Near the Front Gates, Terminal City – Nightfall

An army of wary transgenics had followed Mole’s orders and were assembling
on the roofs, in the alleyways, and in every nook and cranny of Terminal
City, most of them armed with the various weapons that had been assembled
in preparation for just such a showdown.� Alec strode back into the
Command Center to find Logan, with Luke and some other transgenics,
huddled around a TV screen, watching the news coverage.�

“Have you heard from Max?” Alec asked.�

Logan looked up and frowned.� “Nope.� Is it as bad as it looks
on TV?” He motioned with his head toward the commotion outside.�

“Worse,” Alec replied shortly.� “Mole’s preparing
for all hell to break loose.� He’s ready to chop off some heads.”�

“Okay, we can’t wait for Max anymore.� We need a plan.”���

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.� Everyone’s thinking we’re
just a bunch of shoot-em-up commandos, right?”

Logan nodded impatiently.� “Get to the point, Alec.� We don’t
have a lot of time.”

“Mia,” Alec said shortly.� “Remember her?� Well, guess
what, buddy?� Lots more like her right here in our own little psych
ward.”�

Logan nodded again, this time slowly.� “Yeah, you’re right.�
You know who they are?� If you can get to them before Mole does, we
just might be able to get them to work a little magic.”

“We better be able to,” Alec replied, “or the only
magic is going to be that crowd doing a real bloody disappearing
act.”

Outside, Mole crept among the shadows, checking to make sure that
everyone was mobilized as instructed.� A machine gun dangled from a
strap thrown across his shoulder, and he held a rifle against his chest.�
The noise from the protestors just outside the gates grew louder with
every passing moment, and occasionally a flaming bottle would fly over
the fence and land with a resounding crash against the asphalt.�

Mole stepped out into the open space and turned back to the buildings,
where his enhanced vision surveyed the transgenics massed and ready.�
“We have to defend our home against any invasion,” he shouted.�
“This is where we fulfill our destiny as soldiers, and fight for
our freedom.� It’s either us, or them.”� He raised his rifle in
the air, and the armed transgenics responded in kind, their war cry
echoing off the buildings and into the night air.

Command Center

“Okay, Matt.� Thanks for going along with this.� As soon as
I find Max�”

“You found her.”� Logan whirled around to see Max standing
behind him, arms crossed defiantly.� Her hair was messy, her face dirty,
and a tiny rivulet of blood streamed from a long scratch on one cheek.�

“Matt, it’s a go.� Wish us luck.”� With that, Logan clicked
the phone shut.� A look of concern crossed his face as he reached out
to touch her face gently, grazing a darkening bruise.� “What happened
to you?”

She winced and shrugged off his hand.� “Nothing.� Just got into
it with a couple sector cops and some Army guys.� What’s up with Clemente?�
I couldn’t get to him.”�

“Alec has an idea about how to stop this crowd.� He and Joshua
are working on it right now.� I got in touch with Matt so he would let
Clemente know what was going on.”�

Max’s expression didn’t change.� “We gotta be in deep if you’re
listening to Alec,” she remarked.

“We are.� In deep.� Mole’s got a whole damn army on the roof.�
You picked a bad time to try to go it alone, Max.”

“Yeah, well, forgive me if I wasn’t thinking straight.� My friends
are in jail, Joshua’s wanted for murder, and we�re about to be overrun
by an angry mob.� How about we save the lecture for later, and you tell
me what I need to know?” she snapped, staring hard at Logan.

Outside the Front Gates,
Terminal City

“Everyone, listen up!”� One of the ringleaders stood on
several large crates to rise above the gathering crowd.� A megaphone
in his hand served to amplify his voice so all could hear him.�

“It’s time we showed the cops, the military, and these freaks
that we’re not going to let a murderer go free!”� A roar of approval
went up, and several men lifted their guns toward the sky in a show
of support.� “Just remember, they’re animals who won’t hesitate
to kill.� We go in fighting, and we take them out until we find the
werewolf!”�

Inside the gates, Mole listened to the man ramble, and a look of
pure disgust and fury crossed his face as he turned back to his own
army.� “Listen to them,” he said with a derisive laugh.� “We’re
going to tear them to shreds.”�

He turned to several X5s and X6s standing nearby, waiting for his
orders.� “Spread out and update the soldiers at the other perimeters.�
We need to be armed and ready.� They’re going to make their move soon.”�

Suddenly a figure emerged from the shadows.� Joshua walked towards
Mole and held out a hand towards the Xs already starting to move away,
and they stopped, waiting.� “Mole, no.� We are not going to fight.”�

Mole snorted.� “What are you talking about?� We have to fight,
or we’ll die here.”

“No.� If you do this, they will kill us.� Not these people.�
The police.� The government.� Our government.� We will be killers
then.”�

“It’s kill or be killed, Joshua.� Now get out of my way.”�

Mole shoved Joshua, but Joshua stood his ground.� His lips parted
in a ferocious growl, and he grabbed the rifle that Mole started to
lift.� “No, Mole.� I can’t let you do this.���

Suddenly a transgenic appeared behind Joshua.� He looked to be the
age range of the X5s, an attractive male with spiky black hair.� “Mole,
you don’t want to fight those pathetic humans.� Put down the gun and
let’s go have a beer.”� The young man cocked his head slightly
and made eye contact with Mole, holding his gaze as he sent telepathic
thoughts between them.�

Mole just snorted a laugh and yanked his rifle violently out of Joshua’s
hands.� “Sorry, Trey, your hocus-pocus ain’t gonna work on me.�
Good old Manticore didn’t ever tell you the only soldiers human enough
to fall for your voodoo are the Xs?� Go peddle your wares somewhere
else.”

Just then, a loud pop from the front gates made them all turn.� Some
of the protestors had used heavy-duty wire cutters to cut their way
through the fence, and a few were pushing through the hole.� One, a
middle-aged man dressed in leather and denim, had a shotgun, and once
inside, he raised the gun and cocked it loudly.�

Mole cocked his rifle in response, and after a moment, looked back
up towards the roof at the assembled mass of transgenics.� They were
still standing there, but hadn’t assumed a defensive position with the
intrusion.� Instead, most of them had backed off, their weapons lowered.�
A few of them, apparently still loyal to Mole, were being held back
by the others.� Max stood on the edge of the rooftop, hands on her hips,
flanked by the PSYOPs transgenics.

Several long seconds ticked by, but no one moved.� Even the crowd
outside seemed to be frozen, waiting to see what would happen.� Finally,
Mole moved, turning angrily toward the man with the gun until they were
faced off, standing only twenty feet apart.�

“You want me?” Mole asked.� Somehow a cigar was still clamped
between his bared teeth.� “Let’s see what you got, asshole.”�

The man stood his ground, but his grim determination seemed to waver.�
At that second, Mole’s finger started to tighten on the trigger, and
Joshua sprang toward him, knocking him off balance as the gun went off,
the blast ricocheting off the walls of the buildings.� Mole started
to get back on his feet, but Joshua tackled him again, knocking him
out cold with a blow to the head.�

Joshua stumbled to his feet and looked around at the Xs still standing
there, then looked toward the man who had entered Terminal City.� He
still stood there, gun raised, and he now pointed it at Joshua, trembling
in fear.��

“I’m not your enemy,” Joshua told him.� “We are not
your enemies.”�

“That’s him!” yelled the ringleader, still standing on
the crates.� “Kill him!”�

“Nobody’s killing anybody tonight.” Trey stepped forward,
towards the intruder.� At the same time, a few others, clearly PSYOPs,
appeared from the shadows and moved toward the front gates, where the
crowd was pressing forward.�

“I’ve always wanted a gun just like yours,” Trey told the
man calmly.� “May I have it as an early birthday present?”�
His clear green eyes bore into the fearful ones of the man standing
three feet away.�

A look of confusion crossed the older man’s lined face.� He rubbed
his stubbly chin thoughtfully, and then lowered his rifle.� “Sure,
but will you do me a favor and kill that dogman?� He shouldn’t be allowed
to roam the streets.� I got a family to protect, you know.”

“I know you’re afraid, but Joshua won’t hurt anyone.� He’s not
a threat to you.� He’s actually a very nice person.� Joshua, say hi
to this nice gentleman,” Trey said, waving Joshua over to them.�

As that was happening, the other PSYOPs transgenics had moved to
the front gates, where other rioters had been forcing their way in and
banging and clamoring against the gates, cursing and shouting.� The
crowd had been quieted somewhat by watching the standoff transpire,
but as the man handed over his weapon, they began to yell angrily.�
Those who had made it inside the gates raised their guns and started
to move stealthily towards the group.�

Trey handed the rifle he’d been given to Joshua and walked towards
the approaching mob.� He signaled with his eyes to the other PSYOPs
transgenics, and it was clear that they were communicating thoughts
to each other.� Trey looked back at three men with guns raised, and
calmly said, “You should be scared to death of all these soldiers,
men.� Turn around now and go home to your families.� Don’t come back
here.”� He looked from one to the other and back again, and within
a few seconds, the men lowered their guns, glanced at each other in
confusion, then turned around and headed quickly back to the hole in
the fence they’d entered through.�

Two female PSYOPs transgenics headed for the front gates, where one
female rioter promptly spit into one of their faces.� The woman simply
wiped her cheek and stared intently into the woman’s eyes, until the
woman averted her gaze to the ground, and stopped screaming obscenities.�
All across the crowd, the transgenics worked their psychological magic,
person by person.

Frustrated, the ringleader watched as the crowd gradually quieted
and some people started to walk away.� “Guess I’ll have to do it
myself,” he said, and reached inside his coat pocket, bringing
out a handgun.� He raised both hands to steady the gun, and took aim.�

From her rooftop perch, Max caught sight of the man on the raised
platform, but it was too late.� “Joshua!” she screamed.

Joshua heard Max’s cry and whirled around as the gun went off. His
movement was just enough to save his life, as the bullet tore into his
arm.� He let out a half-growl, half-shriek and fell.� Max looked back
at Alec, who waved at her to go, and she grabbed a drainpipe on the
edge of the building, shimmying down to the ground in record time.

She headed over to Joshua, kneeling beside him.� Checking the bullet
wound, Max saw that the wound was serious but not life-threatening.�
She glanced up then to see Clemente wading through the crowd, holding
up a badge.� The rioters seemed completely subdued, and Max realized
that the PSYOPs transgenics were finally getting through to them. “It’s
about time,” she murmured to herself.

Max stood and looked at Clemente again as Logan and a medic team
approached.� Clemente caught her eye as he flashed his badge and ordered
the ringleader placed under arrest, and they nodded once at each other
with grudging respect.

Outside the Front Gates, Terminal City

“We just received the results of a DNA test we had performed
on evidence from the Annie Fisher murder.� The test conclusively shows
that the DNA does not match that of the canine transgenic formerly
suspected of the crime.”� Clemente held up a hand to shield his
eyes from the blinding glare of the lights being pushed into his face
by the TV news crews covering the makeshift press conference.

The ringleaders of the riot had been arrested, and some others charged
with weapons violations.� Still others had been ordered to disperse,
and now a quieter crowd had gathered to listen to Clemente outside the
front gates of Terminal City.� The transgenics inside the gates were
clearly visible, but the tension from earlier had dissipated, and now
the two populations eyed each other uneasily as Clemente continued to
speak.�

“Consequently, the police department is rescinding its APB of
the canine transgenic.� His DNA has also been shown to be inconsistent
with that found at the scene of several attacks on sector police earlier
this year.� We are looking into reports that a second canine transgenic
was responsible for those attacks, and has since been killed.

“A military police battalion is being stationed around Terminal
City to dissuade any further civilian attacks.� The 11pm curfew is being
reinstated across the city.� Anyone out after that time will be arrested.�
I’m not taking questions now, but I will hold a more official press
conference tomorrow to update the citizens of Seattle on this unfolding
situation.� That’s all.”� Clemente was instantly surrounded by
the uniformed police officers, who acted as a shield against the reporters
shouting questions at him.� They waded through the crowd to the unmarked
police car, and Clemente climbed in.�

Matt Sung smiled at him, tucking his cell phone back into his jacket
pocket.� “Good work, Commander.”�

“Tell me you have good news.”�

“I’ve arranged the meeting.”���

Panic Room, Terminal City � Saturday, November
6

Max and Logan sat edgily in front of the computer monitor in the
panic room, and looked up as Matt Sung’s and Ramon Clemente’s faces
appeared onscreen.� “Clemente,” Max said warily.

“Max,” Clemente replied just as warily.� His gaze landed
on Logan.� “Mr. Cale, I presume?”�

Logan gave a short nod but said nothing.�

“Amazing how you got all this set up for us from inside Terminal
City.� You must have resourceful � and loyal � friends,” Clemente
remarked.

“I must,” Logan said shortly.

“So, Clemente, you have this DNA tested in Siberia, or what?”
Max asked.� “Cause I gotta tell you, if not, you might want to
have a talk with your people about job performance.”

Clemente let out a mirthless laugh.� “Hard to find good help
these days.� No harm, no foul � your boy’s in the clear, right?� And
now everyone knows it.”

“Joshua,” Max called, and Joshua came out from behind a
door and approached slowly.� Clemente seemed taken aback, though he
tried not to show it.� “Clemente, this is Joshua.� Joshua, Clemente.”�

Joshua, his left arm in a sling, walked toward the computer and sat
in the chair that Max pulled up for him, as Logan pushed back out of
the way.� Clemente seemed to search the transgenic’s face for sign of
the ferocity he’d seen on the video clip.� “Joshua,” Clemente
said simply.�

He included Max again in his piercing gaze.� “I think you should
know.� Acting on an anonymous tip phoned in last night, we tested the
DNA of Ames White � maybe you know him � against what we found on Annie
Fisher.� And what do you know?� A perfect match.”

Max flicked a questioning smile at Logan, then a more reassuring
one toward Joshua.� “So what now?”

Clemente smiled serenely.� “Now we look for him, although the
man seems to have disappeared off everybody’s radar screen.� Don’t suppose
you folks know where we might look?”

Max shrugged.� “Try the local dump.� That’s where all the garbage
is.”

Clemente stifled a laugh, but his grim look quickly returned.� “I’m
very grateful for your help with the situation last night.� I think
it will go a long way toward convincing the right people that this thing
has to end.� Sooner, rather than later.”

Max cleared her throat.� “First things first.� I want my friends
out of the slammer.”�

Clemente nodded. �”That’s an interesting story.� An Agent Martin
of the NSA had gotten us some pretty hard evidence.� But somehow, the
evidence has disappeared from our lock-up.� And when I called the NSA
� well, surprise, surprise, they’ve never even heard of an Agent Martin.�
In fact, the NSA has been officially in the doghouse since your buddy
White testified before Congress.

“So, we’ve had no choice but to release your friends.� But I
will warn you that there are people � above me and out of my control
� who will be watching them, so I’d advise them to be very careful,
if I were you.”�

Logan cast a brief, mysterious smile at Matt, but said nothing.�
Max�s gaze returned to Clemente and her mouth hardened.� “So, how
are you planning to get us out of here?� What about the feds?� The Army?�
They want us all dead or back in a cage.”�

Clemente nodded.� “I can make the deal.� Smile, Max.� Things
are looking up.��

END OF ACT IV