3.01.01 Labyrinth

[virtualda]

episode: Virtual Dark Angel episode 3.01
season: Virtual Dark Angel season 3



LABYRINTH by Moonshadow and Star24

Now that Manticore has been outed to the world, the very survival of Max’s friends and family depends on her leadership. Can Max find her way as her enemies close in and her closest friends and allies begin to doubt her?





PROLOGUE

Rooftop, Terminal City

Max and Logan stood side by side, hands clasped.

There was a long, emotional pause as several hundred transgenics stood with them to watch their flag flying from the highest place in Terminal City. Then, as if in response to some silent signal, they cheered in unison, a huge roaring shout that shook the roof.

The police and National Guard troops surrounding the area turned, some curious and some fearful, to see what was happening. For thirty seconds or so the roar filled the early-morning air. Then, slowly, it faded. Warily, the soldiers turned their attention back to the streets where they stood, and to the smell of breakfast coming from the mess tents.

Above, transgenics embraced, high-fived, and laughed as they headed for the two fire stairwells that led back down into the main building. There were so many of them it took nearly twenty minutes for the roof to clear. A Freak Nation.

As the last footsteps faded away, Logan turned to Max. His eyes were shining, but her face was sober. Still holding tightly to her hand, he asked gently, "Second thoughts?"

Without taking her eyes from the flag, Max shook her head. "Nope. You?"

"No." They stood watching the flag for a moment longer. Then Max sighed.

"Um, I'd better get back now," she said, gesturing at the nearest door and trying to walk away. Logan didn't let go of her hand. She stopped. "Hey."

"What?"

Max pointed to their clasped hands. "I need my hand back."

He smiled. "They can wait a minute." With his other hand, gloved in white latex, he stroked the black leather covering her fingers. "We've got a lot to make up for, now that we've finally figured out how to hold hands without me keeling over on you. And without you running away on me." He said the last with a smile in his voice.

Max looked up into his eyes and smiled back. "It's just that I've been so busy…"
He gave her a mischievous look. "Funny about being busy. What goes around comes around, I guess."

The door to the fire stairs banged open. "Hey, Max!" shouted Dalton, the boy they had brought with them three days ago from the Jam Pony hostage crisis. "Mole wants you for something."

"Be right there," Max called back. After the door banged shut, she released her grip on Logan's hand. "Gotta go," she apologized.

He held her back once more. "Yeah. One more thing?"

"Sure."

"I'm glad you had second thoughts about Alec. It's none of my business why," he added quickly, seeing an alarmed look in her eyes. "But since the other night, when you told me he wasn't part of your life any more, I've started feeling like maybe anything's possible. A cure for this virus. Maybe even…us."

Max remembered their anniversary. Champagne in the glasses, bubbly in the warm lamplight. Logan's face with the same hopeful, yearning look it had right now. She remembered turning away from him, leaning her face against the cool window glass, telling him her secret. "You have nothing to be sorry for or ashamed of," he told her...

On the cold Terminal City roof, Max took a deep breath. "Logan, I need to tell you something."
"What?"

"There…there was no Alec. We were never together. I let you think that so you would stay away. I couldn't risk hurting you again. Maybe killing you." She looked up at him then, apprehensive. "I'm sorry, I…"

Now it was Logan's turn to pull away. He released her hand. "You lied to me?"
"It wasn't a lie."

"It wasn't the truth." Logan shook his head, disbelieving. "You let me think…What else have you been letting me think? That you plan on sticking around? That you've got my back? That if this transfusion wears off, it won't be about me being able to walk?"
"Don't be a jerk. I didn't plan it. When you thought we were together, I let you. To protect you," Max said fiercely.

"No. To protect yourself, Max. Because that's all it's been about ever since you got back. You."
"That's not fair. Manticore gave me this virus…"

"Oh yeah. Blame Manticore. Blame anyone but yourself."

"Explain something to me. What part of 'If I touch you, you'll die' don't you understand?"

"The part where that gives you the right to walk out on me. Deceive me. Sit there in a junked car and say nothing while I spill my guts. Yeah, Max, you sure know how to look out for me."

"Logan, please. Stop." She reached out, but he stepped back, hands raised in the air, avoiding her touch.

"Don't, Max. It isn't that easy, not this time."

She stared at him, her face pleading. He lowered his hands.

"You'd better go, Max. Manticore, remember? And I'd better find some bleach." He turned and walked to the other fire door. As he opened it, he turned and gave Max a final hard look. Then the door slammed behind him.

She stood for a long time as the wind snapped the flag and the distant sound of the soldiers' voices carried up from below. The sunrise had long since disappeared behind the gray clouds. And once again, rain threatened.

END OF PROLOGUE

ACT I

At first, a buzz of excitement filled Terminal City. But it gradually died away as hours passed and there was no response to the flag raising. One by one, transgenics filtered away from the perimeter and into the recreation center, where Mole and Alec were playing cards. A small pile of bills and change lay on the table.

"Nice to know you guys are on top of things," grumbled an albino from the Polar Division, sitting down on the floor next to another member of her unit.

"Our tax dollars at work," said the second Polar, moving over.

"Put on the news and see what the rent-a-cops out there are doing," shouted someone from the back of the room. Alec reached over and switched on the television, which flickered wildly. Alec pounded the side and the picture jumped into view.

"...has been quiet since Washington State Military Governor, Jane Savidge, mobilized the National Guard on Thursday to assist the Seattle police in maintaining order at Terminal City. According to the Governor, the Guard is under strict orders not to act unless provoked. So far, the only sign of the several hundred transgenics is a flag that was raised at daybreak today..."

The picture cut to a close-up of Joshua's flag, now hanging limply from the flagpole. Apparently the wind had died down considerably. A ragged cheer, more derisive than sincere, erupted from the crowd in the rec center.

"Us freaks really know how to get it up, huh?" shouted the same voice from the back of the room. There were a few snorts of laughter. Alec lowered the volume.

"Looks like the soldier girls and boys out there are just as bored as we are," commented Mole, turning back to the card game as the camera panned across the lines of tired-looking troops at the Terminal City perimeter.

Seattle City Hall

"Detective Clemente? This way, please." A young administrative assistant waved at the cop across a room crowded with staff members on phones and computers. Clemente picked his way through the maze of desks, garbage cans and briefcases. The assistant opened a heavy wooden door and waved Clemente inside, where the mayor and the chief of police sat in upholstered leather chairs in front of the mayor's desk.

"Detective, good to see you again," the chief said, rising to shake Clemente's hand.
"Nice to meet you," said the mayor, extending his hand as well. "Congratulations on your handling of that hostage crisis last week."

"Thank you, sir," responded Clemente.

"In fact, that's why we've asked you here today," continued the mayor, settling back into his chair. He did not offer Clemente a seat. "While the Terminal City situation has been under control so far, we are under some pressure from Governor Savidge to resolve it. Soon. The federal government wants these…" The mayor paused, as if thinking better of what he had been about to say, "these transgenics returned to the Army. You wouldn't believe it to look at them, but they are actually military personnel absent without leave. Not to mention that it's a felony to cross the security fence around Terminal City."

"I see," said Clemente noncommittally.

"The Feds wanted to send in troops on day one. The governor held them off by calling in the Guard and releasing your friend Special Agent White and his team."

"Where are they now?" asked Clemente sourly.

"Hauled ass back to DC as far as I know, and good riddance to them. Now we need to get the transgenics out of Seattle and our own people away from that toxic nightmare. God knows what they're being exposed to out there."

Now the chief of police spoke. "I've told the mayor about your excellent handling of the hostage situation. We'd prefer to negotiate those…people out of there rather than use force, and we think you're our man. Their leader…what's her name?"

"Max," said Clemente.

"Max, yes. She seems to trust you. Work with that. Do what you have to do to get them out of there. We don't want to lose any soldiers and we don't want to lose any more civilians. And we don't want federal troops in Washington State." The mayor stood and extended his hand again. "We're counting on you, Detective Clemente."

After a moment, Clemente accepted the handshake. "Thank you, sir."

The mayor walked Clemente to the door. "Oh, and one more thing, Detective," called the chief of police.

"What's that?"

"Find the transgenic who killed that young girl in the sewers a couple of weeks ago. The people of Seattle want to see justice done."

"So do I," said Clemente, and left the mayor's office.

Living Quarters, Terminal City

"So is that a kick-ass first-person account or what? 'I Was Held Hostage by Mutants'!" Sketchy hung eagerly over Original Cindy's shoulder, waiting for her reaction to his story, which she was reading in the sleeping quarters Sketchy was currently sharing with some of the male transgenics.

Cindy looked up. She was not smiling. "That's 'transgenics', fool, not 'mutants'. You callin' Max a mutant?"

"I know Max isn't a mutant, but it works better as a headline." Oblivious to her disapproval, Sketchy began to pace. "This is just the beginning, OC! First in a series. 'Escape from Jam Pony…The Untold Story'. 'A Diary of Life Inside Terminal City'. And maybe if I get lucky one of these days, 'I Married a Mu…I mean, a Transgenic'," he amended as Original Cindy glared at him.

"You ain't gonna get lucky around here if you keep usin' that word. You at enough of a disadvantage to begin with."

But Sketchy refused to be discouraged. "OC, don't you get it? This is the break I've been waiting for. Max and her friends are the best thing that's ever happened to me." Sketchy grabbed for his notebook. "C'mon, lemme interview you. This is our big chance to ride the Transgenic Express to fame and fortune." Sketchy's eyes glowed.

Cindy handed him the notebook. "I got only one thing to say, fool, and that is, 'Get lost'. And you can quote me on that." She walked away, leaving Sketchy shaking his head.

Gem's Quarters, Terminal City

Gem gently laid the baby down in her "crib," a blanket folded into an old desk drawer, and leaned wearily back on her own bedroll. The baby had nursed herself to sleep and Gem intended to be right behind her. Even for an X5, childbirth combined with being on the run from the law was an exhausting business. Wearily, she closed her eyes.

Not two seconds later, she heard a footstep and opened her eyes to see Original Cindy, Max's friend, standing next to her with a bottle of spring water and a packet of something wrapped in waxed paper. She sat up.

"Hey, sugah," Cindy told her softly. "I just came by to drop this off. You go ahead and sleep."

But Gem reached eagerly for the food and water. "Mmmmm," she said gratefully. "Thank you so much! Where'd you score this anyway?"

Original Cindy frowned. "Caught some guy cuttin' the food line, gettin' himself a second helping. I figured Max don't need nobody jackin' up her C-rations, so I told him I'd smack his ass down if he didn't give it up."

Gem laughed. "He probably thought you were X5. On MP duty."

Original Cindy looked proud. "Guess some of it's rubbin' off on me."

Gem held out half the food, but Original Cindy shook her head. "That's for you. You may be revved up, but you need to get your strength back. The ration ain't enough to keep a kid going, let alone a new mother."

Gem sighed. "I feel like I should be with Max and Alec and Mole and the rest, figuring out how we can get some more supplies in here. Doing something to help. Even soldiers can't live in battlefield conditions forever without a supply line."

"You'll get your turn…after you get back up to speed."

"How are you doing?"

"Me? Don't you worry about me. Original Cindy is enjoying her sabbatical from the package delivery business. And there are some fine transgenic sisters here. Better than lookin' at Normal's sorry ass all day long."

"Want me to introduce you around?"

"I'm all over that," Cindy replied, then sniffed her arm. "On second thought, better let Original Cindy figure out how to get a bath first." She stood up. "Speaking of bathrooms, what I wouldn't give right now for one of those. You used that latrine?"

Gem nodded.

"Yeah, and I thought the ladies' room at Crash smelled bad. Whew. Anyway, get some rest and one of these days I'll take you up on that offer, aiight?"

"No problem," said Gem, lying down again.

The Rec Center, Terminal City

Max strode into the rec area, glancing around herself at the groups of transgenics sitting on the floor. Mole and Alec sat on overturned wooden crates at a battered old table, playing cards. Alec's feet were on the table and Mole chomped on a cigar as he studied his hand.
"Hey," said Alec conversationally when he saw Max. "Where you been all day? Running combat maneuvers? Kicking a little National Guard butt?"

Max glared at him. "No. I've been counting our nonexistent food and medical supplies and trying to move the latrines somewhere so that we're not pissing in our nonexistent drinking water." Suddenly she noticed the card game. "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Relax," said Alec cheerfully. "Nothing's happening out there." He gestured at the television. The network had returned to its regular programming, a late-afternoon talk show.

"You're gambling?"

"Nah. Just a little friendly wager," Mole said. Alec rolled his eyes. His pile of money was far smaller than Mole's.

"Game's over. We need that money for supplies."

"Yes, ma'am. I was losing anyway," said Alec agreeably, throwing down his cards and reaching for Mole's money.

"Hands off," growled Mole. Alec threw his hands up in the air.

"Hey, you heard the lady. Game's over."

Mole looked up. Max was already walking away, headed for the Command Center. "Lady needs to kick some butt, but it ain't gonna be mine," he said, dropping his cards on the table and following Max. Alec gathered up the money, leaving the cards on the table, and trailed after Mole.

"Don't take the money, Max. We've gotta have something to do around here," Mole argued.

"Play strip poker!" returned Max over her shoulder as she grabbed an earpiece. Mole and Alec looked at each other, intrigued.

"You gonna play too?" Alec began, but Max cut him off with a wave of the hand.

"Shut up!" The expression on her face brought Mole and Alec to their feet, the card game forgotten. Max switched to loudspeaker and the staticky sounds of police band radio echoed through the cavernous space. They stood beside Max, listening.

"...ten or more, exact number unknown. Repeat, exact number unknown. Transgenic fugitives last seen on North Street heading southwest. They are being pursued by at least one group of civilians. The transgenics are armed. Possibly also the civilians. Proceed with caution. Repeat, proceed with caution."

"Roger, we copy," responded a second voice. Then the transmission cut off.

Max, Mole, and Alec exchanged glances. "We've got to get them here," Max said urgently. "Where's Joshua? He can bring them in through the sewers."

"I'm on it." Mole strode away, all business, cigar lying forgotten on the floor.

Max turned to a computer monitor, frowning. "Where's the map?" she muttered, almost to herself. Alec watched for a moment.

"Hey, Max," he added sharply, which made her look up. "Why don't you just call Logan?" When she didn't answer, he went on, "You know…Logan, your boyfriend the hacker? Couldn't keep your hands off him this morning?"

"I can get it," Max insisted. Alec watched as she hit a few more keys. Nothing.

Max sighed. "All right. Send someone to find him while you go round up some techs to run this stuff down here," she said reluctantly.

"Yes, ma'am," Alec replied smartly, staring thoughtfully at Max for a moment before walking away.

END OF ACT I

ACT II