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last01standingTitle- Pocketful of Lies
Part- 1 of ?
Rating- PG-13
Summary- After hearing a news report on the disappearance of Eyes Only, Max is slowly drawn into the mystery of what really happened to Logan Cale… ML
Disclaimer- I do not own Dark Angel
Timeline-Around one year after Freak Nation. The transgenic situation has died down to the point where I’ll hardly be mentioning it and Max has settled back into her old life.
Author’s note- This is another one of those extremely odd ideas of mine. First chapter’s somewhat normal, but after that it’ll get pretty strange pretty quickly. REVISED 8/2/08.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
Pocketful of Lies
CHAPTER 1
It was a shitty morning. The worst Max had experienced in a long time. First, her pager went off at about four and woke her up--which was a pretty difficult feat considering she hardly ever slept. So feeling groggy, but unable to fall back asleep, she decided to head out of her motorcycle for a couple of hours, only to have her baby break down on her halfway through sector eleven.
To add insult to injury, while she was walking her bike toward the offices of Jam Pony in the early morning, the heavens opened up drenching her with a steady freezing rain. By the time she got to work, she was soaking wet, tired and cranky.
There were eight more pages from the same number before lunchtime. Each time the unfamiliar number popped up, she cursed the caller. The ninth time the pager buzzed, Original Cindy looked at her in exasperation. “So which boy fell under the spell of Max last night? You gonna call the poor man back?”
Max’s eyes flashed. “I don’t know who it is, but this freak has been paging me non-stop.”
“Hate to see you so down. Here I thought you got lucky last night. Off with some guy and leaving Original Cindy alone with herself. You seemed so happy when you got that call. What went sideways?”
Max paused, pursed her lips. “I-,” she stopped, paused, started again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had to go to the doc’s yesterday for a shot of tryptophan. Then I went back home and crashed. I always get sleepy when I have the shakes. I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“Today marks the three year anniversary of Eyes Only’s final broadcast,” the television blared in the background. The news anchor was backed by a familiar pair of green-blue eyes. For some reason, Max couldn’t focus on Original Cindy’s voice. “The self proclaimed voice of the downtrodden disappeared without a trace following a cable hack on millionaire businessman Edgar Sonrisa spurring talk about exactly what may have happened to the city’s protector. The years since his disappearance have marked a 57 increase in crime.”
“Max!” Original Cindy snapped. “Did you even hear a word Original Cindy just said?”
“Sorry,” Max said quickly but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the TV. After a long pause she asked, “What do you think happened to him? Eyes Only I mean?”
“Since when do you care?” Original Cindy asked. “As long as I’ve know you you’ve figured he was just some bored rich guy stirring up trouble for the rest of us?”
“Although no group has directly claimed responsibly, most speculate that Eyes Only met a brutal end…”
“Yeah,” Max mumbled. “Guy got what he deserved. Should have kept out of everyone’s business.” She let out a short snort of laughter. “Got to give him credit though. Anything that keeps transgenic out of the news is good news by me.”
“You said it, sister.”
***
Curiosity got the better of her around lunch time. The bizarre collection of repeat pages had stopped rather abruptly. Despite herself, Max wanted to know why they’d just given up. She blamed her cat DNA. So between runs, she walked up to the pay-phone, whacked the side of it and dialed the number and waited.
"The number you have dialed is no longer in service," an impersonal voice informed her. Max slammed the phone down in irritation.
Whoever had the nerve to blow up her pager all morning should at least have the courtesy to be there when she called back. Idiot.
“Max!” Normal hollered. “Hot run, sector nine. Bip!”
She caught the package and left without protest.
***
The rain had let up by the time she had reached the high-rise district, but it was still heavy enough to be a nuisance. The weather certainly hadn’t done wonders for her mood. The delivery was to a place called Fogle towers, a Mrs. Moreno in one of the penthouse apartments. An armed guard stepped forwards to block her entrance. “What’s you’re dealio?” Max grumbled, flashing her ID. “Jam Pony messenger. I’ve got a package to deliver to a Mrs. Moreno.”
The security guard, a large black guy with a shaved head glared down his nose at her. “I can’t let you come in, ma’am.”
“Look, I’m a working girl, just like you. Trying to get paid.”
“A few men broke into a penthouse apartment a year ago. It was unoccupied at the time, but it gave all our residents quite a scare. Security protocol dictates only authorized personnel enter.”
“But I need a signature!”
“You’re welcome to wait.”
She shoved the package at his chest and stalked back to her bike. But before turning to the street, she gazed up at the building, eyes automatically drifting to the penthouse. There was something familiar about all this, but the exact situation eluded her memory.
A few hours later, as she was winding down with Original Cindy and Sketchy, she placed it. The penthouse, the statue of Bast, the blue eyes of Logan Cale.
***
The memories of the penthouse played at the edges of her consciousness for the rest of the night. Cale’s touch against her neck, the gun pointed directly at her, his calm confident voice as he confronted her about Manticore. When she got to Crash that night it was still fresh on her mind.
She had walked away. Cale had offered her a way to find Zack and the other escapees and she’d ignored him. Hell, she’d barely spared a thought to Logan Cale in years, but something about the visit to Fogle Towers combined with the news report on Eyes Only brought the entire encounter back into razor sharp focus.
Max didn’t know why it bothered her. Cale had been a manipulative self-surviving bastard. He’d dangled her family in front of her—bait for doing some Eyes Only work. She’d told him to go to hell. It was a decision that had caused her absolutely no grief in the end. The guy was a whack job. He’d gotten himself shot up a day later and Max couldn’t help but think he’d had it coming. She had no idea where Cale was now.
Absently, she wondered if Cale had anything to the sudden barrage of pages. She doubted it. The guy hadn’t tried to contact her for three years. He’d probably given up all hope of her joining his little crusade long ago.
Only there hadn’t even been a cable hack for three years. Not since the one she'd seen him recording the expose on Sonrisa. If his persistence with her was any indication, Logan Cale wasn't the type to give up. Yet he had. Eyes Only had been missing in action for years.
He was probably dead. She didn’t know why that possibility disturbed her so much. She didn’t even know the man. When she’d met him, she definitely hadn’t liked him.
“Seriously, Sugar,” Original Cindy said with evident exasperation. “What’s got you down? Or is this one of those strange heterosexual things I don’t want to know about?”
“Sort of,” Max muttered. “Do you remember Logan Cale? I know this is really out of the blue, but he was this guy I met almost three years ago. Haven’t seen him since.”
“So what’s with the sudden brooding?” Cindy asked. “You saying it’s this Logan guy who’s got you angsting up your own personal storm cloud.”
“There’s no angst,” Max snapped immediately. “It’s just…I don’t know. I had a run out by the place he used to live today and something about just got me thinking.” She took sip of her beer. “I wonder what happened to him.”
“This sounds an awful lot like heterosexual angst to Original Cindy.” She shot her friend a searching glance. “Why don’t you just do some digging. Find out what happened to him, maybe scratch that itch if you feel the need. It wouldn’t be hard. And besides.” Original Cindy drew herself up and adjusted her shirt. “anything’s better that you in this sort of mood.”
Breaking into the penthouse was disturbingly familiar. Like she’d done this more than once. Like she used to drop in through the skylight of Fogle Towers just to say hello to Logan Cale. The whole situation unnerved her.
She didn’t know what she expected to find, but it definitely wasn’t the scene that greeted her. The computers were still on his desk, surrounded by expensive looking electronics equipment she could only assume facilitated the hacks. But every piece of equipment was in shatters. Monitors spilled broken glass to the floor, computers were sporting fatal bullet wounds. The dinner table was overturned, all of its contents spilled to the floor. The ground was littered with shattered silverware and broken chess pieces. But the entire apartment was coated in a thick layer of dust like no one had been here for a while.
And then there was Logan Cale in the middle of the wreckage, sitting, waiting, smiling, hands on the rims on his wheelchair. “Max,” he said calmly, completely unaware of the destruction around him. “I’ve been paging you all morning, I was starting to think you’d never stop by."
| 2 |
Part- 1 of ?
Rating- PG-13
Summary- After hearing a news report on the disappearance of Eyes Only, Max is slowly drawn into the mystery of what really happened to Logan Cale… ML
Disclaimer- I do not own Dark Angel
Timeline-Around one year after Freak Nation. The transgenic situation has died down to the point where I’ll hardly be mentioning it and Max has settled back into her old life.
Author’s note- This is another one of those extremely odd ideas of mine. First chapter’s somewhat normal, but after that it’ll get pretty strange pretty quickly. REVISED 8/2/08.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
CHAPTER 1
It was a shitty morning. The worst Max had experienced in a long time. First, her pager went off at about four and woke her up--which was a pretty difficult feat considering she hardly ever slept. So feeling groggy, but unable to fall back asleep, she decided to head out of her motorcycle for a couple of hours, only to have her baby break down on her halfway through sector eleven.
To add insult to injury, while she was walking her bike toward the offices of Jam Pony in the early morning, the heavens opened up drenching her with a steady freezing rain. By the time she got to work, she was soaking wet, tired and cranky.
There were eight more pages from the same number before lunchtime. Each time the unfamiliar number popped up, she cursed the caller. The ninth time the pager buzzed, Original Cindy looked at her in exasperation. “So which boy fell under the spell of Max last night? You gonna call the poor man back?”
Max’s eyes flashed. “I don’t know who it is, but this freak has been paging me non-stop.”
“Hate to see you so down. Here I thought you got lucky last night. Off with some guy and leaving Original Cindy alone with herself. You seemed so happy when you got that call. What went sideways?”
Max paused, pursed her lips. “I-,” she stopped, paused, started again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had to go to the doc’s yesterday for a shot of tryptophan. Then I went back home and crashed. I always get sleepy when I have the shakes. I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“Today marks the three year anniversary of Eyes Only’s final broadcast,” the television blared in the background. The news anchor was backed by a familiar pair of green-blue eyes. For some reason, Max couldn’t focus on Original Cindy’s voice. “The self proclaimed voice of the downtrodden disappeared without a trace following a cable hack on millionaire businessman Edgar Sonrisa spurring talk about exactly what may have happened to the city’s protector. The years since his disappearance have marked a 57 increase in crime.”
“Max!” Original Cindy snapped. “Did you even hear a word Original Cindy just said?”
“Sorry,” Max said quickly but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the TV. After a long pause she asked, “What do you think happened to him? Eyes Only I mean?”
“Since when do you care?” Original Cindy asked. “As long as I’ve know you you’ve figured he was just some bored rich guy stirring up trouble for the rest of us?”
“Although no group has directly claimed responsibly, most speculate that Eyes Only met a brutal end…”
“Yeah,” Max mumbled. “Guy got what he deserved. Should have kept out of everyone’s business.” She let out a short snort of laughter. “Got to give him credit though. Anything that keeps transgenic out of the news is good news by me.”
“You said it, sister.”
Curiosity got the better of her around lunch time. The bizarre collection of repeat pages had stopped rather abruptly. Despite herself, Max wanted to know why they’d just given up. She blamed her cat DNA. So between runs, she walked up to the pay-phone, whacked the side of it and dialed the number and waited.
"The number you have dialed is no longer in service," an impersonal voice informed her. Max slammed the phone down in irritation.
Whoever had the nerve to blow up her pager all morning should at least have the courtesy to be there when she called back. Idiot.
“Max!” Normal hollered. “Hot run, sector nine. Bip!”
She caught the package and left without protest.
The rain had let up by the time she had reached the high-rise district, but it was still heavy enough to be a nuisance. The weather certainly hadn’t done wonders for her mood. The delivery was to a place called Fogle towers, a Mrs. Moreno in one of the penthouse apartments. An armed guard stepped forwards to block her entrance. “What’s you’re dealio?” Max grumbled, flashing her ID. “Jam Pony messenger. I’ve got a package to deliver to a Mrs. Moreno.”
The security guard, a large black guy with a shaved head glared down his nose at her. “I can’t let you come in, ma’am.”
“Look, I’m a working girl, just like you. Trying to get paid.”
“A few men broke into a penthouse apartment a year ago. It was unoccupied at the time, but it gave all our residents quite a scare. Security protocol dictates only authorized personnel enter.”
“But I need a signature!”
“You’re welcome to wait.”
She shoved the package at his chest and stalked back to her bike. But before turning to the street, she gazed up at the building, eyes automatically drifting to the penthouse. There was something familiar about all this, but the exact situation eluded her memory.
A few hours later, as she was winding down with Original Cindy and Sketchy, she placed it. The penthouse, the statue of Bast, the blue eyes of Logan Cale.
The memories of the penthouse played at the edges of her consciousness for the rest of the night. Cale’s touch against her neck, the gun pointed directly at her, his calm confident voice as he confronted her about Manticore. When she got to Crash that night it was still fresh on her mind.
She had walked away. Cale had offered her a way to find Zack and the other escapees and she’d ignored him. Hell, she’d barely spared a thought to Logan Cale in years, but something about the visit to Fogle Towers combined with the news report on Eyes Only brought the entire encounter back into razor sharp focus.
Max didn’t know why it bothered her. Cale had been a manipulative self-surviving bastard. He’d dangled her family in front of her—bait for doing some Eyes Only work. She’d told him to go to hell. It was a decision that had caused her absolutely no grief in the end. The guy was a whack job. He’d gotten himself shot up a day later and Max couldn’t help but think he’d had it coming. She had no idea where Cale was now.
Absently, she wondered if Cale had anything to the sudden barrage of pages. She doubted it. The guy hadn’t tried to contact her for three years. He’d probably given up all hope of her joining his little crusade long ago.
Only there hadn’t even been a cable hack for three years. Not since the one she'd seen him recording the expose on Sonrisa. If his persistence with her was any indication, Logan Cale wasn't the type to give up. Yet he had. Eyes Only had been missing in action for years.
He was probably dead. She didn’t know why that possibility disturbed her so much. She didn’t even know the man. When she’d met him, she definitely hadn’t liked him.
“Seriously, Sugar,” Original Cindy said with evident exasperation. “What’s got you down? Or is this one of those strange heterosexual things I don’t want to know about?”
“Sort of,” Max muttered. “Do you remember Logan Cale? I know this is really out of the blue, but he was this guy I met almost three years ago. Haven’t seen him since.”
“So what’s with the sudden brooding?” Cindy asked. “You saying it’s this Logan guy who’s got you angsting up your own personal storm cloud.”
“There’s no angst,” Max snapped immediately. “It’s just…I don’t know. I had a run out by the place he used to live today and something about just got me thinking.” She took sip of her beer. “I wonder what happened to him.”
“This sounds an awful lot like heterosexual angst to Original Cindy.” She shot her friend a searching glance. “Why don’t you just do some digging. Find out what happened to him, maybe scratch that itch if you feel the need. It wouldn’t be hard. And besides.” Original Cindy drew herself up and adjusted her shirt. “anything’s better that you in this sort of mood.”
Breaking into the penthouse was disturbingly familiar. Like she’d done this more than once. Like she used to drop in through the skylight of Fogle Towers just to say hello to Logan Cale. The whole situation unnerved her.
She didn’t know what she expected to find, but it definitely wasn’t the scene that greeted her. The computers were still on his desk, surrounded by expensive looking electronics equipment she could only assume facilitated the hacks. But every piece of equipment was in shatters. Monitors spilled broken glass to the floor, computers were sporting fatal bullet wounds. The dinner table was overturned, all of its contents spilled to the floor. The ground was littered with shattered silverware and broken chess pieces. But the entire apartment was coated in a thick layer of dust like no one had been here for a while.
And then there was Logan Cale in the middle of the wreckage, sitting, waiting, smiling, hands on the rims on his wheelchair. “Max,” he said calmly, completely unaware of the destruction around him. “I’ve been paging you all morning, I was starting to think you’d never stop by."
| 2 |
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