evening. He deliberately spoke the words in English because he wanted to flush out the head honcho ... the educated one.

A strategy that worked ...

"She's not here," a tall black man said, the words American but in a thick French accent. A captain (surname "Renoir" according to his badge), he was wearing a brace of pistols, and had an ammo belt slung over one shoulder. However, his big hands were empty as he held them out in front of him. Stepping forward into the flickering firelight, the medals pinned on his chest shone like tiny sparks.

"Is she dead?" Alec asked, needing to know the worst up front. "The second woman?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

Renoir's smile was almost sincere. "She was your woman, yes?"

"Yes," Alec said, the single syllable a hiss.

The panther screamed again in the trees, and the X5 looked up, still not realizing how the firelight was making his eyes glow eerily green. The men in the circle began to mutter low under their breath, and there was the sound of guns cocking.

"What are you?" the captain asked. Unlike his soldiers, he was still standing calmly, hands on his belt now, seemingly unconcerned about the dangerous creature poised by the fire.

"Un démon," Alec replied with another little smile. (A demon.) "La Mort." (Death.) And quite honestly, that's what the X5 felt like at the moment. He wanted to kill something very, very badly ...

The agitated whispers of the men intensified.

"Where is she, Renoir?" Alec repeated, in English again.

"Fontane took her."

At last, a straight answer.

"Where? Why? And who's Fontane?"

"He lives in the hills," the captain said. "He has a force of a thousand men."

"Un bandit?" (A bandit?) Alec guessed.

"A freedom fighter," the man corrected him. "A hero. Someone who fights for the Mai Mai people."

"And he took Max?" Alec said, needing to be perfectly clear. "The second woman?"

"Yes. Some of his men were present during our raid on this village. They recognized your woman as an American and realized her value."

"As a hostage," Alec said, understanding now even as his hopes soared. If Max was a hostage, then that meant she might very well be alive. "But they killed the other girl. Why?"

The captain shrugged. "There was a grudge against that one," he said. "She'd made enemies ... caused trouble. They say she was very strong for a bitch, and that she'd hurt men. She got what she deserved, the whore."

Alec saw it now. Jondy had been defending her turf ... the helpless citizens of Walikale who'd helped her at the Red Cross station. But Max was the new kid on the block and fair game for ransom.

Ransom.

"How much does this Fontane want for her?"

The captain shrugged. "You'll have to ask him."

"How do I find him?"

"Difficult," Renoir replied. "But I have a feeling he's going to enjoy meeting you, démon."

Alec was done here. "I have a feeling he'll enjoy meeting me too," he said softly. And then he raised the barrel of the P90 and pulled the trigger.

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

Bullets streaked like fireworks through the night as Alec leaped into a spectacular mid-air cartwheel in front of the flames ... strafing the crowd ... firing in staccato bursts ... delivering death to the ones who'd butchered his sister.

Landing gracefully on his feet at the edge of the circle, he spun around to attack the soldiers from the side, gun still blazing, ignoring the few wild shots that were coming his way, his night vision making targeting easy. Most of the men were running now, terrified. Panting lightly, Alec bared his teeth in savage joy as he listened to the screams of pain coming from the wounded and smelled the blood of the dead. It had been a long time since he'd felt this kind of freedom ... this kind of satisfaction ... a long time since he'd killed the way he'd been created to.

There was a movement on the edge of his peripheral vision, and the X5's head whipped around to see Renoir standing not five feet away with both pistols pointed at him. Reacting as he'd been trained, Alec brought the submachine gun to bear, finger tightening once again on the trigger -- only to have it click empty.

"I'm the one who fucked the bitch first, then gave her to the others," the captain said as he took aim at Alec's heart. "And when my men were done with her, I slit her throat." A toothy grin. "I must say, it was gratifying to discover that your freak kind scream and bleed just as easily as mine. And don't look surprised. I've known what you were from the moment you set foot in my village, just like I knew what they really were. Zaire may be a long way from Seattle, Washington, but news still travels in this broken world. Even I've heard about the Manticore transgenics."

"You have no idea what my kind can really do," Alec spat.

And then he blurred, the fully loaded Glock at his waist forgotten in the heat of his battle rage.

Both of Renoir's guns roared, and the X5 felt the sting of a bullet crease his right shoulder. However, adrenalin carried him through the pain. Bowling his opponent over with his weight, Alec landed on the man's chest, pinning him to the ground like a big cat even as he ripped the guns out of the captain's grasp in a two-handed move too fast for the human eye to follow. Glancing around quickly, the transgenic assessed the situation and saw that the two of them were essentially alone in the circle of dying firelight, the other soldiers all either dead, wounded, or having fled.

Beneath him, Renoir's eyes widened with fear, and it was all Alec could do to not simply tear the human's throat out with his bare teeth. But he wasn't about to prove Lydecker right. No matter what Manticore had done to him ... to his body ... to his DNA ... he wasn't an animal.

He was a man -- and instead he settled for backhanding his captured prey across the mouth. Then, holding Renoir in a death grip, Alec leaned down so his lips were mere inches from the captain's ear. "Max," he breathed the name of his beloved. "What did you do to Max?"

"If I tell you will you let me live?" Renoir gurgled through bleeding teeth.

Alec thought about all those women and children in the barn ... about Jondy.

"No."

Knowing he was a dead man, the captain smiled and took great joy in delivering the cruel words anyway. "I had my men hold her down while I raped her, and then I gave her to Fontane. She is still alive, transgenic filth -- unfortunately for her. But quite honestly, if I were you, I wouldn't want what's left of her back, not after--"

Alec -- his expression dispassionate, those green eyes now as cold as they'd been blazing before -- broke the man's neck with one easy twist of his hand, the snap quite audible in the sudden eerie silence of the clearing.

And off in the jungle the panther screamed again.

*****

His cell phone rang.

"Lydecker," he said curtly into the receiver, his breath a vapor in the unheated Seattle office.

"Sir, it's Sergeant Parker," the distant voice said. "I think we might have a problem."

"With the South African deal?" Lydecker said, his grizzled eyebrows creasing slightly.

"No, sir. With X5-494."

Lydecker sighed heavily and resisted the urge to simply hang up the phone.

"What's he done now? No. Don't tell me. He refused to take the meds and has gone off profile."

"'Gone off profile' is putting it mildly, sir," Parker said. "Why did you send him down her on this mission anyway? You know how he's involved with the female, and this Unit has always been emotionally unstable. His feline DNA's more integrated than some Units too, which means his brain's going to be affected by his surroundings more."

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time," Lydecker replied, not feeling the need to justify his actions any further than that. "What's he done?"

"Massacred a village."

"What?"

"Walikale -- where the two females were stationed. 494 went in there yesterday to retrieve their bodies and word just got out that he killed more than thirty people."

"You're sure it was 494?"

"One man defeating an army?" Parker said. "You tell me, sir. Although the natives are calling it a demon."

Knowing the sergeant couldn't see him, Lydecker smiled -- just a little bit. Afterall, wasn't this just the kind of thing he'd built and trained his kids for?" But still-- "You're saying you think he's totally out of control? Gone crazy?"

"Crazy, maybe not. But rogue? Yes, sir. Just like 298 during that jungle mission in '18. I tried to talk 494 into taking the Quaalude, but he refused."

Lydecker was quiet ... thinking.

"Your orders, sir?"

"494 has no reason to stay in the jungle unless he thinks Max is still alive," Lydecker said. "If he'd found her body he'd be returning, 'call of the wild' or not. He's got too many ties here in Terminal City to simply abandon his life. He'd carry on for Max, if for no other reason."

"You think he's looking for her then?" Parker said. "A dead girl?"

"494's not stupid, or delusional in spite of the pull of his DNA," the colonel replied into the receiver. "If he's looking for Max, he has some reason to think she's still alive."

"So, you just want to let him go?" the sergeant said, both disbelief and criticism in his voice. "What if he kills more people?"

"I expect he will," Lydecker said grimly. "Afterall, it's what he was designed for."

"Murder?"

"He's an assassin, Parker," Lydecker barked. "Hell, you were there for most of his training. What did you expect from the Unit? That he'd go into that village where they supposedly killed his mate and simply give them a scolding?"

"You knew he'd go postal?" Parker said. "You sent him in there to punish the Mai Mai for killing your kids? God, colonel, he didn't even take the meds--"

"Just keep me informed, Parker," Lydecker said, and before the sergeant could argue hung up the phone.

Logan Cale Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

"Trouble in Manticore mercenary land?" a voice said from the doorway.

"What do you want, Cale?" Lydecker asked, eyes narrowing at the unwelcome intrusion.

"Long time, no see, colonel," Logan replied easily as he walked on into the office and dropped into the single chair, his exoskeleton-encased legs sprawling out in front of him. Dressed in a warm down coat, heavy jeans, and boots, it was evident "Eyes Only" had been on the prowl in the area.

"Do we have business?" the older man said. "I don't seem to recall your name in my appointment book."

"Since when does an old friend need an appointment?"

"Since he tried to murder my kids," Lydecker replied coldly.

"Just one of them," Logan said lightly. "And he deserved it."

"You wanted Max dead, too."

Logan shrugged. "In the heat of the moment, yes," he admitted. "But not any more. I'd settle for simply having her back."

Lydecker snorted. "You expect her to ever love you again? What have you been smoking, Cale?"

"It could happen," Logan said easily, stretching his legs some more, the servos whirring softly. "She loved me once. She could love me again if only--" Pale blue eyes locked onto Lydecker's cold grey ones. "--if only he was out of the way."

Running fingers back through his greying blond hair, the Manticore CEO resisted the urge to laugh out loud. "Ain't gonna happen," he said. "She belongs with 494. He's her natural mate. If you don't believe me just check the genetic data base. There it is, in black and white, a ninety-three percent compatibility. Old Sandeman made her for him."

"He made Max for Ben, not Alec," Logan shot back.

Lydecker shrugged. "Same difference. Hell ... same man in fact, at least on a meat and bone level. Give it up. You'll never separate them now. Believe me, I've tried. Better to just live with it and make the best of what really isn't that bad of a deal. Afterall, I'm expecting a litter from those two some day -- purebred X5 kittens."

"He's gone nuts," Logan said, abruptly changing the subject. "I have sources, too, colonel. Word is he pretty much murdered an entire African village last night -- Walikale I believe the name was. Word also has it that Max is missing."

"You don't know anything," Lydecker said cautiously.

"One man dressed in commando black, superhuman strength and speed, eyes that glow green in the dark, beating odds of thirty to one ... sounds like an X5 to me ... sounds like Alec."

"There are other Units deployed in the world," the colonel said, being cagey and not liking it that Cale knew so much.

"Where is he then?" Logan shot back. "Where's Alec? Where's Max? My source also says two American women were killed in that same village last week, and that Manticore was very interested in their DNA remains. Something about blood proof on an I.D. badge I believe? Sounds to me like 494 went looking for his girlfriend and didn't like what he found. Sounds to me like you've got a rogue X5-Unit on the loose down there, something I'm sure the United Nations Peacekeeping Force would find very interesting, not to mention the Republic of Congo government. Hell, if too much of a stink comes out of this, I wouldn't put it past The Committee to maybe even shut down your precious New Manticore to appease the rest of the world."

"Don't threaten me, Cale," Lydecker warned. "Just because you've got a personal vendetta against the guy you think stole your girl doesn't mean you can manipulate this situation so 494 ends up in a body bag."

"He's not going to stop," Logan said quietly. "Believe me, I know. Alec loves Max just as much as I do, and if it were me, and I knew someone had her and was hurting her ... If I had his abilities ... I wouldn't stop until the whole world was dead."

"Awfully strong words from a man who's supposedly in love with another woman now."

"You mean Asha?" Logan said as he stood up to leave, saying the S1W member's name lightly, as if it meant nothing to him.

"Last I heard, you and the blonde were making beautiful music together."

"That was before she betrayed me for him," Logan said levelly.

"Him?"

A nasty smile. "Let's just say the women in my life lately seem to have the same unfortunate tendency to fall for a certain X5 male."

"You broke up with her because she gave Max the antidote that saved 494's life after you had him poisoned," Lydecker said, understanding now.

Logan's eyebrows rose at the fact the colonel knew about that.

"Max made a full report," Lydecker said. "Just like a good soldier should. Plus, it was my people at the Dakota base who administered the serum."

"He should have died," Logan muttered, a flicker of fanaticism showing for the first time in those blue eyes. "He still should die. If only he was out of the way--"

"And if I could prove what you just confessed ...," Lydecker continued cagily. "If Alec wasn't a transgenic and therefore of little interest to most of humanity or its court system, I'd see you arrested for attempted murder. Check mate, Cale. Threat for threat I've got you cornered. I could still have charges brought ... expose your precious 'Eyes Only' scam ... maybe even send one of my kids to take you out. Need I go on?"

Logan nodded in agreement. "I've found out what I came for anyway."

"That Max is probably still alive? Or that 494 is doing a pretty good imitation of the devil come out of hell?"

"Both," Eyes Only said softly.

Cale closed the door quickly behind himself when he left, but the chill Seattle winter wind still swept through the room like an aftertaste of his visit, and the colonel shivered.

*****

Alec had the awful feeling that he was running out of time. If Max was alive, she was probably hurt, maybe badly, and he had no idea where this Fontane's camp was located. From what the surviving soldiers had all too gladly told him, the bandit was incredibly mobile, moving has base on almost a daily basis. It wouldn't do any good to just go bounding around the jungle looking for the guy.

However, Alec was a soldier -- first and foremost -- and like all well trained soldiers he had a back-up plan.

Standing in a grove of trees on the edge of the awakening jungle about a mile from the village, 494 unzipped the front of his black jumpsuit and shrugged it down to his waist to check the makeshift bandage on his shoulder. The wound was minor, the bleeding already stopped thanks to his enhanced X5 coagulation factors, and it didn't even hurt that much any more.

The cool dawn breeze felt good on his bare chest, caressing his sweaty skin like a lover's fingers. Unfortunately, Alec knew that all too soon the damp air would become an oven of humidity, and then he'd have to be careful. X5s weren't designed for extensive work in hot climates. He'd been knocked down by his metabolism in the heat before (in the desert) and it could happen here as well -- jungle cat DNA in his genome or not. If he started having seizures it would be all over. He wished there was someplace where he could take a quick cold shower -- wash off the blood and the stench of death that was clinging to his clothes and hair.

But there wasn't ...

Twenty minutes later, still bare-chested and with a bandanna tied around his forehead to keep hair and sweat out of his eyes, Alec had moved to on top of a knoll above Walikale where he hoped to God he could get a signal. Taking a deep breath, he thumbed open the front cover of Renoir's satellite cell phone that he'd snatched off of the man's body before taking his leave of the village.

The sound of the carrier wave was music to his transgenic ears.

Pulling up some very old memories, Alec pressed a series of numbers and waited, biting down nervously on his lower lip, praying that New Manticore was still using some of its former international phone links.

"Identify," a female voice said in his ear.

Alec shut his eyes and exhaled with relief. Now he had a chance ... and so did Max.

"331845739494," he said, his voice husky and deep with fatigue. He'd gone almost 48 hours now without sleep, and half that long without food. Alec knew his body could keep functioning for up to four days without rest, but his mind was already beginning to cloud from lack of REM. He'd have to be careful ... grab a catnap if he had a chance. Urgency of the mission or not, pushing himself too far beyond his physical limits would result in mistakes being made ... in failure.

There was dead silence for what seemed like the longest time on the other end of the line. Then the woman's voice was back.

"The line is secure."

"Delta 97 alpha," Alec said, using the code for Lydecker's private cell phone on a carrier that couldn't be hacked into or traced."

"Connecting."

Alec nervously waited another 30 seconds, then he heard ringing. Glancing down at his watch, he realized it was about midnight in Seattle ... 0200 in North Dakota. Either location, he was probably waking the man up.

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

"Lydecker," a gravelly voice answered on the second ring.

"Never create what you can't control, 'Deck," Alec said quietly.

"494?"

"Your favorite bad boy."

"Where are you?"

"On a hill just outside Walikale."

"The village where you massacred an entire squad of soldiers?"

Alec blinked at that, impressed not only that word of his extracurricular activities had spread stateside so quickly, but that his exploits had been embellished.

"You're givin' me too much credit, 'Deck," he said. "Maybe ten ... twelve dead ... another dozen wounded. Hardly a massacre. Besides, they had it comin'. You know as well as I do that some people deserve to die."

"I believe you," Lydecker said quietly, rather to Alec's surprise. "What do you want? Are you wounded? I can have a pick-up at your location within six hours."

Colonel Donald Lydecker Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

"The bleeding's stopped," Alec replied. "But that's not why I'm callin'. I need some information. Max is alive, and I know who has her, but I can't waste a week muckin' around in the jungle lookin' for his camp."

"Max is alive? Are you sure?"

"Yes," Alec lied.

"Who's got her?"

"A bad guy by the name of Kalile Fontane," Alec said, giving the full name he'd shaken out of one of the surviving Walikale soldiers. "He's a Mai Mai bandit who runs the local kidnapping ring. His base is mobile so I need the most recent satellite intel to find it." Alec squinted up at the rising sun. "Can you tap into Manticore's bird for me and take a look around this corner of the Congo?"

"Give me a minute," Lydecker said, and Alec's keen hearing picked up the sound of keyboard tapping.

"The Manticore satellite isn't in range," Lydecker said a moment later, "but I've back-doored into one of the NSA's spy cams." Another quiet minute. Then ... "You're on that hill to the north, correct? Look east, toward that higher range. There's activity at the base of the tallest mountain ... could be some kind of military camp setting up. They must have been traveling at night to avoid detection."

"How far?" Alec asked, squinting in the brightening sunlight as his eyes zoomed in on distant hills that were still in shadow.

"Twenty klicks," Lydecker said. "But the road from where you are follows the river and doesn't cross for at least ten miles. It would be a lot quicker to go straight through the jungle and take the swim."

"No problem."

"You said you were bleeding."

"Just a scrape."

"Your--"

"Everything's under control."

"I can't give you any backup, son. If you're caught, you know what's gonna happen."

"I know."

"Go get her then. Bring our girl home."

"Count on it," Alec said softly as he cut off the connection and looked once more to the east.

*****

"You've gotta be kidding me," Alec panted as he wiped sweat out of his eyes with a sleeve and pulled off the soaked headband. In addition to steaming like an overdone side of beef, his boots were full of river water, he'd been bitten about 20 times by stinging insects, and for some reason he had stomach cramps. However, his physical condition wasn't what had him worried.

Getting Max out of Fontane's camp was going to be a problem ... a really big problem.

Crouched behind a Jeep parked on the edge of the clearing, the X5 caught his breath while peering out at a military operation far more organized than anything he'd yet seen in the Congo. The 20 mile run from Walikale had taken him less than an hour, even though he'd been slowed somewhat by the thick jungle growth and a shallow quarter mile wide river he'd more-or-less waded across. But now that he was here, it seemed he'd reached an impasse.

Frowning through narrowed eyes, Alec assessed the situation, and the more he looked, the less he liked what he saw. There were easily more than a thousand soldiers here, and over a hundred tents. Well equipped with vehicles, weapons, and supplies, this Kalile Fontane was obviously very successful at the kidnap-for-ransom-game.

One man ... one soldier, even an X5, would be committing suicide going up against these odds. Even if he could sneak in and find Max, chances were she was injured which meant exiting would be beyond difficult. Heroically carrying the damsel in distress out of danger in one's arms might be the stuff of romance novels, but in real life that kind of bravado only got men killed.

"Too bad I'm not Bruce Willis," Alec muttered to himself. "Talk about a 'Die Hard' scenario ..."

However, there was more to this X5 than Manticore. "494" was a supersoldier, but "Alec" was a businessman. If Fontane had kidnapped Max hoping for ransom, then that meant there was a deal to be made here -- and next to soldiering, deals were what Terminal City's alderman did best.

He had a plan.

Leaving the P90, Glock pistol, and radio phone on the ground behind the Jeep, Alec stood up, wiped his hands on his jump suit, then proceeded to walk brazenly down the shale slope toward the edge of the bandit's camp, his considerable ego leading the way.

Fontane's Camp

As expected, he didn't make it ten feet inside the perimeter before being surrounded by half a dozen armed men with rifles pointed at his chest.

"Whoa! Hey, guys," Alec said easily in English, putting on a disarming smile as he raised hands in the air. "Is Kalile around? I've got some business to discuss with him."

"A genoux, chien Americain!" (On your knees American dog!)

Not resisting, Alec winged arms behind his head as he sank to his knees in the dirt. Then he waited patiently while his captors roughly searched him, confiscating the knife he was wearing at his belt. However, when one of the soldiers cocked a pistol and pressed the barrel against the middle of his forehead, Alec decided the time for mute compliance was at an end.

"Un million de dollars -- Americains." (A million dollars -- American.)

"Que?" (What?)

"I'll pay a million dollars for the girl," Alec repeated in English, raising his voice.

A soldier who's uniform pegged him as higher rank than the bozos holding him at gunpoint came out of the surrounding crowd. Silently, he gestured to the men and Alec was yanked to his feet.

So far, so good, the X5 thought.

*****

Kalile Fontane

The head honcho's tent was slightly larger than the others in the camp. Carpeted and furnished with some rather expensive looking antiques, its centerpiece was a large round bed -- occupied at the moment by a big muscular black man butt-fucking a slender dark skinned young woman. Both were completely nude.

Somehow Alec managed to not stare, but the X-rated show with its accompanying grunts and other sexual sound effects continued on for several minutes after he'd been escorted into the tent, and after awhile it became embarrassing.

"You've come to buy the American bitch," Fontane said at last, still thrusting into the frightened looking girl who Alec could now see was probably all of maybe 14 years old.

"I've come to pay the ransom," Alec replied easily, although the sight he was being forced to watch had his teeth on edge. However, if Fontane hoped to shock him into some kind of submissive position -- no pun intended -- he was going to be disappointed. The X5 had seen far worse in his time.

"A million dollars is a lot of money," Fontane said, dismounting at last from the girl and giving her naked bottom a slap. With tears in her eyes, she covered herself with a sheet. Climbing off the bed he stood in front of his visitor, not at all concerned about his nudity or still aroused condition as one of his men -- a valet-type from the looks of his servant's uniform -- handed his boss a black silk robe.

Alec glanced down -- and smiled. "I see you're really excited about this deal."

Fontane's face split into a huge grin. "You're a very pretty boy," his bass voice rumbled. "Maybe you'd like to experience just how excited I am." He gestured toward the bed.

"I'm here to deal for the hostage, not get laid," Alec said, steering the conversation back on track.

"Maybe you're here to do both," Fontane countered.

"I don't mix business with pleasure."

"I do. I like the look of your ass."

"Why don't we make it two million for the girl and we'll leave my ass out of it."

"The price is five million, and I already have a buyer."

Alec's heart skipped a beat. "Who?"

"Le Rouge."

The Reds. The X5's mind raced. This was a complication he hadn't expected. Renoir had known what Jondy and Max were, but the fact this bandit would be looking for the highest bidder on an X5 hadn't occurred to Alec -- and it should have.

"I'll double the price," Alec said automatically. He glanced around the tent. "Provided you let me see her and I know she's all right."

"She's not all right," Fontane said, sounding way too happy about it. "But she's alive, and that's all that matters to my South African friends."

Alec's gut clenched. "And I just told you I'll pay ten million, but I want to see her."

"Ten million and your ass?" the black man shot back.

"Whatever it takes," Alec said, not wanting to waste time on trivialities right now when Max was obviously in so much trouble. "But only after I see her."

"And I suppose you have ten million dollars in your pocket?" the bandit said.

"Of course not. Do I look like I rode the short bus? You think I'd bring that kind of money here without a deal in place? Besides, I'll need a little time to get it."

"My South African friends will be here in three days," Fontane said.

Three days! Alec's head was spinning now.

"No problem," he said, as an outrageous idea began to form in his mind.

"No problem, indeed," Fontane chuckled. He signaled to his waiting men and Alec once again found himself held at gunpoint. "You see, I had my ten million the moment you walked into my camp, Manticore boy. Maybe even more because you're a lot healthier than the bitch -- not damaged."

The bastard's been playing me since jump, Alec chided himself. However, even though he'd lost the upper hand, he still had his wits, not to mention that persuasive personality Manticore had tossed into his cocktail along with the cat.

"You'll sell me to the Reds too?"

"X5s are a very in-demand item on the world's arms market right now," Fontane said. "Your kind are a rare and valuable commodity." He turned to the man who'd escorted Alec into the tent, a second-in-command probably. "Radio Hans and tell him I've got a second transgenic for him -- a male -- and to bring double the money if he wants this one as well."

"Manticore will never let the deal go down," Alec tried. "They already know my position, and that you have the female. They'll incinerate this camp and everyone in it to keep us out of enemy hands."

"They'd have done that already if they were going to," Fontane said, calling the bluff. "I know Manticore will never pay ransom money for you and the bitch. It's not their policy, and it's why we didn't even bother contacting them. Once, they might have had the power to destroy me, but right now I'm betting sending in a lone soldier like you was the only card they were willing to play." He grinned. "How does it feel to be expendable?"

Alec knew he could kill this motherfucker easily right now, take down the surrounding soldiers, and probably get away from the camp. However, none of that would help Max.

Fontane raised his hand, preparing to signal his soldiers, and Alec tensed. But then suddenly he had another idea.

"Vous savez, vous etes beaucoup plus stupide que je pensais que vous seriez," he said. (You know, you're a lot more stupid than I thought you'd be.)

The bandit raised a dark eyebrow. "Stupide?"

"To hand over such an advanced bio weapons system to your enemy."

Fontane stared at him.

"You know damn well the Reds are gonna use Max and me to create an army of supersoldiers. And then what? How long before your country becomes their target? Do you really want your children and grandchildren going up against X5s? Why not at least keep us for yourself?"

"I have no interest in using such unnatural techniques to win my wars," Fontane said. "Your kind are filthy creatures with bastardized DNA ... tainted ... animal."

"Whatever," Alec shrugged. "Point is, you don't want me and mine breedin' an arsenal for the Reds. So why not take me up on my deal? I can get ten million for you, easy. No harm, no foul."

"Where would you get that kind of money, freak? Manticore?"

"Yes," Alec lied.

"They don't pay ransoms."

"They will if it means getting X5s back intact. They're better financed than you think. As you said, we're a dying species and they need us for breeding. "

"Breeding an army of supersoldiers for the United States?" Fontane countered.

"Hey, it's not like Uncle Sam wants to conquer the Democratic Republic of Congo anytime soon is it?"

Alec knew he was basically chattering, saying anything at this point to talk his way out of a huge mess. On the other hand, rather to his surprise, it seemed to be working.

The bandit was looking at him with a speculative gleam in his harsh brown eyes.

"But I want to see the girl first," Alec pressed. "I wanna see Max." Before he could stop himself, his eyes went to Fontane's sex toy still lying huddled on the bed.

"Max you call her?" Fontane said. "Is that her name? She wouldn't tell me. All I had was her bar code number." A moment of silence, then ... "You're wondering if I raped your bitch, aren't you?"

"There's no wondering about it," Alec replied quietly, the words -- now said out loud -- hurting his heart and making him want to rip this bastard apart with his bare hands.

Fontane smiled again. Climbing back into the bed, he disrobed, grabbed hold of the female, and mounted again, picking up where he'd left off. "Je n'ai pas fini," he growled as she tried to squirm away. (I'm not done.) And, to his officer -- "Emmenez-le voir la garce." (Take him to the bitch.)

"Then we have a deal?" Alec shouted as he was being dragged out of the tent.

But all he got from the bandit was another loud laugh.

*****

Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

Max whimpered, lost in that realm halfway between sleep and unconsciousness, her dreams worse than Manticore nightmares.

A proud X5 soldier ... self assured ... certain of her own fierce abilities ... never before defeated ... not by Manticore ... not by Ames White ...

When the Mai Mai had overrun Walikale that horrible bloody morning ... when over a hundred soldiers had cornered her and Jondy in the medical clinic ... when she'd just begun to fight for her life only to be struck down from behind by a blow to the head with a rifle butt ...

Mercifully, the memories seemed to vanish there.

She'd awakened in a cage inside a tent, naked, lying on dirty straw. There was a thin blanket, which she pulled up to shield herself from the prurient eyes of the guards, and a cup of water that she gulped. Food was brought as well -- some kind of meat in a salty broth.

However, no one would answer her questions or tell her where she was, and she was so dizzy she couldn't even manage to stand, let alone try and escape.

And then it began ... her body's betrayal ... the seizures that were always waiting in the wings to bring her to her knees whenever she was weak. That had been two days ago. Now, all she could do was lie curled on her side as she shook, the episodes getting closer and closer together as her brain's serotonin levels plunged.

"She's sick," a guard's voice said in English, the sound barely penetrating the fog surrounding Max's mind. "She shakes all the time, and she's got a fever. Malaria probably."

"It's not malaria," a second voice said, one that sounded wonderfully familiar although Max knew it was just an auditory hallucination. "I can help her. Let me in the cage."

"Fontane said you could see the bitch," the guard snapped. "He never said anything about you touching the merchandise."

"Let me go to her!" the new voice roared.

"Alec!" Max cried out, turning over and trying to focus her eyes.

"Max!"

And there he was, the big jerk ... her lover ... her knight in shining armor ... Alec ... The incredible idiot had gone and gotten himself captured by these people too, she thought with a touch of hysteria.

"Alec," she croaked. "Run! They'll hurt you to! Get away!"

"Max," Alec breathed, on his knees now, his fingers hooked in the wire mesh of the cage. He looked back over his shoulder at the guard, hazel-green eyes ablaze. "Let me be with her! She's sick and hurt! She needs medical attention!"

"She'll live long enough," the guard replied coolly. He was a young black man about Alec's age but with far more cruelty in his obsidian eyes than any X5 that Max had ever seen.

Fontane's second in command, one of the few people Max recognized, stepped through the tent flap, the harsh glare of sunlight piercing the dark interior and hurting her eyes. "You've seen your bitch. Now bring the money."

Alec fumbled in a pocket of his combat suit, coming up with a bottle of pills. "At least give her these," he pleaded. "It'll help ... give her a chance."

"What is it?" the officer asked, suspicious but accepting the medication.

"Tryptophan," Alec said. "Our kind need it to prevent seizures. If any of you had done your homework on X5s you'd know."

The officer popped open the bottle, sniffed the contents, then glanced at the guard who shrugged. "It's not dope," he said. "Or cyanide." "What the hell. If it keeps her alive ..."

He shoved the bottle through the meal slot in the cage door where it landed on the floor and rolled to within a few feet of Max, the white tablets spilling out into the moldy straw.

Raising pain-filled eyes to her transgenic brother, 452 ignored the medicine, instead whispering, "Go, Alec. Go and don't come back. They'll take you too. Leave me. You've got to get out of here."

"Never," he said, the single word deep and full of conviction. "I'm comin' back for you, Maxie. Just hold on a couple more days and I'll have you free and clear."

"Come on!" the guard said, grabbing hold of Alec's shoulder and pulling him to his feet. The X5 instinctively drew back a fist, but with obvious effort stopped himself from throwing the punch, instead settling for shrugging away and shooting the boy a dirty look.

"Get your hands off me," Alec snapped. "I'm goin'." To Max, "Take the pills, Maxie. Take the pills." He watched until she reached out a shaking hand to pick up several of the tablets from off the floor.

Only then did Alec finally let himself be escorted out of the tent.

Max slept after that -- for a long time -- her feverish nightmares replaced by sweet dreams of a hagard handsome hero.

*****

He was on a clock that was running down, and Alec knew it. If he didn't get back to Fontane with 10 million dollars before the Reds, he'd end up having to rescue Max from a lot worse place than a Congolese bandit's camp.

Transportation to Kinshasa was easy. He simply stole the Jeep on the edge of the camp -- where he'd left his guns and the radio/phone. Luck was with him in the capital city. There was a flight out to South Africa within two hours of his arrival at the airport, but it cost him the last of his money to buy the ticket.

Four hours later and he was disembarking in the Johannesburg International Airport terminal -- broke and with nothing more than the clothes on his back -- all too aware that almost a day had now passed. However, at least he'd been able to sleep a few hours on the flight, giving his X5 physiology a much needed boost.

Time now to put his real plan into action.

Sgt. Henry Parker Photo courtesy of Eyes Only

Sergeant Henry Parker gaped in astonishment when the X5-Unit burst into his office, the door jam splintering as the transgenic broke it with his shoulder, not bothering with the knob. Outside, in the waiting area, he could see his aide slumped over his desk, knocked out or perhaps even dead.

"494!" Parker barked, his voice not quite achieving the authoritative tone he was striving for as he set what was left of his spilled coffee aside with a shaking hand. "What the hell do you think you're doing? And how did you find this office?"

Alec smiled. All of his life ... even as a small child ... whenever he'd been in the presence of this tool he'd also been under armed guard. Now, it was just him and the sarge. As for finding the location ... Piece of cake. Manticore was a creature of habit. He'd remembered the substation's coordinates from his last time in Africa. In fact, he'd once stood in this very office receiving orders to move in on a Hutu base the CIA wanted taken out.

"I never hurt you," Parker said tightly, apparently reading something in the X5's eyes. Standing up, he backed against a bookcase. "I protected you in fact. My reports were always mostly favorable. The Berrisford girl wasn't my fault. Those were Sandoval's orders, and he got his from Lydecker. Go after the colonel if you want revenge--"

"Stop yapping," Alec ordered. "If I'd wanted to kill you for that I'd have done it a long time ago." He moved behind the desk to Parker's computer terminal.

"What do you want then?"

"Information," Alec replied, as he tapped the keyboard. He glanced up. "Password?"

"Those are classified documents about ongoing missions," Parker said. "I can't--"

"Max's life depends on it."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to."

"I need to clear this with Lydecker."

"No, you don't," Alec said easily, his tone deceptively friendly now as he still worked at the keyboard. He'd found the file he wanted, but it was locked. "It's just you and me in this room, Parker." He looked up and winked at the sergeant. "No one needs to know." He paused for effect. "--or get hurt."

"What are you looking for?" the sergeant asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

"Your Reds operation," Alec said. "You told me there was a big money transfer goin' down tonight. I want the exact when and where."

"What on Earth for?"

"Let's just say I'm in need of cash," Alec said. "The password?" He didn't bother looking at the man this time.

"Lydecker will have my head."

"And I'll have it if you don't give it to me. I'm on a bit of a schedule here, Parker. I don't have time to mess around. Max's life depends on this."

"Max's life? You mean she's alive?"

"For now. But I need to buy her back, and for that I need Benjamins ... lots of them."

"And you think you can steal it from the Reds?" Parker said, beyond astonished. "494, you can't--"

"Oh, but I can."

"We've been setting up this observation for over a year," the sergeant tried. "If you bust into the middle of things we'll lose all of our intel ... all of our contacts. We'll have to start all over again with our Reds surveillance."

"You think I give a shit?"

"You should!" Parker practically wailed. "We're trying to keep your kind out of enemy hands."

"They'll have Max if I don't do this!" Alec shouted right back.

"No, they won't!" Parker yelled.

Alec was on that, cat quick. "What are you talkin' about?"

"We know about the deal for Max," Parker said. "Only we didn't know for sure until now that it was 452 the Reds were buying."

"You mean you were gonna snatch her back from the Reds?" Alec said, wondering if maybe he'd just gone to a lot of trouble for nothing.

"Not exactly."

And then he understood. A grim nod. "You were gonna move in and destroy her when the Reds took possession. It would be too difficult to stage a rescue, but a cleansing would be easy, probably a napalm air strike. Meanwhile, you'd have gotten a good look at the competition's money supply line."

Parker said nothing. The X5 had it in one.

Alec when he's got someone by the throat Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

And then suddenly 494's hand was a vice around the sergeant's neck.

"The password," Alec growled in his face.

"If you kill me you'll never get the intel," the sergeant tried.

Alec reached down and broke the man's right index finger.

Parker screamed.

"I'll do more than kill you if I have to," the X5 said intimately in his victim's ear.

"You're not like that," Parker whimpered. "You never were. You don't have the killer instinct. It says so in your file. You won't murder in cold blood. That used to drive Lydecker nuts ... that about you ..."

The sergeant was starting to babble.

"Just tell me the time and place," Alec cajoled, switching tactics. "And I'll stay out of your precious files." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It'll just be between you and me. Lydecker doesn't hafta know."

"He'll know," Parker whined.

"I'll tell him Fontane told me," Alec said. "I'll take full responsibility. And in the meantime--"

He broke Parker's thumb and the sergeant shrieked even louder than the first time.

"--you get to keep your other digits intact. And believe me, you don't wanna know where I'm gonna go when I run out of fingers."

The sergeant -- not a man of Lydecker's fortitude -- closed his eyes and moaned softly. "An alley off of third street ... downtown ... eleven hundred tonight ... under the bridge."

Looking at a wall, Alec pictured the layout of Johannesburg he'd memorized from a map while on the plane.

"Which means they'll be comin' off of Wierda Road?"

Parker nodded -- and Alec let him go.

"See," the X5 said brightly. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The sergeant glared as he gingerly rubbed his neck. "You want those pills now?" he rasped, having trouble speaking. "Seems to me maybe you need them. Afterall, you've already massacred a whole village. God knows what you'll do for an encore. Take out half of Johannesburg maybe?"

"Why sarge," Alec tossed back over his shoulder as he moved to a panel in the wall, his voice conveying mock hurt. "You're gonna give yourself ulcers frettin' so much about me." He pressed a hidden lever, and watched as a door swung open to reveal an arsenal of weapons. "Not to worry," he said quietly as he lifted down a bazooka. "I'll be the X5 poster boy for discretion. Promise."

*****

Luck was with 494. Wierda Road, normally a fairly well-travelled thoroughfare, had been partially blocked off due to nearby construction and was empty of traffic that night.

Alec had only been waiting for a few minutes when he saw a large black Lincoln town car turn the corner and head down the street toward his hidden position. He couldn't be one hundred percent certain -- and that part of his plan really sucked -- but the X5 figured this had to be the South Africans on their way to the rendezvous point with Fontane's representative under the nearby bridge, a meeting they weren't going to make. The way it was probably supposed to work, Alec figured, was for part of the cash to be delivered tonight, and the rest when the Reds went to the bandit's camp to pick up Max.

When the car was about a hundred yards away, he stepped out of the shadows and into the middle of the street, standing with hands hanging loosely at his sides, blocking their way. Even though the area was poorly lit, he had no trouble seeing the expression on the blond driver's face as the man assessed the unusual situation. Was this a hitchhiker? An enemy? A male prostitute looking for a john? Maybe a drunk or a junkie?

To further the confusion, Alec smiled his most friendly smile, doing his best to look unthreatening, and hoping the driver wasn't simply going to floor the engine and run him down. He needed them to get just a little bit closer -- but not too close.

The car did slow, the driver speaking to a large man seated beside him. Alec calculated the speed and distance in his head ... waited ... waited ... reached into the messenger bag hanging over his right shoulder--

--and pulled out a flare gun. Then, taking up a marksman's stance, the X5 carefully aimed at the car's radiator grill and (with an even bigger smile) squeezed the trigger.

The driver's eyes widened with horror, his mouth forming a silent "fuck!" as the mini-rocket streaked toward him and impacted on the front end of the Lincoln. Exploding in a shower of sparks and eyeball searing flames, the flare's detonation was far less than a bomb, but enough to bring the town car to a crashing halt, lifting the wheels of the vehicle several inches off the ground and setting the engine compartment on fire.

Alec sprinted forward as the two men tumbled out of the now blazing car. The driver, coughing violently, ran into an alley to the right. However, the courier -- his clothes and hair on fire -- fell to his knees on the pavement.

The X5 knew he had to move fast, before the police came. However, there was a problem.

"Shit!" Alec shouted as he sprinted forward hoping to collect his prize, only to see the courier -- a human torch now -- rise to his feet. With a horrible grin on his blistering face, the fire-encased Red soldier lurched forward, reaching for the lithe young man who'd had the audacity to interfere with his mission.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Alec cursed as, eyes watering from the heat and smoke, he dodged those blistering hands and wondered how anyone -- Red, X5, or human -- could continue to function when encased in flames.

However, even worse than his immediate predicament was the fact that seeing the damage up close ... smelling the burning flesh ... was bringing flashes of Manticore to Alec's mind -- the weeks during his childhood he'd spent as a guinea pig for the medical researchers ... his own pain ... his own fear ... fire ...

It was a mental distraction he didn't need right now.

Shaking his head to clear it, Alec still felt the stirrings of panic in his gut.

Unlike X5s, Red soldiers with their neural implants felt no pain, and adrenalin was keeping this barbecuing carcass on its feet far longer than seemed possible. Alec knew he had to be careful. Even damaged so badly, in a hand-to-hand situation there was a fair chance this man could beat him. But surely the courier had to collapse soon. The guy's flesh was actually starting to peel from his facial bones ...

His handsome features contorted with disgust, Alec began to feel sick on his stomach as the stench increased and the heat of crackling flames whipped his face. But still the soldier remained upright ...

This was taking way too long.

Seeing no alternative, Alec drew the Glock pistol he'd taken from the Manticore substation. Time to finish the job and put the guy out of his misery, even if the sound of a gunshot did bring the local police sooner than a car crash. However, before he could fire, he heard approaching sirens, and a ripple of a different kind of fear raced down the X5's spine.

"Go down, damn it!" Alec screamed, out of time now. He fired once into the man's chest, and then (just for good measure) let loose with a spinning crescent kick that caught the blazing Red soldier on the side of the head. The impact of his boot with flesh and bone could be heard even above the crackle of flames engulfing what was left of the Town car.

But it was the soldier's bellow of rage that nearly deafened the X5 as he still refused fall. And then suddenly Alec felt hot fingers gripping his gun arm and he was being pulled toward the fire.

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

Eyes watering more now, the intense heat making it impossible to breathe, the young transgenic struggled to break free from that horrible grip. However, the dying Red was determined to take this impudent enemy down with him as he burned -- the enhanced adrenalin surging through his big body more than enough to accomplish the task in spite of a bullet in his lung.

The creature's other hand closed on Alec's throat, and the X5 felt the skin of his own left hand blistering. Superheated, the Glock dropped to the ground. The pain was horrific, bringing back some of the most gruesome memories of his childhood -- memories he'd long ago buried but had never really died.

With gritted teeth, 494 clawed at the only weapon he still had -- the flare gun tucked in the belt of his jumpsuit -- unable to draw it, but hooking a finger in the trigger.

There was one round left -- chambered.

The explosive charge ripped like a small bomb between the two soldiers, throwing the Red in one direction and the X5 in the other. Propelled backwards off his feet, Alec slammed hard into concrete while blood and guts from the 6-inch hole in the other man's torso rained down around him.

Dazed ... barely conscious ... Alec could hear the sirens growing louder above the ringing in his ears as he sat slumped against a cement wall. Knowing he had only seconds now, he called upon every remaining ounce of his strength to move. Crawling on his hands and knees across the pavement, he reached the putrid pile of still burning flesh that had been the Red courier and began searching the burned remnants of the soldier's clothes, praying he hadn't destroyed the very thing he'd just gone through so much trouble to acquire.

The man should have the money on him in one form or another. Ten million dollars in krugerands would be way too heavy to carry, as would American cash, which meant it was probably in bearer bonds, hopefully in a flame proof pouch of some kind.

The sirens were right around the corner now. Alec could see strobing red, blue, and white lights out of the corner of his eye.

"Where is it?" he whispered, even as he began to cough, his throat coated with soot. And then suddenly ... there it was -- a case of some kind concealed in an inner pocket of the Red Soldier's charred leather jacket. Grabbing it up -- trusting to luck that it was what he needed -- the X5 scrambled shakily to his feet and headed off at a staggering lope, disappearing around the corner as flashlight beams crisscrossed the night behind him.

*****

Photo courtesy of Jensen Ackles Museum

Fourteen hours later Alec threw the bearer bonds down on the floor at Kalile Fontane's feet. "Ten million," he said. "Delivered. Now give me Max."

The bandit smiled cheekily and motioned to one of his men to pick up the documents. Wearing a blue silk robe instead of the black one today, he at least was covering his privates this time around. Glancing over the bonds, ascertaining their authenticity, he nodded.

"You look a bit worse for wear, my friend," Fontane said, indicating Alec's beyond-disheveled appearance. "When was the last time you ate ... or slept? And have you been playing with fire?"

Alec shifted on his feet, well aware that he must look like shit. He hadn't shaved while on this continent, the burn on his hand hadn't been treated (the pain of the wound making it impossible to sleep on the plane flight back to Kinshasa), his clothes were filthy, and his head was pounding with the beginnings of a migraine. At least he wasn't having seizures ... yet.

"Ah," Fontane continued. "But then I forget. In spite of your pretty-boy appearance you're an X5. Your body can take quite a beating and still function ... just like hers."

Alec tensed. "You have your money," he repeated. "Give me my sister."

"Your sister?" Fontane said, an eyebrow arching. Turning his back on Alec, he moved to a comfortable chair and sat down, crossing his bare legs as nonchalantly as if this conversation was the most trivial of matters to him. Holding them up to the light, he studied the bearer bonds again. "These were issued in Johannesburg," he commented. "Which probably explains my other visitors' outrage."

"Other visitors?" Alec said, glancing around the large tent.

He heard something at his back, and turned.

Two large men stepped through the tent flap. Dressed in soldier gear, their faces devoid of emotion, their big bodies were sculpted in massive muscles that made the X5's own lighter physique appear almost boyish. Alec knew in an instant that he and Max had been betrayed.

"My South African friends are a bit upset," Fontane said. "You see, they claim that you stole these bonds from them."

"Possession is nine tenths of the law," Alec quipped. "Hey, I'm the one who brought the goods. Where or how I got the cash doesn't matter. We have a deal."

However, the X5 watched warily as the two soldiers slowly separated, moving to either side of him. The young transgenic knew he wasn't in any kind of shape for a battle, especially not against Reds. Exhausted beyond tired, crippled, in pain, he hadn't even eaten in the past 48 hours. And Fontane's goons had taken away all of his weapons when he entered the camp. His eyes moved to the bandit's men, then to the submachine guns they were cradling.

"You have your pair," Fontane suddenly said coldly, speaking to the soldiers. "Take him. The female is already caged and ready for transport."

--and before he could act, half a dozen guns rose to point at Alec.

"We had a deal!" Alec shouted, looking wildly around the room for a way out. "Damn it! We had a deal!"

"And their deal trumps yours, I'm afraid," Fontane said in a chilling voice. He snapped his fingers and a slender young black man wearing a medic's smock stepped forward holding a hypodermic needle. "Sedate him," the bandit ordered, pointing to his transgenic guest.

Aware that an X5 wouldn't go down quietly, the two Red soldiers, their faces still totally impassive, moved in. Alec knew that if they got their hands on him it was all over. He could never fight two of them off at once. Which left just one option.

In an inhuman blur of motion, the X5 moved, performing an astonishing back flip from a dead standstill that took him halfway across the tent to land directly in front of one of Fontane's guards. The startled man began to raise his weapon, only to have the machine gun torn from his hands by the transgenic. Whirling, Alec brought the barrel up, and without aiming let loose with a burst of bullets that tore across the tent, sending everyone scrambling for cover.

With grim satisfaction, the X5 watched as half a dozen shots slammed into each of the Red soldiers. "Eat shit, you cock sucking motherfuckers," he spat, the extreme profanity that Max frowned on him using (especially around Joshua) feeling inanely good as he uttered it.

However, neither one of the huge men fell.

Alec's eyes widened as they brushed slugs off of their bullet proof vests. Glancing at his weapon, he pulled the trigger again -- only to have it click on empty -- the second time that had happened to him during this little adventure.

Tossing the now useless gun aside, Alec began to circle, having only his transgenic body and Manticore training to rely on now. Outside he could hear running feet as Fontane's army -- probably all of it -- converged on the tent.

The first Red charged, arms wide, attempting to catch the X5 in a crushing bear hug. Alec easily danced aside, looking for an opening. The soldier was massive ... strong ... but he wasn't nearly as quick as his feline enhanced-prey.

Out of the corner of his eye the X5 saw one of Fontane's men climb to his feet and take aim with a hand gun.

"Don't!" the bandit leader called out. "He's to be taken alive!"

Most hand-to-hand fights lasted less than 10 seconds. Alec saw an opportunity, and his fist lashed out. Putting every ounce of his considerable strength behind the blow, he felt something splinter as he made contact -- the Red soldier's face ... and also, unfortunately, the bones of his own hand.

Crying out with pain, Alec cradled his injury, cursing himself for doing something so stupid -- and totally missed seeing the return blow coming his way.

A regular human would have been killed by the strike the Red soldier landed on the side of Alec's head. As it was, the X5 saw sparks and stumbled backwards, nearly falling, as his brain rocked inside his skull.

One hand burned, the other broken, and now concussed -- not the best of shape to be in. But Alec still had his feet. Regaining his equilibrium, he stepped out and, twisting his hips, let loose with a reverse side kick that slammed home into the Red's gut, caving in ribs. The soldier doubled over, and began to cough, blood pouring from his mouth. A follow-up crescent kick to the head knocked the South African to the ground, and Alec whirled, looking for the other, only to feel a a vise wrap around his midsection from behind and lift him off the ground.

His own arms pinned ... useless ... he kicked backwards, the heel of his boot contacting a shin. But the Red soldier could feel no pain, and the blow wasn't quite hard enough to break the leg.

Alec knew he was in bad trouble even before his captor began to squeeze. His vision clouding, unable to breathe, ribs creaking, he saw the medic scurrying forward with the needle. "No!" he screamed, thrashing in the strangling grip. One of his feet touched the floor -- and it was all he needed. With leverage at last, he bent forward and ducked down, throwing the Red over his shoulder and directly into Fontane's doctor.

Which is when luck finally decided to return to the X5. The hypodermic needle plunged into the South African, injecting a massive dose of Halidol meant for the transgenic. Not enough to knock out the adrenalin-loaded Red, it was still enough to slow him down -- which was all Alec needed.

Going aerial again, Alec made a spectacular leap and caught the soldier in the gut with a reverse heel kick followed instantly by another crescent kick to the head. A second spinning maneuver then brought him around 360 degrees so his boot crashed into the Red's vulnerable throat.

Eyes bulging ... clawing at his neck ... his trachea crushed ... suffocating ... the South African gurgled and wheezed as he sank to his knees.

Hardly daring to believe he'd just beaten two Red soldiers, Alec stood panting heavily--

--and suddenly felt the cold barrel of a gun pressing into the back of his neck.

"You're too dangerous to keep alive," Fontane said, his voice rather mild considering the carnage that had just gone down in the tent.

"I'm not worth anything to you dead," Alec countered, looking up to see at least 12 more guns pointed at him.

"Get on your knees."

Slowly, Alec complied, trembling slightly as he got down one knee at a time, his own adrenalin overload taking its toll.

"They don't want a dead X5," he reminded his host.

"They'll have the girl," Fontane replied with a shrug. "And as for you .