HIDDEN ORIGINS
The OCC
“The escape was not my idea. I mean, escape to what? We didn't know anything else. It was Zack who said we had to leave. So, I guess he saved my life. I didn't think we should separate. But he wouldn't listen. And I never even got a chance to thank him.”-Max, X5-452
~What Lies On the Surface~
Undisclosed location approximately 35 miles southeast of Seattle
Manticore HQ
Sandeman read over the reports of the latest efforts with an air of maddening silence and boiling irritation. His associates made feeble coughs in attempt, to no doubt, unclog the lump of fear that had lodged itself firmly into their windpipes while fidgeting in their seats.
“Gentlemen,” Sandeman began slowly, the last paragraph already losing his attention. “This is simply unacceptable. And why is that?”
There came the question that couldn’t be possibly answered satisfactorily. It had been almost a year since the terrorist attack, and a couple of years since the facility was compromised in Gillette, Wyoming. Since then, little headway had been made in capturing the XSeries subjects. It was a frustrating ordeal, one that continually tested Sandeman’s resolve not to order a public sweep of Seattle and put down anyone – anyone – that may have been suspect to colluding with the renegades.
There was also Eyes Only, whose interference had not gone unnoticed and constant meddling in the affairs of the city and state that made Sandeman weary of their eventual discovery so close to Seattle. He knew it would only be a matter of time before that nuisance of a political group came poking into this neck of the woods, and no doubt fire off as many warnings as they could air. Their involvement in the attack at Gillette had placed a certain yearning to exact revenge on the mystery man that led Eyes Only, personally.
And last but certainly not least was Abstergo. Twice now they had claimed “no involvement” in the disappearance of two X6 soldiers on reconnaissance at the outskirts of Sector 10. Granted, each time was at different places, different times, but the fact that Abstergo had their own experimental XSeries subjects after their ‘friendly exchange’ sent alarms klaxons all over Sandeman’s mind. Who knew what else those snakes had in store for them?
His exterior expression however exuded a calm but expectant demeanor. “Well gentlemen? It’s been months. More renegade XSeries appear and disappear off our – what is claimed to be state-of-the-art – surveillance grids; Eyes Only is no doubt helping them, and Abstergo is hot on our heels. Someone explain to me why this has happened!” He slammed his fist against the black polished table, the impact of his hand made a shallow dent upon it. Sandeman’s associates jumped, and the smell of fear reeking off them was enough to make him gag in disgust. The silence was most infuriating and with no answer imminent, Sandeman had had enough.
Making a derisive noise in the back of his throat at the pathetic sight in front of him, he punched a key command in and the screen behind him came to life. On it was a map of Seattle, their current position, and topographic details and notes of other information for his use only. “I want a recon team out in this city. Since the State isn’t letting us flush them out like we would prefer, we’ll do it slowly and methodically. If Eyes Only can sneak through that sorry force Seattle PD call checkpoints; we can plant our men in and get them one XSeries at a time. Pick those in the XSeries and any other personnel you deem suitable for this take. Make Abstergo your coinciding primary concern also; the last we need is for those damned bastards to get another one of our property.”
Seattle, Sector 3
February 20, 2016
Aiden/X5-458
Seattle was its usual gloomy self today. The weather was cold and wet as always, and from the looks of the dark grey skies that hovered with the promise of a deluge, it was going to be a day spent under a raincoat, an umbrella, or a stack of newspapers to keep your head dry. For Aiden, he would have preferred if it was a day spent in doors, in bed, and let the day go by in peaceful silence, to hear the water drop upon the ceiling and the windows without the barking orders of any of Lydecker’s adjutants; maybe even feel the cold creep in while wrapped in blankets and not hugging yourself in the rain out in the woods at midnight silently begging to go back in to keep your teeth from shattering to pieces. And then there were thoughts of Matt and the absence keenly made aware in the tiny apartment. It came almost audible at times, especially the last memory Aiden had of him, the image of Matt going back to create a diversion along with an X3 who couldn’t so much as breathe unless he (It? Thing?) was submerged in fresh water. That was the last he saw of them, disappearing into the night and echoes of gunfire and shouting intermixed with the roar of engines, adrenaline and the freezing cold. It left a hole in Aiden to leave him, and that hole became wider and more noticeable during such quiet times. In order to shake the thoughts of that night from his mind, Aiden had to grudgingly admit that sometimes Manticore’s training did come in handy, like focusing on the primary mission and nothing else. Yet, things changed: life was his primary mission now, and Aiden shook the thought of Matt away and hoped upon whatever was out there that he was alright. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t indoors. Chances were all he’d do was brood anyway.
As it stood, he was cycling his way to work, cutting through a street and hitting a main road that was constantly overcrowded. To call it a road was a definite misnomer. There were the homeless mixed with trailer residents mixed with haphazard booths selling things of dubious quality, mixed with local citizenry on food complete with drivers and bicyclists having to navigate their way through the congestion; and rain threatening to pour down on them all. It was already happening; the first sprinkles were peppering the already wet streets. Aiden rode a little faster where he could manage; he worked at a local diner a couple of miles from where he lived called simply “The Eatery”, place that had been around since before the Pulse – that’s what they called it here in Seattle, Aiden learned. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, The Eatery still held on, though quality had been lacking since then. People still came around, but the crowds seem to change all the time, something Aiden didn’t quite understand why. First it would be ‘normal’ guests, but at night, there were characters of questionable origins walking in with hard faces or distant ghastly ones. It made his job interesting even if he didn’t particularly care for it. But considering his skills (undervalued as they were now) impressed the owner, he was now able to pay for a (very) small apartment and a life that seemed like heaven compared to his time at Manticore.
Not that he couldn’t, and didn’t, exercise his tremendous potential to do more, they were just carried out in a slower pace and only as needed. Aiden had found Eyes Only, (though they would say they found him. He wasn’t quite sure how to make of that) and in turn they gave him a chance to strike back at Manticore. But Aiden was a tad impatient in the way Eyes Only did it, their constant insistence that “It’ll take time”, or better still, “In degrees”. For Aiden, it didn’t seem as though they had much trouble taking down Manticore the first time around; what could possibly stop them from doing so now? Still, he didn’t let his frustrations be known to them, he was just eager to get out whenever called upon.
“You’re late, again.” Came a gruff voice from behind that took him out of his thoughts.
Aiden resisted rolling his eyes. He was only five minutes late. Instead, the X5 turned to face his boss; giving a good ol’ boy smile that was also apologetic complete with an easy lie, “I’m sorry, Mister Alvarez,” Aiden began, he made note to always address the owner and cook with a title (the guy seem to always soften his hard stance because of it), “sector patrol stopped a whole block for some person they were looking for. Wouldn’t let me through even after I told them I work here and offered them a free lunch on my tab. Anyway, I’ll stay an extra 30 to make it up.”
The portly man narrowed his eyes at Aiden, to which the X5 kept his pleasant face on as though the tardiness was a minor forgettable thing. The cook grumbled something Aiden didn’t understand (he was never going to figure out slang) and gestured with his head for the X5 to get to work. “Thanks Mister Alvarez, I appreciate it,” Aiden said, donning a smock across his waist with pad and pen already in.
“Get Mira out for her shift, and then tell Joe he better have my supply shipment in by one. I’m not waiting like I did last time with those god damn sector patrol, bunch of money grubbing sons a bitches,” Alvarez grumbled, shaking a frying pan under a large fire.
“Yes, sir, right on it.”
