Prophecy -- Prologue

Disclaimer:  The TV shows Dark Angel and Supernatural, all of the characters that appeared on them, and everything else that has to do with the shows belong to their respective owners, not to me.  No money is being made off of this fic.  I only own the original characters (Dylan/X6-175, etc.).

Notes:  My first attempt at a crossover fic.  Starts off around the time of the Dark Angel season 2 episode “Bag ‘Em.”  Spoilers/spoiler-ish stuff for that episode as well as for “Designate This.”  The fic will, at least at first, be focusing on the DA universe.

X6-175 pulled on the light jacket that he’d stolen from the clothing store just a few short hours before.  It was fairly chilly for early summer.  Not that he cared, but he could still almost hear all the instructors and trainers from Manticore half-yelling in his mind about the importance of blending into a crowd when out on the solo missions that he’d been cleared for just a few months prior.  He briefly closed his eyes.

Not that this is a mission, 175 thought.  They wouldn’t set fire to their own facility, at least they wouldn’t with their own soldiers still inside.  If the brass really would go that far and do something like that…well, it wouldn’t be the first time that they would go way too far against somebody for no good reason.  The fire three days ago only happened to be the first time that they’ve gone this distance!  He looked up and saw a woman approach him, smiling a little when he realized that she wasn’t a threat.

“Excuse me, do you have the time?” the woman asked.

“Sure,” 175 replied.  He took his left hand out of his jeans pocket and glanced at his watch.  “Ten-fifteen.”

“Thanks,” she said.  She looked at 175 and blushed slightly before walking away, giggling a little as she went.  175 looked amusedly in her direction before shaking his head and continuing along his own way.

Yeah, I can just hear 494 and 510 now.  ‘Why didn’t you try to get her number?’  Um, dudes?  A: She was too old for me.  Not bad looking by any stretch of the imagination, but something about a 40-trying-to-look-20-years-old woman hitting on me creeps me out.  B: We only escaped from Home Sweet Hell a couple of days ago.  I’ll wait a few more days at least before I start flirting with girls out here.  A faint smile crossed 175’s face.  How much does anybody want to bet that little fact hasn’t stopped either of those guys?  As quickly as it had appeared, the smile disappeared.  If they’re still alive.

175 blinked his eyes at the thought of the two X5s that had been his friends.  They better be okay.  They better be out here somewhere.  Odds are that 494 is probably fine, he was already out on some kind of assignment when the facility burned to the ground, but what about 510?  I saw him that crazy night, our units’ blocks had been next to each others’, but we’d gotten separated during the chaos.  And what about my unit?  They didn’t want to stick around me.  I wanted some of the younger ones, especially 220 and 643, to stay with me.  They agreed, but they lied.  The millisecond that we knew that we were clear, the instant that I’d turned my head so that I could scan the area, the two of them were long gone.  I don’t get it.  Was I that bad of a commanding officer?  Did they hate me?  Did I do something?

He spotted a bench just in front of him and sat down on it.  That’s a load of bull, 175, and you damn well know it.  You did everything you could to be as great a C.O. as you could.  Not just the military aspect of it, you tried to let yourself be there for your unit mates.  If they didn’t care, that isn’t your problem.  I just wish that didn’t mean that it still hurts like hell.  After several more moments, 175 finally got up.  I’ve got to move on from that.  I can’t let it drag me down.  If I run into anybody from my unit, I can and will deal with it then.  In the meantime, I’ve got to start living at least something of a life.

175 turned to look in the window of the store that he was sitting in front of.  The last and only time I was in a music store was when I was on that one mission almost two years ago.  Man, did I wish that I could buy something that time.  It wasn’t until a different assignment later that I was able to sneak back a personal CD player.  He walked inside the store, ducking his head slightly out of habit as he entered, though he still would have gone through without a problem.  He headed towards some CDs and was looking them over silently when he heard somebody approaching him from behind, tensing reflexively once more until realizing that the other person was not a threat.

“Can I help you, man?” a voice asked almost too cheerfully.  175 turned around to see a boy close to his own age standing there eagerly.

“No, thanks,” 175 replied.  “I’m just looking.”  He picked up a CD and examined it.  Bob Dylan…I heard that name before in Pop Culture class back at Manticore.  175 flipped the case over, his eyebrows rising briefly when he noted the date of the original recording.  Wow, talk about pre-Pulse!

“Okay, cool,” the other boy said.  He didn’t make any moves to go away.  “So, man, you graduate from high school last month?”

“Yeah,” 175 lied.  You could say that.

“I’m gonna graduate next year,” the salesperson continued.  “I’ve been working here since the winter.  I am so glad that I have this job.  There’s no way that I’d be able to afford my cell phone otherwise, my mom and dad make such crap.  Then again, who actually has made money since the Pulse?  Not that I’d really remember, I was only about five when that happened but…”

175 finally held up a hand.  “It’s fine.  I mean, I was only six when that happened so I don’t remember much from before then myself.”  It’s not as if life at Manticore changed much if at all when the Pulse hit.  If I didn’t overhear those nurses in the infirmary talking about it when I’d gone in to get treated for the broken leg I’d gotten during Escape and Evade that one afternoon a few days after it’d hit, who knows how long it would have been before I would have found out?

“Okay,” the other boy said.  “Hey, what’s your name?”

175 hesitated.  I don’t have one.  I never did.  I’ve been a number my entire life.  A person, yeah, but a number to those in charge.  I need a name.  He glanced down to the CD that he was still holding and smiled.  “Dylan.  I’m Dylan.”

“Cool, Dylan, I’m Blake,” the salesperson said.  He leaned over and Dylan saw somebody waving for Blake’s attention out of the corner of his eye.  “I’ve got to go.  Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Dylan promised.  He waited for Blake to go over to the customer before smiling and placing the CD back where he’d found it.  Dylan.  I like it.  I have a name.  Dylan couldn’t help laughing a little.  It’s cool.  I’d never felt completely at ease with only having my barcode number and designation to identify me, but I never knew that having my own name would be this awesome.  He turned around and headed back outside.  I’ve got a name…now all I need is some more money, food, an apartment, and most of all…my friends.

TBC