Dysfunctional -- Chapter 20

Disclaimer: The TV show Dark Angel, all of the characters that appeared on it (Alec, Biggs, Renfro, etc.), and everything else that has to do with the show belong to their respective owners, not to me. No money is being made off of this fic. I only own the original characters (X5-121, etc.).

One month later…

511 lay on top of his bunk for several minutes after the lights went out. After the guards were out of sight and out of hearing range, he got up and he went over to the door of his cell and opened it. On either side of him, 494 and 121 also opened their cell doors and all three of them stepped out into the hallway. “Should we go?”

121 adjusted the strap of the duffel bag that was slung over one of her shoulders and nodded. “Yeah. How much do you want to bet that 849 and 228 will beat us up there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any cash on me at the moment,” 494 quipped. 121 rolled her eyes, but she didn’t say anything.

They quietly made their way through the building and to a stairwell. They went up until they got up to the roof level and opened the door and walked out onto the roof and sat down. A few minutes later, the door opened again and 849 and 228 walked out onto the roof and joined the other three X5s.

“Well, we’re here,” 849 said. “What have you got for us, 121?”

121 grinned. “Something for everyone.” She unzipped her duffle bag and brought out a bottle and held it up. “Caribbean rum.” She handed the bottle to 849 and stuck her tongue out at 494 when he made a face. “Like I said, you baby, I have enough for everyone.” She reached back into the bag and took out another bottle and handed it to him and then got out a bottle each for 511 and 228 before taking out one for herself. They unscrewed the caps off of their bottles and then raised them. “Salut. Here’s to us.”

“Here, here,” 494 agreed. They touched their bottles and he took a swig from his. “Nice. Thank you, 121.”

“You’re welcome, 494,” 121 replied. “Oh, that reminds me.” She put her rum down, reached back into her bag, took something out of it, and handed the item to 511. “Ask and you shall receive.”

“Oh?” 511 wondered curiously. He looked at what 121 had handed to him and his jaw dropped and he just sat there speechless for a few moments.

228 looked at him oddly. “I know that it can’t be the alcohol that’s making you act weird, so what gives?”

“Thank you,” 511 told his girlfriend. He leaned over and kissed 121 and then held out what she had handed to him. “Feast your eyes on this!” It was a picture of 121 on the beach wearing a bikini.

“You actually had a picture taken of yourself? Are you fucking crazy?” 228 questioned.

“I had to fit in, remember?” 121 said. “It was a vacation. People on vacation take pictures of each other. Don’t worry, those negatives do not exist anymore. That trail is squeaky clean. I know what I’m doing.” She grinned. “Besides, he asked me for a picture of myself in a bikini so I gave him one.”

“You are just too much,” 849 commented, laughing.

“You’re damn right I am,” 121 agreed.

“There’s something else that I can’t believe,” 228 said. “Look at that tan! I wish that we could get a tan like that here in Seattle.”

“You’re so fair that even if we could get a tan like this here, you’d probably burn quickly,” 121 pointed out.

“I know,” 228 conceded. She sighed dejectedly. “I can’t help wishing, though.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” 121 agreed. She drank some more of her liquor.

“So, what else did you do there besides work on your tan?” 494 asked. “Did you get to kick some ass or was it pretty much babysitting?”

“Babysitting, though I did have to assassinate one of the businessmen before I came back here,” 121 replied. “It was easy. I could do sniper assassinations in my sleep.”

511 looked at her. “You don’t feel weird about it?”

121 snorted. “Normally I do have at least a couple of regrets when I have to complete an assassination, but this guy on more than one occasion when he, the rest of the men, myself, and the rest of the eye candy would go out drinking at night, he’d get drunk and pretty much try to rape me. He deserved anything and everything. I shudder to think how many times that he actually did get drunk and possibly rape somebody back in his home country.”

“Did he get that far?” 511 asked, clenching his fists in anger.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” 121 said. She smiled and gently touched the side of 511’s face. “I’d never let him get that far with me and if he tried to do something to one of the other girls, I’d slip something into his drink to knock him out. Nothing happened.”

494 looked around and quickly decided to break the tension. “Well, I don’t know about any of you, but I wouldn’t mind some female companionship when we go back inside.” He turned to 849 and grinned wolfishly. “What do you say, 849? You, me, my cell, and we keep the rest of my unit up all night?”

“No way,” 849 told him, laughing. “No offense, 494.”

“Darn,” 494 said, pretending to be disappointed. “Now what am I going to do?”

“There’s always 786,” 121 teased.

“I would if I didn’t have any kind of standards,” 494 said.

“My goodness, that woman is a complete whore,” 228 declared. “How many people do you think she’s screwed?”

“Who knows and who cares?” 511 said. “What do you think should be considered to become a part of the regimen in Psy Ops? Being locked in a small room with 786, being locked in a small room with 908, or being locked in a small room with 714?”

“Hey, you’re forgetting 237, 665, 013, 107…” 494 joked. They all laughed. “That is a tough one. Being stuck in a small room with any of them for hours on end would be an effective method of torture for them to use in Psy Ops.”

“Okay, I’ll ask a different question,” 511 said. “What would be your preferred method of transportation when you’re outside on a mission? Car or motorcycle?”

“Motorcycle. Easy,” 121 answered immediately. “A racing or a street-type bike and not a cruiser. One with an engine of no less than 600cc. I got to use one on a mission and it was the absolute best thing. I would love to take it out when I had off hours and I would just go blasting around corners and weaving through traffic at high speeds.” She grinned.

“I’d have to agree with her,” 849 said. “Cars are nice, but there’s just something that almost…speaks to you about motorcycles.”

“I’ve got a question,” 228 spoke up. She had a mischievous look on her face. “Have any of you ever done anything silly on a mission?”

“Define silly,” 494 requested.

“Sure.” 228 took a sip of her rum before she continued. “Really incredible juvenile behavior. For instance, mooning, toilet papering either private or public property or both, or anything like that?”

“Oh yeah,” 494 said. “On this one mission a few years ago when I had to go to South Carolina, I was with 786, 714, 013, 665, and 619 and we went to hang out with this group of farm kids and we went cow tipping.” He shrugged. “I didn’t see the point of that, though 013, 665, 619, and those kids thought it was hilarious.”

“I remember one time about five years ago when myself and several other members from my unit had to infiltrate this gang of kids,” 849 recalled. “228 didn’t go on the mission. We had to go undercover with this gang because Manticore had gotten intel that one of the members was secretly working with his senator father to supply weapons and funds to a foreign terrorist group. The gang for the most part was relatively harmless and loved to engage in that sort of juvenile behavior. They were particularly fond of throwing eggs at passing cars.” She brightened. “Oh! One time we did go streaking and they made 558 do it.” She snickered. “Let’s just say that I’m pretty sure now that his arrogance is a cover for certain…shortcomings.”

“121, is the same true with 494?” 228 asked, grinning.

“Why? Are you trying to suggest something?” 494 wondered.

“No, I’m female. It’s hard wired into those two X chromosomes of mine to ask that sort of a question,” 228 retorted. She stuck her tongue out at 494. “Well, 121? What does the survey say?”

“Unfortunately, that is not the case for 494,” 121 answered. “He doesn’t have any shortcomings with regards to that area of his anatomy.” She paused thoughtfully and then reached over and down the front of 511’s pants, who almost jumped in surprise. She pulled her hand out and grinned. “He’s even better.”

“Thanks,” 511 said happily.

494 looked uneasy. “Do we have to continue this line of discussion?”

“I don’t mind continuing,” 121 said. “How about everybody else?”

“Hey, as long as we keep talking about how well-endowed I am, I don’t mind at all,” 511 said cheerfully. That got a laugh out of all of them, even 494.

“This is great,” 849 observed. She took a swig of her rum and looked out at the surrounding area. “I feel sorry for the little freak sevens out there. It’s got to suck to have no real mind of your own.”

“Or have no real face of your own,” 228 agreed. “One face, essentially one mind…that’s got to be tough.” She shrugged. “Then again, if they’re so hive minded as they are, they don’t notice and it doesn’t matter to them.”

“Yeah, true,” 121 said. She grinned. “Hey, if you want to talk about sharing one mind, let’s ask these two guys what it’s like.” She pointed to 494 and 511.

“I thought you loved me,” 511 teased.

“I do,” 121 said. She leaned over and kissed him.

“Awwww,” 849 and 228 said in unison.

“Gag me,” 494 remarked.

“Glad to,” 121 said. She smiled again. “Did any of you see how…”

TBC