Author's Note: This story is based upon the TV series Dark Angel and its main characters, all of which belong to James Cameron and the FOX Network. For the purposes of this story, it has been nine months since Max escaped from Manticore and first infected Logan with the retro-virus that nearly killed him. Manticore was destroyed and Ames White has been sent to wipe out all evidence that the facility ever existed.
*
Max stared sullenly into her beer as she sat alone at a table in Crash. Original Cindy and Sketchy had left the bar a while ago, but Max was too restless and on edge to go home. Everything in her life sucked. Things between her and Logan were still strained because of the whole retro-virus thing. He was really pissed at her because she refused to see him, but she knew that staying away from him was the only sure way to keep him safe. He'd almost died twice already when they'd accidentally touched, and she wasn't going to let it happen again, even if that meant never seeing him again.
On top of that, Alec had disappeared three months ago without a word, and Normal was making everyone pull extra shifts at Jamponi because he was too cheap to hire a replacement. Alec had probably gotten himself jammed up while pulling one of his scams and skipped town to save his own neck. If she ever laid eyes on him again she was going to kick his pretty-boy ass.
Disgusted with everything, Max grabbed her leather jacket and headed for the door. She needed to go for a long ride. No matter how fucked up things got, feeling her motorcycle vibrate between her legs as she pushed it to its limit always cleared her head.
Sliding on yellow-tinted shades, she sat on her bike and put the key in the ignition. Suddenly she felt a searing jolt go through her; her body convulsed and shuddered before tumbling off the bike onto the cold pavement, unconscious.
His black trench coat swirling around him, White gazed down impassively at Max's supine form before looking at the two large men who'd just shocked her with electric tasers. "Bring her. And the bike."
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When Max came to, she didn't know where she was or what had happened except that she ached from head to toe. She tried to sit up but frowned in confusion when she wasn't able to move. Looking down, she was horrified to see that she was completely naked and strapped securely to a steel table. Her hands were bound above her head while her bare feet were tethered into stirrups that splayed her legs wide apart. She immediately started struggling against the bonds but quickly discovered they were solid -- she wasn't going anywhere.
"I'd save my strength if I were you, 4-5-2. You're going to need it." Max whipped her head around to see White standing in the doorway, watching as she fought uselessly against her restraints.
She glared at him. "I should have known it was you. Let me go, you sick fuck."
He walked into the room, his eyes slowly traveling over her naked curves as he came closer. Max became acutely aware of how vulnerable she was as she watched his cool, dispassionate gaze slide over her full tits and flat stomach to the plump pussy lips exposed by her widespread thighs. Being completely helpless terrified her, but she'd die before letting White know that. The fear fueled her rage and she began struggling against her bindings even harder.
When he stopped just a foot away, she spat at him through clenched teeth, "If you lay so much as a finger on me, I will rip you apart."
"Relax, 4-5-2. I have no intention of touching you." He paused. "Not yet, anyway. Do you really think I'd go through all this trouble just to fuck you?" His cold eyes slid over her body again. "Not that you're not a hot little piece of ass, but right now you have a much more important use to me."
Still scared and furious but relieved he wasn't going to rape her, at least for the moment, Max frowned at him. "Use for what? I thought all you wanted to do was wipe all us transgenic freaks out."
White lifted his eyes from her nakedness and looked at her, once again all business. "That was my original objective, and for the most part it still is. But some new information has come to light which leads us to believe that the Manticore operation can not only be salvaged but rebuilt. And you're the key, 4-5-2."
"What the hell are you talking about? And my name is Max."
White continued as if she hadn't spoken. "As you already know, during your last stay at Manticore they discovered that you don't have any junk DNA; every single base pair that you have is coded for some specific genetic purpose. We just didn't know what your genes are coded to do." He smiled slightly. "But now we do. Would you like to know what that is?"
Max sneered, "No, but I can see you're just dying to tell me. And I wish you would - die, that is."
"You have perfect genetic markers, 4-5-2, which means that you carry half of the DNA required to create the perfect soldier. Of course, it doesn't do us much good without also having the matching male DNA. We had to find the carrier of those specific genetic markers before we could proceed, and finally we did." White turned and walked towards the door. "Ironically, he's an X5 like you." Once there, he nodded to someone standing outside then turned back to Max. "But I think you'll find this even more ironic."
Max stared in shocked disbelief at who walked in the room. "Alec?"
Alec was dressed in soldier fatigues of a gray t-shirt, camouflage pants, and black combat boots. He stood at attention without once glancing in Max's direction, despite the fact that she was naked and on display.
