X-Men belong to Marvel. Dark Angel belongs to James Cameron. We aren't making a profit.

Previous parts can be found at FF.net or at Karen's webpage at http://www.oocities.org/textualchemy

Feedback would rock.

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AVENGING ANGELS

BY LOMAS AND KAREN

PART TWO

'SHOOTING THE MESSENGER'

Donald Lydecker noticed the glare of the trailing headlights almost immediately. A quick look in his mirrors told him the black van was still behind him. He grunted sourly. He first noticed his pursuers in the city. He had made a quick supply run, planning to see what else he could find out about those pictures with the Manticore symbol. Evidently, there were things that were being hidden from him and he wanted answers, but he had not counted on having these jokers set on him.

He would give them this - they had managed to stay with him once he had altered course from his original heading, and started moving through the city in a non sensible pattern, going through as many heavily populated areas he could find in the hope that they would lose him.

They had not, and it was starting to irritate him.

He took another quick look into his rear-view mirror. They were still there, keeping at a set distance, no matter where he went. He had considered making a run for it, but he was willing to bet they expected him to do that, and had a backup plan.

That’s what he would have done, were he in their position. He would have had all exits to the city locked down, or at least, had sealed off the sector. Could it be Manticore behind him? He quickly dismissed the idea. He would have noted similarities in the way they operated, and so far, there was nothing. He would have also had spotted backup already, he knew what to look for, but there was nothing he could see. Besides, he doubted Manticore would have been operational so quickly after the blowup.

Chances were Manticore was completely shut down now. All the attention in the tabloids was not doing them any favours. No, this was someone else, and it was time to find out who, and what the hell they wanted with him.

Lydecker opened his glove compartment, and took a cherry-flavoured lollipop out, ripping the wrapper off with his teeth before popping it into his mouth. He took his pistol off the passenger seat, and made it disappear inside his black trench coat.

“Time for another change in course, boys,” he growled before making a right. It was not long before he passed the No Entry signs, heading straight for the Terminal City Industrial Area, the black van still following him.

He floored the accelerator, the engine of his Jeep roaring to life, darting in between two abandoned, broken factory buildings. The roar of an engine behind him told Lydecker his pursuers were still behind him. Yanking the wheel to a controlled hard right, he drove in between another two abandoned buildings.

Lydecker risked a quick glance back; his pursuers were still behind him.

He pressed the accelerator harder, the engine whining more fiercely in protest. Broken buildings zoomed past him at breakneck speed, but Lydecker saw there was a dead end looming up ahead, the headlights of his hunters looming ever larger in his rear-view mirror. It was obvious they saw it too.

He was trapped…

Like hell was he going to be herded in by a herd of rookies. A growl deep in his throat, Lydecker swung his car left, hoping it would lead to more room, and a way out, but all that he found was the huge grey wall looming up in front of him.

He pumped the brakes furiously, the smell of burning rubber thick in his nose, but he was never going to avoid impact. Everything exploded into the sound of shattering glass and twisting, agonised metal…

---

The black van drew up close to the wreck of scarred and twisted metal, the engine dropping into a patient idle. The headlights reflected coldly off the broken machine in front of it, the shattered glass of the splintered windshield transforming black tarmac to a ghastly montage of galaxy and stars.

The doors to the van opened, with two men stepping out into the night. They were dressed in tight fitting combat suits; the automatic firearms they carried were cocked and readied. They shared a communicative glance and split up, surrounding the wreck of Lydecker’s car, slowly closing in like predators. The soldier on the left hand side of the car moved in first, covered by his partner. Shouldering his weapon, he tore open the front door, his mouth billowing in wisps of vapour and effort. Taking his weapon in hand, he looked into the wrecked drivers’ compartment, only to find a few splatters of blood on the seat, courtesy of the crash.

“He’s not here. Damn it, the son of a bitch is not here!” The soldier moved away quickly, sweeping his firearms in a quick arc, hurriedly scanning the area.

“How the fuck can that be? We checked! No damned way he could have gotten out. Should have spotted it.” the second soldier snapped back, quickly checking the passenger side of the wrecked vehicle.

“He’s not here either. Shit! How’d he gotten out?” Frustration was clearly evident in the voice of the second soldier. “Damn it! Call for backup, order a search. We have to find him.”

The first soldier felt the cold steel against the back of his head before he heard the icy voice

“No need to call out the cavalry, kiddies. I’m right here.”

Lydecker pointed the second pistol in his free hand at the second soldier, growling, “Toss it away, before you make best friends with *his* brains.”

He jammed the first pistol into the back of the head of his first captive more viciously, extracting a grunt of pain.

“Do it!” Lydecker snapped.

The gunman dropped his weapon.

“Good job, Meanie. Now your turn, Eanie,” Lydecker’s command was met with the clatter of metal on tarmac as the gun dropped to the ground. He grunted his satisfaction.

“You get over here with him.” Lydecker growled, mentioning to the second soldier t join them. Lydecker herded the two men away from their weapons and vehicle, backing them up against a broken down wall, the barrels of his pistols never leaving their target.

“You, Eanie. Who’s after me, and why?”

Eanie spat at Lydecker, snarling, “The Conclave will not let you get away with this, you fuck!”

Lydecker smiled coldly, his eyes ice.

“Wrong answer.”

The gunshot echoed loudly off the walls as Lydecker pulled the trigger, sending a bullet smashing through Eanie’s right shoulder, shattering bone in a shower of gristle and blood. Eanie crashed to the ground thickly, clutching his shoulder, blood oozing darkly from the entrance wound.

“You bastard! You son of a bitch!” Eanie piped, his voice shocked.

“One more word, and it’s the left.” Lydecker hissed. Eanie shut up, reduced to a trembling heap, whimpering in pain.

“You going to do better Meanie?” Lydecker snapped.

Meanie stood against the wall, swallowed hard, but said nothing.

“Lets hope so.” Lydecker said, aiming at Meanie’s right leg, “Now, who is after me? Who is this Conclave, and what do they want with me?”

“The Conclave is simply the Conclave. That is enough for you.” Meanie answered, his voice a challenging hiss.

Warning bells went off inside Lydeckers’ head. Meanie had just seen his partner shot, crippled, his shoulder probably never to be the same again. He should have been ready to shit bricks on demand, yet he did nothing. He just taunted him instead. Judging by how quickly Eanie shut up, they were just human. They were playing for time.

Perhaps they had backup after all, and he could not risk finding out.

Calmly, Lydecker walked up to Meanie, jamming the muzzle of his one pistol right underneath the man’s chin. Meanie just glared at him, or tried to.

“Meanie, listen well. You tell your Conclave to back off. Anyone, anyone, they send after me, will be neutralised, is that clear?

“You’re a dead man Lydecker.” Meanie growled, spitting violently into Lydecker’s face.

Lydecker didn’t move to wipe the thick spit from his face, pulling himself closer to Meanie instead.

“Really now?”

Lydecker sent a bullet tearing through Meanie’s right leg, sending him down into a bloody heap followed a bellow of pain. Lydecker stepped away, grimacing at the mess. A quick look told him the bullet had torn into the artery; Meanie’s bleeding was thick and fast.

And they were neutralised, for now.

“Remember now Kiddies, you’re in Terminal City. If you don’t bleed to death, the radiation will kill you in a couple hours if you plan on staying here. Choice is yours. Stay, die of overexposure. Walk, and you bastards might just not bleed to death. Be good now.”

Scooping up their firearms quickly, Lydecker quickly moved backwards, never letting his eyes off them. It would have been ideal to take their vehicle, but it was probably bugged, and he didn’t exactly have the time to go bug hunting. Grunting, ignoring the soreness of his muscles, Lydecker made quick distance between himself and the two soldiers, turning to look at them one last time, and send a burst of automatic fire into the van’s gas tank

The explosion was instant.

Shielding himself behind broken down building debris, Lydecker gasped at the hot air. Perhaps Eanie and Meanie had made it to the van, and to their doom, perhaps not. Not that it really mattered. What mattered right now was getting away, making sure he was not being followed, again.

Like a wraith, Lydecker disappeared into the night, leaving the blazing wreck of the van behind him, along with the two crippled soldiers.

---

Lydecker winced painfully at the sharp sting just above his left eye. He had injured himself during the crash, but considering all he had to deal with was a slight cut and a few bruises…

Lydecker smiled coldly. Chances were Eanie and Meanie were not that fortunate. If they were, his message was sure to get across. Lydecker only shrugged at himself, carefully placing a plaster over the cut on his eye. He never liked to kill, and took no pleasure in it. It was a task, and oft times, a necessity.

That was the difference between a good soldier, and a cold-hearted killer. A soldier killed when he had to, not when he wanted to. But none of that mattered now, Lydecker thought to himself, as he put away the plaster in his knapsack.

What mattered now was that he knew he was being followed. He could not risk going back to his apartment. He might have some unwanted guests waiting. This motel room he had rested for the evening would have to do. He would go to one of the few emergency points he had in the city, apart from Manticore of course.

Once he had gathered what he needed, he would leave Seattle, perhaps disappear in New York for a little while, until all of this settled down. It was one thing finding out there was possibly more behind Manticore than he had thought, but it was another when your life was in danger. Lay low, and come back hard when you have been forgotten. Or perhaps just disappear for good…

That was a worry for tomorrow, Lydecker thought as he closed the curtains to his window, checking yet again if the doors were locked. The motel room seemed to be secure. Even so, Lydecker patted the pistol next to him on the pillow; also making sure his bayonet was within arms’ reach if he needed it.

Fours hours of sleep, and then he’d be gone. By 6 AM, he wanted to have Seattle a couple of hours behind him.

---

Lydecker’s eyes flew open, his skin feeling as though it were on fire. There was … something here, something dangerous. Over the years, Lydecker had learnt to trust his instincts, those same instincts that had jarred him awake now. He skilfully rolled off the bed, dropping into a crouch, his pistol in his hand.

Even as Lydecker waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the motel room, glass shattered with a heavy boom as a heavy object blasted through the window, landing on the motel room floor with a heavy crunch. Even as Lydecker had his gun trained on the first object, a second followed it, landing on the first.

Lydecker’s senses were stretched to breaking point, his pistol trained on those shapes, ready to fire the instant there was movement. Still keeping his gun on his targets, Lydecker quietly moved to the window, ignoring the sharp bite of hungry glass shards on his exposed feet, sparing a quick glance to the window, where the billowing curtains blew mockingly, revealing nothing more than glimpses of the night outside.

Lydecker stepped outside the shattered window slowly, quickly scanning the surrounding area, like a predator on the prowl, but somehow, he knew the threat was gone. His senses were no longer screaming at his for attention. He padded softly inside, marking his passage with bloodied footprints, but this time being more cautious not to injure himself any further, approaching the still mounds lying on the floor. With his eyes more attuned to the weak light of night now, Lydecker noticed a few things about the heaps on his floor. Even though they were horribly twisted, mangled, there was no denying what they were, or was. Men. More precisely, the corpses of some of his “old friends”. Lydecker rolled over one corpse with his foot gingerly, just to make sure.

The dead, open eyes of Eanie stared back at him, the face of the corpse contorted into an expression of utter horror.

“Whoever did this, did their work well.” Lydecker thought to himself, disgustedly. He hadn’t done this. It was never his intention, having planned to use the two men as a warning to the Conclave to back off. A living warning, if he could have had it that way. Obviously, someone else had gotten to them in the meantime, and took their time doing their work, and this time, the message was directed at him. Of that, the protruding knife with the bloodied note impaled in Eanie’s chest, assured him.

Lydecker yanked the knife out of Eanie’s chest wetly, identifying it as a standard throwing knife, if not a very good one. Whoever had used it hadn’t planned to keep it. The smell of coppery blood heavy in his nostrils, Lydecker surveyed his note, a plain, white sheet of paper with a message spelt out to him from newspaper headline cut-outs.

“Hello Lydecker. Pleased to meet you. Hope you like your gifts.”

Lydecker turned the note over in his hands, staining them red, but that brief message was all there was. He read it over again, looking more closely for clues, hidden military code, anything, but he knew he was grasping at straws. The intent of the note was clear enough. He was being followed, watched, and warned, but the corpses lying a few inches from his, bodies broken, mangled, faces contorted in fixed expressions of fear and pain, told his all he really needed to know. It was only a matter of time until it was his turn. His assailant had decided to make a game of it. A very morbid one.

Lydecker withdrew from the corpses on the floor. He had already learnt all there was to learn. Evade, regroup, disappear. Time to do just that. Moving to his bed, Lydecker grabbed his black leather duffel bag. He padded to the bathroom, drawing warm water, getting ready to disinfect his feet, pulling what shards of glass he could out. Putting shoes on were going to be a bitch, he thought darkly to himself, placing his feet into the warm water of the bath, ignoring the clear water being stained to a rosy pink colour, along with the pain of warm water scouring over his wounds. He lavishly poured some disinfectant into the water, pulling his cell phone from his bag.

He knew using it was a risk, but there was no helping it now. Just as dialling this number was. But he had run out of options long ago. His thumb racing over the keypad, Lydecker hit the dial key, the sound of a ring tone buzzing dully in his ears.

There was a sharp click as the line was opened from the other side.

“Hello?” A sleep-filled voice asked. “Who is this?”

“Logan, it’s Lydecker. I need to talk to Max.”