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Chapter Two - A sign of conscience
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Transgenic scum.
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You think those geeks with their chemistry sets and their gene banks and their greasy little paws are the future? You have no idea what you're up against.
"Oh now what the hell is this?"
I eyed the creature with repulsion as it leant against the wall, it's breath coming in ragged gasps. During the many months in which I'd been hunting life's little abominations, I'd come across some of the most beautiful genetic freaks, and some of the foulest. This thing before me definitely tipped the scales of ugly.
Struggling to draw in breath through the phlegm which rattled in it's throat, the creature appeared to be choking to death. But it was obviously used to being in such a state, had probably suffered all of its life. I didn't know what to make of it. I hated these freaks with a passion. My father's gift to me before he left was an obsession with cleansing the world of this kind of filth - and of humanity in general. Such was my hatred for him. But I couldn't help but feel pity for this genetic fuck up. My kind may be thought upon as cruel, but that's a misunderstanding. We'd never force such an atrocity to live. Allowing this beast to have so obviously suffered all of it's life, for the sake of science? Now that's cruel.
Suddenly the thing barked and staggered forward, coughing thick mucus up onto a pile at its feet. I calmly stepped back out of range and watched with mild amusement, the faces of those around me. They couldn't believe the horror before them. Each grown man in the room was at once experiencing the same thought. There was truth in their childhood monster's after all.
"Otto!" I snapped out his name like it was a command in its own, and at once my trusty sidekick materialised beside me.
"Yes sir!"
I glanced to the clumsy looking man, he seemed not at all concerned at the sight of this mutant before us. For a man who looked like an encumbrance, one could mistake him for being nothing more than a mindless boar rather than my right hand man. A bore he was but a boar he was not. Special Agent Otto Gottlieb was a more intelligent man than what he presumed to be. And he knew more about Manticore's sideshow freaks than what was his due right.
"What's the hell's wrong with this thing?"
He raised a speculative eyebrow and shook his head. For once, the guy was stumped.
"I can't see it have been designed for any purpose. I would say it was one of their earliest attempts." He shrugged. There really wasn't much else that could be said about the thing.
"And they kept it around as a reminder of what not to do?" I shook my head in disgust. "Well, it won't be breathing much longer."
I pulled out my gun and prepared to take aim.
"You're not going to have it sent to forensics?"
I glanced to Otto. "I doubt they'd have any purpose for pulling this one apart. It's a freak even by Manticore's standards. Why make the thing claw for air any longer?"
I nearly choked on my words, especially when I caught the fleeting look of surprise on Otto's face. I knew exactly what he was thinking, and asked my self the same question. Since when had I given a flying fuck about the misery of these beasts?
Steeling my expression once more, I fired a shot at the mutant, deliberately aiming for an area that would only maim, not kill. I had to make up for my show of of-character conscience after all. The creature howled and slumped to the ground clutching its leg. I grinned and fired round two, this time a head shot which silenced it instantly. And then to be sure the thing was dead, I emptied my clip into it's foul and lumpy flesh.
Satisfied by its death, I turned to Otto. "Get rid of it."
Without waiting for him to follow my order - I knew he would, I walked out from the room. I needed to get the image of the circus freak out of my head. And the fact that I'd sympathised with it for a fleeting moment left a sickly taste in my mouth.
Sector Police had brought the thing in for our disposal. Since the transgenics had cornered themselves up in Terminal City, the public had cried out for a clean up crew to take care of the mess. It was time for the NSA's covert group of transgenic hunter's to come out onto official records. A fact that had both benefits and drawbacks.
As usual, this latest Manticorian had been captured in the sewers. You'd think that they'd come up with a less predictable means of travel by now. The thing had been making its way to Terminal City through a section of Seattle's pipelines that had been closed off since the toxic spill. The area was meant to be under guard, but after the various messes made in the past few months by both Sector Police and my own group, I decided to have a look around for myself.
I blocked the images of today's sideshow attraction out of my head as I drove to the closest sewer entry to where it had been apprehended. I didn't want to think of how I'd actually felt sorry for the damn thing. What next? I stand on a street corner selling little Freak Nation flags on sticks for the kids to wave?
Chuckling at the image, I entered the sewer through an entrance hidden from public eye. A man in an immaculate suit stepping out of a black sedan and clambering into a sewage drain was hardly appropriate. But it was nothing new. I'd lost count of the times I'd billed the NSA for dry-cleaning.
Threading my way through the tunnels in the direction of Terminal City, I came across no sign of the men who were supposed to be patrolling the area on look out for more transgenics. Typical. They see one little freak and run away in fear. Idiots.
Why my father's creations chose to stay in Seattle was beyond me. Did they really think they'd be safe if they lumped together in plain sight of the world? Yeah right. They were sitting ducks. The government may have supported their existence when it suited their purposes and every thing was hush hush, but now that their existence was out in the open... no higher power would possibly support them. Not when the people of America were by far and large, calling out for their deaths.
My kind can match the speed and strength of any transgenic, if not surpass it. But there's nothing new in selective breeding. It's not unusual to breed out certain traits in animals in order to gain the desired degree of pedigree perfection, and although I don't like to compare my race to animals, the same rules of selection can apply for humans too. Familiar's are natural evolution with a little kick-start. Transgenics are the cheats way out. My father's solution. They're like additives and food colouring. Unnatural, false, undoubtedly wrong.
When my father turned on the Conclave, he left me to pick up the pieces of his betrayal and try to make a life out of the left overs. Do you know how hard that has been? My brother is a nut case, my father a traitor. Needless to say, I'm perfectly aware that my every move is watched to ensure I don't show signs of any genetic flaw. I have no doubt that if such a thing were to happen, my life would be no more to the Conclave, than that mutant freak was to Manticore. Except the Conclave would never bother to keep me hanging on. You can be sure I have no intention to shorten my life span. My kind are long lived and I intend to make the most of this fact.
I quickened my pace as my thoughts turned to Wendy once more. Would she never get out of my mind? No I think it was deemed my fate to suffer memories of her in place of conscience for killing her. Or maybe that's what a conscience is? I wouldn't know, I've never had need to consider such things until lately when the ghost of my dead wife seemed to be haunting me more frequently. Following me like a ball around my ankle. One I'd like to just kick out of sight - but I know it would snap back and smack me in the shin. Not that I'd feel it anyway.
I had a good life with Wendy. Of course, the plan had never been for me to actually end up loving her. I suppose you feel inclined to treat the idea of me being capable of love with scorn? Could Ames White actually love a mere human? Yes I could and I did. I'll freely admit that at first she was nothing but a carrier for my children. I married her as she was deemed by the Conclave to have the right qualities for continuing my bloodline. And of course, I did what I was ordered to do. Never would I think to question the wisdom that has ensured ten generations of selective breeding maintain its perfection.
When the first two children were 'stillborn', Wendy was devastated. I too felt incredible regret for what had to be done. But it's not something I would question. They were my own children and with my own hands I killed them. Yet another necessity I didn't query. It's a sign of utmost loyalty to take these young, helpless lives. Therefore I have no idea how my father managed to do it.
This tradition of killing the first two children isn't a wacky cult ritual without purpose. It's simply a fact of selective breeding as I'm sure I pointed out before. That's the problem with human sentimentality. They'll always be weak and pathetic because they allow conscience to rule their decisions. Except for many of those who are in positions of power and don't allow such trivial matters as guilt to sway them. Although, they're even worse than the average human. Where mere humans are concerned, those in power do things without conscience because there's no room in their minds for anything except their own greed. We don't care for such things. Our decisions, no matter how 'heartless' they seem, are made to better the futures of our children. Of course, I don't expect you to understand that.
My mind dwelt upon these thoughts as I wandered through the sewers. I knew there had to be a way that these critters were getting in an out past the guards... oh, well, there were no guards were there? But if there were, these transgenics had found a way to slip past. Reminding myself to keep my mind on the job at hand, I shook my head and cleared my thoughts of the distractive past.
Turning a corner, I suddenly found myself colliding with another person. It took me by such surprise, I jumped back in alarm, the person opposite me mirroring my reaction. As she shook the hair out of her eyes, I found myself exchanging shocked stares with none other than my nemesis 452. The elusive thorn that was forever in my side - was now right before my face.
I could have laughed at her expression. She wiped the look of fear in record time, but not before I caught a glimpse. Frozen, she stood before me like the proverbial deer caught in headlights, as if waiting for the fight or flight response to kick in with the most suitable option.
"Well 452, you hang out in the sewers often?"
I grinned as she nearly leapt out of her skin at the sound of my voice. "I suppose it's a suitable place for your kind - amid the rats and filth."
"Oh, so that would explain why you're here then Ames?"
That familiar look of defiance had crept into her eyes as she at last found her voice. I briefly imagined how a casual backhand would wipe the smugness from her face.
"Touch� 452"
I could see she was going to bolt and I sprung forward, grabbing her by the arm and throwing her back against the concrete wall of the tunnel, somewhat surprised that she hadn't anticipated my move. Her head cracked against the concrete and if I could feel pain, I could imagine it would hurt. But unfortunately she recovered well and launched herself at me, slamming her body into mine and propelling us both backwards. My feet slipped in the slimy film that covered every surface, and I landed hard on my back, 452 on top of me. Of course, that position didn't hold for long. Whether I shoved her away or she rolled herself, I found myself suddenly looking at her retreating back as she took off down the tunnel the way she had come.
Refusing to let her get away yet again, I leapt to my feet and gave chase. I could match her speed and my fighting skills were more finely honed than hers. Therefore I had no doubt that I'd catch her this time. It didn't take long, she appeared to have had a leg injury I of course had no chance to notice earlier. With a satisfied grin, I summoned an extra burst of energy and leapt, tackling her to the ground once more.
Quickly I sprung away and dragged her to her feet, holding her firmly by the chin until my fingers dug into her skin. "Think I'm letting you go 452?"
Her fist connected square with my jaw and she jerked her head away, a swift kick to my stomach throwing me back a step and nearly causing me to fall in the slime once more. Angered by the embarrassment, I grabbed 452's arms and slammed her against the side of the tunnel, her body sliding slightly in the gunge that clung to the concrete walls. Her eyes widened in alarm and pain as the air was suddenly forced from her lungs and for a moment she could do nothing but try to regain it. Pressing my body against hers to inhibit movement, I grinned as she tried to squirm away, her efforts getting her nowhere at all.
"What's wrong? Feeling like you're stuck between a rock and a hard place 452?"
I think I shared her shock at that moment. There was far more suggestion in the quip than what I had intended.
She opened her mouth to fire out one of her trademark replies, but merely gaped. For once she was well and truly speechless - my body pressed against her own in a way that suddenly seemed uncomfortably intimate for us both. And was of course, a large cause of this affliction.
Then the hard glint came back into her eyes once more and the next thing I knew, I was being shoved back into the opposite wall. Defiance raged in her expression and I chuckled out loud at the sight of this inflamed creature before me. Of course, my laughter only angered her further. It gave me such satisfaction to see her so indignant.
"Don't you ever touch me again Ames White." Through clenched teeth she managed to grind the words out, the way she was carrying on, you'd think I'd tried to violate her. Now that was a thought.
"I don't like killing people but you're not classified as human so I can make an acceptation."
"Oh get over it 452." I spat the words with a sneer, stepping towards her once more. "What, don't tell me you didn't actually enjoy our intimate little moment?"
I expected the foot that came lashing out at me, and I caught it easily, allowing an exaggerated sigh to provoke her further. "When did fighting you become so boring and predictable 452? What happened to the good old days huh?"
I lashed out and kicked her other leg from under her. The leg that happened to be already injured. 452 crumpled to the ground, rank sewage muck splashing up around her. Still maintaining my hold on her foot, I crouched between her legs and leant my weight against it. Enjoying the wince of pain she tried so hard to suppress. "I mean, it used to be fun and exciting, you and me...battling it out... But now... it's just so routine and blagh! What's happened to us 452?"
I was now leaning so far forward upon her leg, the pain must have been excruciating. Our faces were so close I could feel her breath on my cheek. The effort of biting back a cry was hampering her ability to speak.
This was the point where she was mine for the killing. We both knew it. This was the moment I'd been waiting for and that she'd been hiding from. Before me was the perfect opportunity to bring back honour to my family name and destroy the one who was prophesised to bring about our downfall.
With a smirk I couldn't hide, I pulled back and dragged the freak to her feet. Tugging her towards me once more, I grabbed her by the back of her head, my fingers twisting so tightly into locks of hair, she whimpered with pain. The fingers of my free hand I allowed to travel lightly across her throat, a sensation that clashed greatly with the damage my other hand was doing.
The look in her eyes at that moment brought back a wash of memories once more. What was it with me and nostalgia lately? I could see so much in those eyes that pleaded silently for life. She wasn't thinking of herself as most humans would, but rather of the people who she felt depended on her. Just as Wendy's eyes had been filled with fear for Ray until the very last seconds of her life.
As my hands wrapped around her throat with intensifying force, I thought also of the blind girl in the sewers who I'd murdered simply to frame the canine that had been the source of public loathing a few months back.
Why did I have to be struck by conscience now?
"Damn you bitch." I threw her backwards, shoving her roughly to the ground for the final time. I couldn't do it - not here in the sewers once more. Not without a fair fight. What the hell was wrong me? "Don't think I'm developing any kind of affection for you my favourite little foe, but you'll keep till next time."
"Wha..."
She never finished the question, probably scared that it would tempt me to change my mind. But I knew what she was asking. As with Otto earlier that day, I asked myself the same thing.
"You made your pet dog show mercy to me during your stint at Jam Pony Express. I may not have a heart, but I have honour. Now we're even."
I turned and stalked off back the way I had come, allowing her to drag herself back home. My words sounded fresh from countless Hollywood movies. Wouldn't you think I could be a bit more original than that?
Before I reached daylight, I threw my fist into a wall. Repeatedly. Smashing that wall over and over with fists and feet until my knuckles ran red with blood. A few days a go I was developing a need to experience once again, my wife's humanity. Now it seemed I was developing a conscience too. It was time to mount a major attack against Terminal City, just to make up for my show of kindness. After all, I didn't want to start looking like some twisted kind of good guy.
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