Thankyou as always to Sorrow and Enigma for their encouragement and betaeing…and to Roon, thanks for keeping me motivated.

Disclaimer: The world of DA belongs to James Cameron…I am just putting my spin on it all.

By Rowe

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The changing smell of the night awakes me. My body still remembers all the years of training it was subjected to and it reacts automatically when the dawn approaches. As my mind snaps into consciousness the memories flood back. Groaning I sit up and wish fervently that I could let sleep steal them away again. Too much time had been spent with only my own company now. After a childhood of constant company the abruptness of the severed ties still tears at my heart. I yearn to be with them, for their understanding, for their compassion. They were my unit, the closest thing I had ever had to family. We were a collective of freaky kids existing in a hidden world. Now I am living with questions I have no answers to, and no one to share my doubts and fears with; now I am alone in a world where I don’t belong.

Disciplining my mind to cease the reflection on the past, I concentrate on the preparations that I need to go through. I am still a soldier, that is what I was created to be. It is what I know I have to be. Meditating on the words that I have marked on the wall, words that haunted my childhood but are now my mantra as an adult, I slow my breathing. The mirror reflects back at me my superior physique, I was designed to be like this. The mind exercises allow me to consolidate all my mental and physical training, readying me for the hunt. My focus needs to be honed, my senses will guide me to my prey.

I look over to where he is being held. He also requires considerable preparation. It must be done properly, the sacrifice he is about to make will help me to strengthen her. As I open the door, his eyes show the fear that he is trying very hard to conceal. The scent of his terror increases as he sees how deadly serious I am about my mission. The freshly tattooed skin on the back of his neck is still raw from the needle work. I have become quite adept at accurately reproducing the mark that is mine alone. For it signifies my devotion to her, that I give her a little bit of myself each time I execute the hunt.

As he takes off at a panicked run, I hold myself back. The urge to chase him to ground is nearly overwhelming but I must wait. My quarry needs to be given appropriate time to escape, to make my task worthy of her. I can feel my adrenalin surge in anticipation. A vivid memory surfaces as I wait, of such an abeyance that night we ran that man down as a pack. Our primal selves had been given free rein for the first time. We learned what we truly were, we met the animals inside us all. The exhilaration was intoxicating; it drives me now. I judge that he has had sufficient chance to escape and challenge me in the pursuit.

Letting my senses become attuned to the surrounds I begin to track. My mind is that of a predator. Using all of my instincts I absorb the details around me, and pick up his trail. This one is good. He has made it more difficult for me. His strength will pass to her. I cannot see him but I know I am close. The whistle through the air alerts me just in time. My reflexes save me as I capture the bolt inches from impacting with my body. He has given himself away now and failed in his quest to stop me. Moving abruptly up behind him, I make his death quick and painless. His body slumps to the ground and I bend to begin my true work on his corpse.

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Entering where her statue resides is never easy. I have needed to locate her; needed to find my direction from her, each time I have moved on. The atmosphere is always a little bit oppressive and overwhelming. Usually the place is empty, my visits go largely unobserved. Today there is a few people sitting in quiet contemplation. I ignore their curious glances. I stare straight ahead as I walk down the aisle towards her. In the dim light of the church she emanates a soft glow, drawing me forwards.

I stand at her feet, my head tilted up to study her face. She looks down on me with a look of utter peace. Her serenity washes over me, engulfing me with the only sense of belonging I experience these days. I believe in her, that she will help me if I keep her strong. I place my gifts at her feet; the folded, bloodied cloth hides the true horror of my devotion. My faith in her is all that holds me together. For my belief in the Blue Lady is how I know who I have become.

I feel her presence as she creeps along shadowing me. As I turn to face her, a frisson of delight runs through me; I’d know those eyes anywhere. For they haunt my dreams and belong to the person I have missed most. It is Max. She has grown even more beautiful than the girl in my memories. Her stare tells me everything, as does her question. She knows why I am here but hides the fact deep inside. The fear of me I see in those warm brown eyes is painful, for I am not a monster. I search her eyes for something I can reach, but there is nothing.

My instincts tell me to run. I blur past her. I have the element of surprise on my side and the door shuts quickly, preventing her from following. I leave the church quickly knowing she will try to stop me. As I slow to a walk, my heart stops pounding so loudly in my ears. Maxie’s face contorted in a look of dismay troubles me. Surely she would understand what I am doing. Her reaction makes me question my mission, am I not serving the Lady well?

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Maxie’s doubts have made me doubt myself. Her look of horror makes me seek confirmation. I search for it in the world where the Blue Lady dwells. This is where I may find my answers. For the man in the booth leads others in their faith as I once did long ago. Maybe he can clarify mine.

I approach the confessional door cautiously. Never have I entered one before, but I know of their purpose. I take a seat in the narrow space and reply to the man voice on the other side of the veiled window. The voice of the cleric solemnly asks me to confess to him what troubles me, when we have established a common faith in the Lady. I know what I have done will shock him; taking human life. His answer to my admission surprises me. Somewhere inside, I have contemplated that what I do may not fit into the realm of this society, but he assures me that it does: as I am a soldier, killing is one of the duties that may require me to do. I grasp hold of his words and cling to them to combat my uneasy conscience and niggling doubts.

When I tell him of my fear that she may have forsaken me, his quiet words of conviction salve my disquiet. With a tone of certainty, he assures me that she is always there for those that have faith in her. He tells me that he is her servant, that she helps him. A flicker of satisfaction hits me as his words confirm that I am not the only one who believes she is real, that she exists. His faith is as steadfast as mine is.

"We have to put our lives in her hands." His words of conviction act to trigger my purpose in my mind. I choose to take them literally. I give him a veiled warning of my intentions.

"Then you have nothing to be afraid of."

I punch effortlessly through the grill and take hold of him by the throat. His faith will prove the test of my mission. His faith will make her strong or she will save him. I see that this is a situation in which I can not lose. My focus has returned

Like the others he must be prepared. First I must make him understand; he must want to live, to be willing to take me if it comes to that. For him I feel some compassion. He is not a violent man. Mentally he is unprepared for what I ask of him. I assure him that I will make him ready; ready to kill for her, ready to die for her. For I will make him my judge and jury. He can stop me with her help, if his faith is strong enough.

The gun I throw him has the bullet clip removed. It is my intention for him to have to commit to this course of action. His snapping the clip into place signifies that he is ready to do what is necessary. His desperation was what I was looking for, a will to fight to survive. Now he is ready for my mark.

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High places still attract me, a hangover from my childhood or encoded in my genes, I am not sure. The Space Needle allows me to look down on the vast world below. It is a world of contradictions and conflictions that I need her to keep me safe in. Surveying the city one last time, I turn to enter back into my reality to carry out my self-appointed task. For faith needs to be tested, the Father’s belief in her should be tested. I have left him locked in contemplation of his last hours as I go to the High Place to contemplate what may be mine. As always my life will be in her hands.

As I step back through the window frame onto the main deck, she blind sides me. Taking me down to the floor, shackling my wrist before I have time to respond. Seeing her sitting over me makes all the memories flood back. I was always drawn to her. Now I have found her, I need her to understand. Of all people, she is the one I want to share this with. She used to believe in me. I watch her look of revulsion as she tells me what she knows of my actions. The girl has been keeping tabs on me and she is not happy.

Verbally I carry her back; back to the night that I know none of us will be able to forget. To the feelings of anticipation and the thrill of the hunt the drove us all. I see her fighting it. Denying it. Denying the sensation of power that night gave us. Yet it was that power that led to our escape. It gave us the knowledge of what we really could do, it even scared the Colonel.

"Don’t tell me you don’t wake up with the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears."

Her face shows the fear of what is inside her, of the inner core that is the predator. I keep pushing her, wanting her to acknowledge what we really are is not human.

"You are like a wolf in sheep’s clothing Max."

Her face is a mask of tragedy. I am something that reminds her of what she has tried so hard to forget; that she is Manticore and we can never run from what we are inside.

"You’re hiding your instincts, every minute of the day, so no one will know what you really are. A soldier, a hunter,…a killer." I shove my knife of truth in and twist it.

As her fist connects with my jaw, I see that I have finally connected with her. The coppery taste of blood in my mouth makes me smile. I taunt her for her weakness, which I realise is a mistake. For she will never let me win.

Putting distance between us she begins her counterattack. Having hit a truth within her that hurts with my taunts she retaliates with her own salvo of recrimination. She attacks me with words this time. She wants to break me down till I am helpless; attacking my faith, my mission and ultimately my sanity. Her greatest weapon is my own fear of what I may have become, one of those that terrified us, a nomolie.

She has it all wrong with her amateur psych assessment of my actions. I am flippant at her attempt to delve into my mind. My motive is never to kill myself but to make spiritual sacrifices of who I am to the Lady. When I tell her this she scoffs at my naivety; but the father has strengthened my belief in her. Her disbelief wounds me deeply. She is no longer the girl I knew, but I still want this stranger to understand. I need my unit, I need her. I don’t want to be alone anymore. How could she have lost her faith? How could she have become so cold and cynical?

I want her to know how the decision to run was wrong. We should never have been let loose in the world. We should have stayed where we belonged and where we could be truly ourselves.

"We never should’ve left. Everything made sense there."

I need her to understand my regrets. Leaving Manticore only brought me confusion. There we knew what to be. She violently rejects everything we were born and raise to believe. I embrace it for the comfort it brings me.

"I am a good soldier." I need to reassure her, reassure myself that I am not a nomolie.

"I try so hard." Her final gentle touch is my undoing. Tears fall.

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She drags me back to my lair, a broken man. All through the night she has confronted me with her disappointment. In the light of this new day, I am so unsure of what is right or wrong now. Leading her to him is what she insists is right. Her sympathy is firmly now with my captive. Throwing me roughly down, she moves to let the cleric free. I am discarded and forgotten, allowing me to absorb my familiar surrounds; this is her first mistake. The scrawled words that have long helped me to remember who I am jolt me with a renewed sense of purpose, for I am once again reminded of what is my duty. Her second and greatest mistake is to turn her back on me, underestimating me as a threat. We were taught better than that. I use her inattention to this detail to my advantage.

All the doubts are swept away. I have a mission to complete. It is to serve the Blue Lady, to prove my worthiness, to keep her strong. The confusion that Max has wrought in my mind with her heretic words and frightening accusations begins to recede. It leaves me clearly focused on one thing, the hunt and kill. I tense my body and prepare myself for attack. She must not know my intention for I must use the advantage of surprise.

Jumping agilely to my feet, I move rapidly up behind her. With my shoulder I force her forward, it pushes her deeper into the makeshift cell. Fluidly I transfer my shackled hands from behind my back to my front. Reaching into the cell before Max can respond, I grab the Blue Lady’s servant and pull him out. I slam and lock the door to prevent her interference. From inside her makeshift prison she shouts to him, she instructs him to run. Her desperation and fear for his life are strong in her voice. I second this with a warning tone in mine. I have no time to prepare myself as I normally would, to seek my full mental focus. Logic dictates that I should be trying to escape and evade Max no, running for my own salvation. Yet, this is my most important challenge to my faith, one I cannot run from. Time is short and I know Max will manage to free herself and find us. Hopefully I will manage complete my mission before she does.

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The damp forest holds no secrets from me. I read it and the subtle signs of my quarry’s flight can be detected. My pursuit is swift and ruthless. Knowing Max will not be far behind spurs me on. There would be no time to enjoy the feelings this thrill of the chase evoked. The smell of his fear is now reaching me. My nostrils flare as I take in the pungent odour. In the near silence, I can faintly make out the sounds of his footfall in the distance. I turn towards an intercept trajectory and move in for the kill.

Stepping in front of him to block his path, I stop my quarry in his headlong flight. Disappointedly, he has not been hard to recapture. Awkwardly he stumbles before me to a halt. His latent fight instincts kick in and he swings his arm in an attempt to hit me. Effortlessly I block it and swat his feeble attempt away. The look on his face tells me he finally understands the true nature of his peril. There is no need for my superior physical strength as my limited combat training still gives me a more than unfair advantage. She appears to have abandoned him, as I had feared she had abandoned me.

I hear Max’s cautious approach as I hold my captive to the ground. In a pathetically obvious attempt to get me to release him, she humours me that we can find someone better, more worthy of my faith. I know that I can’t let this man go, for this is my only chance to make her see. My hopes that the thrill of the chase has been able to reawaken her inside are shattered as she launches herself gracefully into the air and plants her boots on my chest. Her attack, while not totally unexpected, surprises me with its intensity. She sends my prey to safety and prepares to prevent my following him. He stops a little way of debating whether he should stay to help her but realises he would be useless and heeds her cry to flee. This is between us now.

We circle slowly, assessing and preparing for battle. Feet and hands crushing, impacting with a force that could kill an ordinary instantly. Bloody and vicious, we fight like the deadly wild animals we were bred to be. Far more deadly for the training we were subjected to learn to use our abilities. So long has it been since I had fought and not known I could easily win. I finally believe I am gaining the upper hand. She is slightly faster but I am definitely stronger. We are well matched. I am being brutal but I know she can take it. My kick sends her into the tree boll and I move in to pin her down; to attempt to reason with her.

Unexpectedly she kicks out and breaks my standing leg viciously. Flesh rips and the bone is shattered. The pain is horrific as I collapse to the ground in disbelief. She is stronger than I am, not physically but in her ability to inflict pain on those she loves. Does she still love me? The confusion and doubt in my eyes must have gotten through her defences for she moves to cradle me. I look up into her face and see the horror at what she has done written clearly there. Her eyes plead with me to forgive her. I feel the shock of what has happened begin to shake my body.

The sound of dread approaching frightens us both. The net is being tightened around us and escape will be hazardous for even an able bodied transgenic. I know what this means but she is slow to comprehend. When she does I see she still loves me. Though Manticore is where I wished we had stayed, I know that it has no place for me now. Death is preferable to what my return would entail. I don’t want to be sent away to the basement to live with those creatures that should only exist in nightmares. Or maybe worse, deeply repressed memories of the torturous things they had been capable of doing in the name of science surface to increase my panic. For me, Max must take her love one step further. My terror grows until she signals her reluctant acceptance. She wants me to recount my tales of the Good Place, and I start the story. With relief I begin to feel the pinch on the back of my neck tightening as I lay in her arms. As the darkness takes over I finally surrender to the nightmare.