The Game #10
Edited by Karen Leigh
Dustin looked at Cory. Cory had been waiting for the right moment and grinned tiredly when the early morning crew slipped off for an unofficial coffee break before their supervisors arrived.
"Let's go," he said to Dustin. Dustin nodded, and followed.
"Now what?" Cory walked casually out the now-open dock door and up through the parking area. He slowed to allow Dustin to walk alongside him and smiled at him tiredly.
"We'll head up to the road and get the hell over to the Sheraton."
Dustin nodded weakly. "Yeah... A hotel sounds good about now."
Cory nodded in weary agreement. "Yeah ... here," he turned back up past the Castle. "We'll cut over to the road and catch a cab."
Cory acquired a taxi easily and pulled Dustin inside with him. "Take us to the Sheraton, please," he instructed the driver. He stared blindly out the window of the moving cab, one arm firmly around Dustin's shoulders. "Jesus, I don't want to do that again any time soon." He paid the driver without a thought when they arrived at the Sheraton. When he realized what he'd done he stopped in shock. "Hellfire," he complained to Dustin, "I'm even more tired than I realized.
Dustin laughed. "Sorry?" He got out of the cab.
"Forget it," Cory mumbled. He led the way up to the desk, asking very nicely for a room with a hot tub. He was royally pissed when the clerk informed them he'd just give the last one away.
"Damn," said Dustin and pounded the counter.
"His name was Pierson, wasn't it?" Cory asked the desk clerk.
"How did you know that?" asked the clerk.
"He's my brother, that's why," said Cory. He allowed the clerk to assign them a room on the same floor as his "brother". "Come on, Dustin," he said almost cheerfully. "We have to go let our brothers know we've arrived." He was already smiling at the thought of calling Methos and waking his sorry ass up.
Dustin followed Cory, smiling weakly. "Same time, same place? Different hot tub."
Once they arrived at the room, Cory looked longingly at the phone. Then he looked even more longingly at the bed. The bed won. He collapsed with a moan and held his arms out to Dustin.
"Sleep?"
Dustin flopped onto the bed. "Mmmm...You're good to me..."
Cory rolled over against Dustin and wrapped himself around him. Dustin pulled Cory close, feeling his warmth.
"Course I am," Cory smiled. "You're just irresistibly cute."
"And so," Dustin said, kissing Cory's nose, "are you." Cory wrinkled said nose. Dustin wrinkled his nose right back, attempting to look even cuter than Cory, who looked up at Dustin through his lashes and smiled. "We're going to sleep now. We can play mirror tomorrow."
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Mac Ramsey steadied the sunglasses on his nose, and turned to look for his traveling companion. Victor was nowhere in sight, and sighed, and sank down onto a bench seat to await his return.
Damn, he hated airports. He hated to visit the US and, most of all; he hated the idea of searching for a whole bunch of Victor look-a-likes. Why they'd been sent in hadn't been explained to him, and he was hoping that Vic would have some information for him before they got out of this damned airport.
He checked his watch, and then draped himself over the bench in a more artistic fashion, grinning over the top of the sunglasses at a young woman who was passing, but then spied Victor, harassed and in a hurry, trotting towards him. He lost his cool, so pleased was he to see Vic.
Victor Mansfield was ready to kill something or someone. Not only had the airline lost one of his bags, which meant that he had to make due with only the small carry-on he'd brought, he and Mac hadn't even been allowed to sit together on the flight down to DC. Most people would have been satisfied with the explanation that since the booking was last minute, there were no adjoining seats left, but Vic knew better. The Director could have gotten them seats together if she'd chosen to; the fact that she didn't meant that she was still less than pleased with the way they'd handled their last assignment.
The problem was that it wasn't their fault, dammit! The perp had been insane, which was putting it mildly in Vic's opinion; and, of course, didn't react the way all of that high-tech, in depth analysis she'd made them memorize for the mission had said he would. They were lucky to have gotten out at all; doing so in one piece was nothing short of a miracle.
Which Vic naturally told the Director, along with some other unflattering and, in hindsight, totally unnecessary opinions about his job in general and her in particular. So now, they were stuck in Washington, DC of all places, once again chasing down some wholly implausible scenario that would more than likely turn out to be true.
Victor sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and waited somewhat less than patiently for his turn at the car rental counter. He could feel a massive headache coming on. By the time he'd gotten the car, it was a full-blown Mansfield special; the kind that needed a day in bed in a darkened room and a strong pair of delicate, long-fingered and knowledgeable hands to get rid of.
God, he needed a vacation. He needed a life. Preferably one where he could lie on a private beach all damn day long wearing nothing but suntan oil; being fed tropical fruit and screwed out of his mind by a lanky, gorgeous, devoted slave boy as bare and oiled as himself for the rest of his life. With absolutely no Director in sight either. No women period. Not that he didn't like them, of course, but lately the female of the species had been a royal pain in the ass to deal with, and it seemed to be getting worse as time went on.
Keys finally in hand, he headed towards the waiting area, spying the owner of those virtuoso hands and the long, lean body he'd been dreaming of and craving the entire flight down sprawled across a bench; turning a mega-watt smile on some poor hapless girl walking past. Then the dark velvet eyes caught sight of *him,* and Victor suddenly felt like a rabbit about to be devoured by a starving wolf and it was *good.* Judging by the slight bulge marring the loose cut of the silk trousers his partner was wearing, Mac thought so too.
Victor smiled. He knew exactly how to get rid of his headache. Brushing past his partner, he muttered, "Come on, baby. Time to find out just how cramped these airport bathrooms are."
Mac stood, and moved purposefully after Victor. There were some things that were just too good to miss. They'd only walked a little way when suddenly Mac stopped still in his tracks.
"Uh...Vic..." Waiting for Vic to turn around, he stood and gaped at the other man who was heading towards them. "If you're Victor Mansfield, who the hell is that?"
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Everything hurt...his back, his legs and especially his chest. Tom McLaren set his suitcase down and stretched gingerly, wincing as the movement pulled at his aching chest.
Grumbling absently to himself, "Half an inch to the left and that sonofabitch would have stabbed me in the fucking heart with that needle. I'd probably be dead right now if he had" bending over to pick up the suitcase he winced again, "oww, maybe dead would be better."
Checking the flight boards, Tom closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Cancelled....cancelled...cancelled...cancelled. Everything is either cancelled or delayed due to bad weather. {{::snort:: *This* is not bad weather. *This is a couple of flakes and a little wind. Piece of cake. Not like....::shudder::..not yet, don't think yet.}}
Glancing around he finally saw the Rental Car desk, putting his coat on he picked up his suitcase and started towards the Hertz clerk. As he zipped up his battered yellow and black ski jacket, annoyance and anger washed over him and he swore under his breath, "Dammit I hate the cold. I'm sick of being cold. I just want to get on my connecting flight and get the hell out of this frozen city....to go somewhere warm....I don't care where, as long as it's warm."
Mumbling and grumbling to himself, Tom did not notice the two men staring at him from across the terminal. The look of total shock and disbelief on one of the men's faces would have amused and intrigued him. The look on the other man's face, however, would have stopped him dead in his tracks. Totally oblivious, Tom brushes past both men without even a second glance.
Vic stood gaping at the man coming toward them. Oh, god, it was true. It really was true. Until this very moment, he'd convinced himself that this assignment was a wild goose chase cooked up by their boss as some kind of punishment for him shooting off his mouth to her. He should have realized that if she'd really been looking to punish him, she never would have sent them down together in the first place, since Vic didn't care where in the world he was or what he had to do as long as his lover and partner was with him.
Oh, Jesus. They were in serious trouble. The headache was back full force and then some. A tiny moan forced it's way out before he said, "I have no idea, but we probably need to find out," as the other man brushed past them unseeingly. Slinging his carry-on over his shoulder, he followed his double back to the Hertz counter and dangled his keys in front of the other man's face just as he was about to ask for service.
"Hey, I already got the car," Vic said easily, if a bit too loudly, and waited for the shock and denial to turn to understanding as his partner stuck his weapon in his twin's back. "So let's go." When the other man would have called out and turned attention to their group, Vic softly cautioned, "Don't. You have no idea what's going on here, and if you do that, you've just signed your own death warrant. Just come with us, answer a few questions, and I promise you won't get hurt, okay?"
Tom froze and considered his options. Was that a real gun pressed into the small of his back, or was this an elaborate joke or mistake? {Perfect....this was juuust perfect. The perfect ending to the most horrible two weeks my life!} He had taken enough chances with his life, if this was for real he didn't want to tempt fate twice in two weeks. So slowly, Tom began to walk in the direction he was being pushed.
As he walked out of the airport and into the parking lot, he began to notice the reactions of the people he passed. Some did double takes and some just openly stared. Now, he was used to people staring at him, not to sound conceited, but he had become aware of his appearance long ago and the impact that appearance had on other people.
Sometimes his appearance had gained him a certain advantage over people, catching them off guard.....sometimes it was fun to mess with their heads.
Flirting got him anything and everything he needed.....a good table at a crowded restaurant, the best liquor selections hidden away for *special* customers......cooperation from the most uncooperative stewardesses, waitresses or secretaries.
He even went so far as to use it on men as well as women if he knew it would get him the desired results. He almost never flirted with men, in fact, had only done it once to get a better deal on his Rolex.....but if it would be to his advantage and there was even the slightest hint the man was gay, Tom would smile a little brighter, bat his eyelashes a little and lean in a little closer when conversing.
But this went waaaay beyond the usual lustful glances and appreciative stares...people were openly staring and ..what?...drooling?....ogling? What was going on here?
He tried to turn around and felt the barrel of the gun push further into his back. This caused a sharp pain to shoot through him, a reminder that his cracked ribs haven't been given time to start healing yet. He could feel the shape of the barrel through the material of the bandage wrapped tightly around his torso and a feeling of dread descended upon him. This is no joke. That is a real gun. But who was doing this? And why? The stares of the crowd were starting to annoy him. Something really bizarre was going on behind him and he wanted to know what it was.
The three men walked up to the car and stopped. Tom was quietly instructed to stand still and face the car. His bag was taken from him and put into the trunk. He was pushed forward and forced to get into the backseat of the car. The two anonymous men got into the front seats and the doors automatically locked. Tom didn't see any way to unlock the doors.....special government issue....safety locks...no way out. He began to panic a little, but kept his calm exterior.
After a few minutes, Tom couldn't take the silence and casually asked, "Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on here?"
He was completely speechless when the man in the passenger seat turned around and smiled at him sweetly.
The two anonymous men got into the front seats and the doors "Imagine how we felt!" said the lazy drawl from the driver's seat. "One Mansfield is quite enough for anyone. Two of them are a nightmare. My name's Ramsey, and I'm sorry for the abrupt manner of our introduction, but we had to get you out of there as fast as possible, and him too." Ramsey jerked his head, indicating the man beside him. "This is Vic, and he has a headache. He has no luggage either, and he's in a really bad mood. What's your name and what brings you to DC?"
"Well, my name is McLaren,....Tom McLaren, not Mansfield. I don't know anyone named Mansfield and I certainly didn't know *he* existed. I'm going on vacation for a while. I was mountain climbing and there was an.....incident. I have a headache and a backache, and I am also in a really bad mood. So unless you are going to give me some *good* news, I don't think I should answer any more of your questions. I have a couple of questions of my own for you though......you said you had to get me out of there fast...why?....And another thing....neither of you look too surprised at this" gesturing back and forth between Vic and himself. "this...this ....us." The two men in the front seat glanced at each other then back to Tom and slowly turned back to face the front.
"It's kind of difficult to explain," said Mac, sheepishly. "Mainly because we don't actually know all of that much ourselves, but it would seem that there are a bunch of clones all converging on DC in response to some weird summons. What made you suddenly decide that you were coming here? It's not the kind of place one goes on vacation in December, is it?"
"Clones... riiiight." Tom suddenly felt panicked. {shit...I've been abducted by a couple of fruitcakes...how the hell am I gonna get out of this one?}
Several long minutes later, Tom noticed they were pulling into the parking lot of an elegant, very expensive four-star hotel, The Sheraton. "Hey, where are we going? Will one of you two please answer me? I've had a rough couple of weeks and I was looking forward to a little relaxation....a little *warm* relaxation."
"Well, I didn't have much choice and it wasn't as complicated as a subconscious summons or need to come here. Simple really.....I've been out of the country and DC j ust happens to be where I get my connecting flight to Dallas. It was supposed to be just a forty-five minute layover but my flight has been cancelled due to bad weather. I'm not vacationing in DC....I'm on my way to Utah. I'm visiting a.....friend. She and I got rather..um, close...recently. We are all meeting at her family home for a few weeks of recuperation. She and her brother are meeting me there in three days."
Mac slid a hand along the bench seat of the car that he was driving, and ran his fingers along Victor's thigh. He peeped at Vic out of the corner of his eye, and grinned to himself. So much frustration, and such a payoff there would be for him, personally. He squeezed the firm muscle beneath his hand.
"Hang in there, lover, we're here."
Tom viewed this intimate exchange, not seeing Mac actually touch Vic, but he didn't have to see the physical aspect....the look in the two men's eyes said it all. As Vic's eyes dilated a little more and his breathing began to quicken, Tom's eyes widened and he flushed from head to toe. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing. What was he seeing exactly? It looked a helluva lot like he was seeing himself get turned on by another guy's sexual overtures. This was frightening and more than a bit bizarre. Like it was some strange dream where he was seeing himself do things but unable to control it. Fascinating.....{do I really look like that when I'm turned on? wow...:::shudder::: shit...this is soooo fucking weird}.
"Well, Tom," Mac responded. "This is the hotel at which we have a reservation. Hopefully you are going to like it as well. I think that we should check in and freshen up, and then maybe we can get together for dinner and contact a guy who is supposed to be able to tell us all about this shit. What do you say?" Mac clambered out of the car and handed the keys to the valet. "I'd suggest calling him right now, but Vic isn't feeling too great, and he needs a little TLC before he'll be up to much.
"Uh...I don't have a reservation at this particular hotel. You aren't going to make me sleep in the same room with you guys are you? I mean....er, um....it seems like you two need to be....:::ahem::: alone for a while." Blushing furiously, Tom stared at the ground as if he found the gravel he was pushing around with his shoe was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. This seemed to amuse Mac and make Vic look...what? a little annoyed? Frustrated? Embarrassed? It was hard to pinpoint that exact emotion, even though he should be able to tell what it was since it was like looking into a mirror.
Vic watched his mysterious and embarrassed double in silence. He felt like shit, frankly, and wasn't very happy with having his plans for getting rid of his monster headache interfered with. Even if it wasn't the guy's fault in the first place. /Oh, hell...you might as well admit it...you hate when the Diva's right./And if she was absolutely right this time, Vic was going to be pain for the duration of this assignment. Duckyfreakinswell.
This seemed to amuse Mac and make Vic look...what? a little annoyed? frustrated? embarrassed? It was hard to pinpoint that exact emotion, even though he should be able to tell what it was since it was like looking into a mirror.
Vic could tell by the look on Mac's face that he found this amusing to no end. /That's okay, junior. We'll see who's top dog in the pen real soon...,/ and he so was looking forward to teaching Mac, again. Funny how he seemed to keep having to do that...
"I should damned well think not. You'd probably be kept awake all night by this bozo here snoring." Mac grinned, and appeared quite unperturbed at Tom's attitude. "Vic and me...we're kinda together, you know? If that offends you, I'm sorry, but that's how it is. We'll try and get you a room next to ours."
Vic was about to jab his lover in the ribs for the snoring crack, when the rest of the statement filtered through his sluggish brain. Then, all he wanted to do was jump the younger man where he stood. Instead, he settled for glaring at McLaren. Not that the other man deserved it--Vic was the one who'd brought him here at gunpoint after all...but he was cranky and frustrated, and Mac just seemed to want to ratchet him higher and higher out of spite.
The only problem was.....that look was quite familiar and it seemed to be jealousy and anger. {what the hell does he have to be jealous about? I find this surreal and frightening to a degree.....not arousing.....not the least bit....this is just too weird] It hit him like a ton of bricks why Vic looked jealous. {I look like Mac's lover.....exactly like him.....for all he knows, I could have *been* Vic} No wonder Vic looks pissed. He's afraid.
Mac put an arm around Victor and squeezed his shoulder briefly. "Hang in, babe. I'm gonna give you the best massage of your life, and then you're gonna think you've seen God. Shiatsu is my secret skill. Come on, lover."
/Oh, hell yeah.../Having been on the receiving end of the pleasure those hands could deal out, Vic followed Mac willingly, still chasing the elusive promise of relief. So focused was he on his goal, that he barely noticed the stir he and McLaren left in their wake
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Ricky was somewhat sore when he woke but he was happy. He felt warm and secure with the heavy weight of Walter's arm across his back. He lay on his stomach, his face supported by one arm. Walter was snoring slightly, but Ricky didn't mind.
Ricky could hear activity in the living room. He knew he should get up. Reluctantly he slid from under Walter's arm and stretched. One thing about being fucked by Walter; you knew he'd been there the next day. Mmm, not that Ricky wouldn't have gone for another round. Too bad, it was time to get serious. Ricky stumbled to the shower. Hot, hot water was really under rated as a pleasure. Ricky held his face to the steaming stream. He grabbed shampoo and washed his hair. Liquid soap followed. Shame to scrub Walter's smell off, but it would have been distracting and sticky to keep. Someone had made coffee. Ah, Ryan Simms was an angel. He was in the kitchen with 55. Ricky said, "Morning all."
Oh, hey, the poor broken Mac 27 was back on his feet. Interesting that an android could look so damned stunned. Well, the setup here was far from normal. Personally, Ricky had decided a long time ago to believe ten impossible things before breakfast. It really prepared you for a world in which Mulder and Krycek lived.
One announced. "We must raid Innobotics to obtain a large supply of spare parts for our comrades."
Ricky had just had his first sip of coffee. Nectar of the gods...his brain was stirring to life. He agreed, "Sounds like a plan. I'll call in sick. I'm healthy as a horse. I never get sick anyway. You have at least one FBI agent who lost his rulebook. I wonder if Walter is willing to help. He's a great tactician.
Walter was standing in the bedroom doorway with a noncommittal expression on his face.
Gross looked up from oiling his whip and said eagerly, "Raid? Did you say raid? Count me in, comrades." He surged to his feet and with a practiced flick of his wrist the whiplash cracked, slicing neatly through Ricky's silk boxers. As they fluttered gently to the floor he laughed heartily and added, "Can anyone pilot a plane? Nothing better than starting a venture like this by jumping out of a plane onto your target." He'd obviously never heard of subtlety, or secrecy, but he sure made up for it in enthusiasm.
Ricky didn't bother to remonstrate with the android or grab for the shreds of his boxers. He thought it was pretty funny. Walter, however, was wearing his surly badger face again. Ricky said, "Well, I'm glad that you're in, Gross, but I have a feeling we should have a plan."
One managed to look nearly Walter-like. He snatched the whip from Gross and said, "Your owner should not have let you watch Indiana Jones one hundred and forty-four times."
Ricky laughed. He said, "Oh, don't be so hard on him, One. Give his whip back. He's damn good with it. Let's all have breakfast, get dressed in my case and discuss plans."
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Baines and Michael had stayed hidden in the underpinnings of the Lincoln Memorial until the sun started to appear.
"Come on," Baines said, "let's get the hell out of here. The tourists are about; we'll be able to mingle our way past anyone who's still looking for us."
Michael nodded, really too shell shocked to care. Being confronted with four carbon copies of himself and spending the night hiding in the Lincoln Memorial had left him mentally and physically drained. Unable to think, he looked to Baines for further directions.
"So where do we go now?"
Baines looked at the young man and realized he was out of his depth. Another babe in the woods. Michael had said something earlier about this meeting being second weirdest thing that had happened to him recently, in which case the first weirdest thing must have been a doozy.
"Well, my room and Dustin's is at the Embassy and we can't go back there. Methos and Cory have a room at the Ambassador but Methos said to meet at the Sheraton. I am not in the mood for their hi-jinks at the moment, and I didn't get Mulder's address so it has to be Ricky's place. Skinner is probably still there, if I am any judge, and an assistant director of the FBI might just come in handy right now."
"You think we are in danger?" Michael asked, watching with fascination as the man with his face seemed to morph from a young man like himself to a dangerous creature.
"Yeah, I think we are all in danger. Methos and Cory know it too but don't seem to be taking it very seriously yet and Mulder put Methos off. It is all just too strange. Must be pheromones or something all these guys, half of them straight can't seem to keep their hands off of each other or their minds on the scope of the problem."
"Problem?"
Baines hailed a cab and gave him directions to downtown DC, planning to change cabs and cab companies several times before directing one to Ricky's. It was time consuming but he felt hunted and let his instincts rule.
He kept Michael silent in the first cab and only spoke when they were back on the street waiting to catch the next one.
"Look if you thought last night was strange it is about to get even more strange. When I left Ricky's place last night there were four androids with our face and two clones, or what Mulder says are clones of a man named Alex Krycek, and Assistant Director Skinner of the F.B.I. Mulder left with another android just before I did. You've met Anson, Dustin, Cory and Methos. I've seen at least four androids on the street that I didn't approach. Ricky, that's Ricky Caruso, whose place we are going to, told me he was kidnapped along with the man/clone named Ryan Simms and four or five androids. They were rescued by another android and returned to Ricky's place. According to Number One, there are 10,000 of the androids, all with our face. How many clones there are I have no idea. Why the clones were created, I have no idea. Why the androids have our face, I have no idea. What is clear is some organization wants us, probably not for any good reason. So we get to Ricky's and start shaking some sense into the lust crazed bunch. Damn, it seems everyone is getting laid except me and I came to town specifically to fuck or get fucked."
At that last statement, Michael twitched and side stepped to put just a small space between himself and Baines.
Once again Baines smiled at him. A wolfish smile with lascivious undertones, which made Michael tremble.
Three taxis later, Baines, with a semi reluctant Michael in tow, found himself back at Ricky's.
Ricky opened the door on the third knock, coffee cup in hand, to see the delectable Baines had returned with a new clone.
"You're just in time for breakfast and a strategy session. We are going to break into the laboratory that created the Mac 27's. We could use a man with your talents. Come in. Come in." Ricky's tone was jovial.
Baines pushed Michael into the room when he stood stock still staring at the four Mac 27's.
"This is Michael. We found him at the Embassy hotel."
"We?" Skinner interjected.
Baines followed Ricky to the kitchen with Skinner. Ryan was pouring coffee and handed a cup to Baines.
"I guess I should start at the beginning, god, I seem to be explaining myself a lot lately." Leigh sighed and took a sip of coffee. "Okay, I left here a few hours ago and headed back to my hotel. On the mezzanine I ran into three more clones, Dustin Yarma, Anson Greene, Cory Raines and a guy named Methos. We introduced ourselves over a couple of drinks and were planning on contacting Mulder when Methos noticed a blonde woman and an older man paying way too much attention. Something about the two raised the hairs on the back of my neck."
Skinner interrupted, "The older man, describe him."
"Leigh grimaced, "Tall, slim, expensive clothes. Smoked a lot. I got the impression that the woman didn't like him."
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Skinner slammed his hand down on the counter. "And then what?"
Eyebrow almost reaching his hairline, Leigh continued his tale. "Well, Methos went off to telephone Mulder. The blonde made a move on Anson. We ditched her and decided to move to the Ambassador where Methos and Cory had a room. We all got into the same cab but I noticed that the blonde followed us out and watched the cab pull out. Methos, Cory and I decided to head for the Mall instead of their hotel. At the Mall there was this black car with three guys, looked like men in black, so we all separated and took off. We agreed to meet at the Sheraton Hotel but this morning I decided Michael and I would come back here first." Leigh finished his coffee and held out his cup for more.
"What did Mulder say?" Skinner asked.
"He put us off." Leigh said this as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.
Alex, and his sleek, deadly double would skulk in and fix everything. So far, Alex hadn't even bothered to call back. The dude was probably off getting laid. Ricky had a revelation. Instead of waiting for Walter to tell him how to solve his problem or for Alex to move in and clean it up, he would have to try to help the Mac 27s on his own. He looked around his apartment and realized the first step was to get dressed.
The traffic jam in his living room had increase by two by the time Ricky came back from his bedroom, dressed in black denim jeans and a black sweater. Anne North, her eyes red and one hand holding onto the hand of black velvet poet-shirt clad Romeo, stood talking to One.
55 and Ryan Simms had left on some mission that One had felt necessary. Ricky said, "Well, we need a plan."
Ricky scowled at Gross who looked as if he was about to propose one. He said, "A logical plan. I understand that the first priority is to get parts for injured Mac 27s."
Michael stayed close to Baines. There was something about the man that made him feel simultaneously protected and physically encroached upon. In this new situation he was drawn to the safety that Baines represented. It was only when Baines turned those eyes on him with that hungry expression that he wanted to run. Baines was not looking at him now and Michael moved closer.
Leigh felt a sense of excitement at the thought of action. He had wanted the vacation but at the same time he'd missed his unit. The Irish believe in luck and it could only have been luck that he survived the blast on his last mission. Lady Luck was still on his side. There had been only two survivors of his special action group. Zunowski had been less critically injured than Baines and had already joined another team. Leigh's long hospitalization and convalescence meant that when he returned he would be co-opted into a newly formed group with all the work involved in getting the members to work as a team. This team had unique properties. Baines had offered his life for others in a war with an alien; he would do no less for his new found brothers. As a survivor, he knew what he had done and he could relax in the knowledge that those in command of his strike force knew the measure of his courage. He was at a crossroads in his life. He was free to move in any direction. When he first arrived in DC he had no thought to anything but getting drunk, getting laid as often as possible, eating his way across the city and going back to the military life that was home. Another possible life choice appeared to be opening up and Baines was seriously considering a life outside the military for the first time since he was a thirteen year old orphan and hit a bulls eye with a handgun. Military Special Forces or mercenary had seemed to be his life's path back then. Maybe there was another road. At that thought he felt Michael brush up against him and his lip twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a smile.
Baines was waiting for Skinner to take the lead. Leigh was used to taking orders. He was a good subordinate in a firefight and could take command when necessary. In this situation, Skinner appeared to have more background information and, therefore, Baines would wait on his decision. Based on what he had learned so far he felt that Mulder should be contacted as soon as possible and was hoping that that would be the first order of business.
He turned to Ricky, "Where is your telephone, I want to call Cory."
When he moved to where Ricky directed him he found that Michael followed, sticking close.
Getting the number of the Sheraton from the operator, Leigh rang the hotel and asked for Cory Raines. He had no idea what name any of them had registered under and hoped that he could get through without too much hassle. He really didn't want to start explaining to some desk clerk; that he was trying to contact three identical men who checked into the hotel the night before; but he didn't know what names they were using. Something inside chuckled at the thought. The hotel clerk came back on the line to say that, yes, they did have a Cory Raines registered and he had tried the line but there was no answer. Would the gentleman care to leave a message?
Baines thought for a moment listening to Ricky excitedly making plans for evacuation. It looked like he would be on the road for the next little while. "Yes, I would like to leave a message for Cory. Tell him Baines called from Ricky's. That the other side is moving fast and that he should keep his group together." He paused while the clerk on the other end of the line repeated back the message as he was taking it down and started again at a prompt from the clerk. "Nine of us are breaking out of here in a few moments in two vehicles and heading to meet with another group of us. Still haven't reached Mulder. Will contact you later." The clerk read back the entire message and Leigh thanked him and hung up.
He looked at Michael and put a hand on his arm gripping gently and looking into his eyes, hunger muted for the moment, "Stick with me and I will get you through this."
Michael nodded and moved just a tiny bit closer to Baines who smiled at him brightly as a reward.
Ricky saw that thoughtful expression on Walter's face. He said, "So what do you think? Should we head for this Brule's place?"
One had been staring out the window. He remarked, "I think we should go. I think we should go now. Some of my brothers watch. They've seen the black vans moving toward this residence. It's best we move out now."
Anne North gasped and tugged on Romeo who said, "I will stay and fight them."
One strode from the window and said, "Foolish android. That is bad judgment. We will all flee and fight our way through."
Anne North said, "I've got room for two or maybe three in the car I borrowed."
Ricky's mind added up numbers and said, "I think I'd better hot-wire a car. My Jag's still at the municipal building and Ryan and Luke took Walter's."
Anne looked at One and said, "You. You better keep out of the line of fire." She looked at the fiercely muscled Baines and the deer in the headlights stunned looking Michael. "You two, you look as if you can defend yourselves. Let's go."
'Defend myself?' Michael thought? For the tenth time that hour, he wondered what he had gotten himself into. He had come to DC to meet up with some friends he hadn't seen since college. They had offered to take him out on the town, 'just like old times.' He hadn't been clubbing since The Incident, as he called it. Every time he saw an attractive woman, he involuntarily pictured her morphing into a man, which put him off with a nauseous feeling.
They were leaving now, and Michael instinctively stayed close to Baines. Baines appeared to have a handle on the situation, and seemed the most stable of the group he had encountered last night. He seemed more concerned with trying to figure out what was going on than getting it on with any of the doubles. True, the 'fuck or be fucked' comment Baines had made along with the suggestive leer had thrown him for a moment, but other than that, Baines had behaved in a business like fashion. Besides, Michael wasn't interested in a grope-fest with a copy of himself. He didn't like guys that way. Or at least that's what he told himself.
Baines took a quick look around as Ricky spoke practically in his ear, telling him to take Anne North, Romeo, and One to a safe house that Anne knew about. They were all to meet there. 'Christ five of us in a Volkswagen bug and not one of us could be called small'. Anne would have to drive, she was familiar with the car and it's idiosyncrasies and he would ride shotgun with the map and weapons. The others would have to squeeze in any way they could. Skinner was looking pained
Baines was used to bringing up the rear and providing rear guard protection but this time they were to head out first.
Baines led his motley group to the Volkswagen. Getting them all into the car was an exercise in itself but they managed. Ricky and his three were not far behind.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Ricky added up. That left Walter, Mac 27 9021, and the strange, but entertaining Gross. He said, "The rest of you may as well come with me. There's a Land Rover that belongs to my neighbor. I'm sure he won't mind if we borrow it."
Anne's group took off promptly. Ricky led everyone else to the garage. The Land Rover was covered with a tarp. He pulled it off. Walter had a sickly expression on his face. Ricky grinned back and said, "Don't look so glum, Walter. If we get stopped, I'll tell them we kidnapped you."
Ricky took out the toolkit he had "borrowed" from the things that Alex had kept stored in the spare room. He selected a tool and shorted the alarm. That was easy enough. He frowned as he tried to remember what tool went in the ignition. Not that one. He possibly should have paid more attention when Alex offered the lesson. Ricky tried again. Success!
Everyone pile in. Ricky careened out of the driveway. And, shit! Two dark vans blocked both sides of the street. Ricky debated stopping, but hey, the Long Riders! There was a narrow building with plate glass from floor to ceiling mid street. Ricky yelled, "Walter, cover your face!"
It worked! "Whoo-hoo!" yelled Ricky, "We're the James gang."
Walter had an even more interesting expression as they sped down the next street. The windshield was cracked in a million pieces, but it was a damn good car despite the newly acquired misalignment in the wheels. Ricky said, "Well, it was getting boring at my place. Now it's moving. How's it hanging, Walter?"
Skinner felt a headache coming on. As a general rule, only Mulder could manage to give him a migraine so early in the day. Unfortunately, it was starting to look as if Caruso might just be able to out do Mulder in that department. He sighed and turned to look out the window of the fast moving vehicle.
"So, Ricky... " he asked in a dangerously level tone of voice, "what, exactly, are we going to do now? Break into this robotics lab?" Shitfire! He really did not want to be involved with this breaking in shit. He frowned, trying to come up with an emergency of some kind that would require his immediate attention. Anything - even Mulder - was preferable to this ... this ... whatever the hell Ricky seemed determined to drag him into.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Special Agent Denis Bryson combed his long, brown hair and applied a little more lipstick. Taking a last, lingering look in the mirror to assure himself that he was indeed looking his best, he stepped out into the corridor of the Hoover Building.
He had only just arrived in DC, after a lengthy flight and was elated to be at HQ at last. Washington State could not compare with Washington DC.
He'd been told to report to his new Section Chief, who had taken one look at him and instructed him to present himself to Assistant Director Skinner. For the past 24 hours, Denis, or Denise, as he was right now, had been attempting to do just that. The AD had not been anywhere near his office since the order had been given.
Denise sighed, and went to speak to Kim, the secretary/PA who guarded Skinner's appointment book. She had professed to be just as baffled as to Skinner's whereabouts as Denise himself. Finally, just a few minutes ago, she had relented, and given Denise Skinner's cellular phone number He dialed, and waited for the ring that would put an end to his sojourn in limbo.
The phone trilled, and a curt voice announced that it was Assistant Director Skinner.
"Assistant Director, " cooed Denise in husky tones. "My name is Special Agent Bryson, and I have been ordered to report to you with all due haste, on a special matter."
Lowering her long, mascarad lashes, Denise awaited his reply.
Where the hell had he heard that voice? Skinner frowned. There was something awfully familiar... but, not familiar. The name meant nothing to him. Did it? Bryson? Nope.
"All right, Bryson," he replied, thinking quickly. This could be the perfect opportunity. "Urgent, you say... Yes, well then, I expect we'd best meet as soon as possible. Where are you right now? No, wait... never mind that. Can you meet me at L'Enfant Plaza in about twenty minutes? I'll be outside of the deli."
He disconnected and turned to Ricky. "Drop me off at the next metro station. I have to get downtown right away. You three go ahead and do whatever it is you're going to do."
As he stood on the sidewalk watching Ricky and the two clones head on down the road, Skinner felt his headache starting to fade.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
"Spoilsport" Ricky muttered at Skinner's departing back. Nerve of the man, lecture him about how much he cared and then bail out right before the most exciting adventure of Ricky's life.
Uttering an encouraging word to the very entertaining Gross who seemed to have decided to ride on the roof, Ricky burnt rubber to get away from his disappointing lover.
"I don't care what adventure we're bound for, as long as we're taking action," said Gross, excitedly as they pulled away from the curb. He reached up and wrestled with the latches of the sunroof for a few seconds, completely detaching it and tossing it out onto the road. Hauling himself up to sit on the edge of the roof, he swung his whip around his head and lashed the hood of the car, whooping a war cry.
"Bring on the treasure, the damsels in distress, the massed hoards of the forces of darkness, I'm ready for 'em all!" he shouted, neatly snagging a hot-dog from a passing vendor with another flick of his lash. Stuffing the delicacy unceremoniously into his mouth, he braced himself to enjoy the ride.
Ricky was blessed with an inborn sense of direction. Always had it. Always would. His internal computer avoided any major road problems. He had to cut across an open field and reverse on one occasion when he saw another van. He muttered, "Men in Black and Men in Gray? Two different groups or did one just do the laundry wrong?"
The silent and watchful 9021 didn't answer. Ricky doubled back again and was finally satisfied that they had lost the pursuit. He turned down the dirt road and drove until he came to the first gate.
A Wizard of Oz voice asked, "What's the password?"
Still pissed at Walter, Ricky said, "We are the knights that say, Nee"
The voice immediately dropped six octaves and brayed, "None shall pass."
Ricky decided that the guy knew the script as well as Ricky did. Anyone who knew Python was okay in his books. He said, "So I said good-bye to government, and I gave my reason: That a really good religion is a form of treason. It's Ricky Caruso with two Mac 27s. Let us in please."
After a thorough inspection, Ricky drove his neighbor's limping Land Rover into a compound. He studied a large statue of a man thumbing his nose at the heavens. Hmm, a guy could get into this religion.
"I'm Skip Brule, your host," said a huge man.
Ricky offered a hand, which instead of being shaken was kissed. He fluttered his eyelashes at the tall man. He had a thing for big guys. Walter was a stud, but this one was big and wild. Ricky was interested. Walter had bailed out on him so Ricky's opinion was that he was again a free agent. Besides, Brule was rich. Maybe he was interested in helping a guy replace an ill used Land Rover before a certain FBI agent found his cute ass in jail.
Inside the manse, Ricky was met by two more Mac 27s. He didn't recognize either of them. One wore a chef's hat and the other an elegant tweed suit. Tweed suit had just a hint of silver along his hairline. Beyond them, Ricky saw another clone. He had no problem telling an android from a clone. No matter how realistic the androids appeared, they had just a hint of awkwardness in the movements.
"I'm Ricky Caruso." Ricky announced.
"Rodney Lange," replied the worried looking clone.
"Trey-Trey MacDuff" rolled out the theatrically articulated tweed-boy.
"Mac Smith, chef." the Mac 27 in the apron said.
"Langly, Ringo Langly." said a man with a broad, baby soft face, thick black glasses and long blond hair.
Ricky nodded, "Hey, Langly, you're the hacker? Cool."
Langly nodded somewhat shyly.
"You had any luck locating Innobotics?" Ricky asked
Langly said, "Schematics are printing out right now. This place is state of the art, man. You better get your shit together if you intend to break into the place."
Ricky turned around. Speaking of shit, it might start hitting the fan. He had lost Gross in between the Land Rover and the door. He saw 9021 communing with his fellow Mac 27s, but Ricky's soul mate android was missing. He said, "Hmm, I seem to have mislaid an android."
Brule laughed and said, "Don't worry, man. My guests love a little craziness in their life."
Ricky said, "Yeah, but Gross is twelve times a dozen more than a little crazy..."
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Anne took a few detours and Baines watched for pursuit. Finally satisfied that they were not being followed Baines allowed them to take the directions to Brule's place.
As they passed Henson's Creek Golf Course, Baines said, "Only another five miles to go."
At the gate marked "Private-Keep Out" Anne got out of the car and looked at the security camera and said, "So I said good-bye to government, and I gave my reason: That a really good religion is a form of treason."
A voice from the speaker said, "Foma."
Anne replied, "It's clear as mud, Skip. I've brought more waifs." She turned and got back into the crowded car.
Skip laughed, the gates were opened and Anne drove through feeling happier at the thought of being with her dogs again.
There was no sign of the Land Rover as they drove up to the building.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Ricky forgot about Gross, who had disappeared shortly after their arrival, when he heard Anne North's voice over the intercom. Anne's dogs had been romping about licking bare feet of Brule's boku-maru engaging followers in the house. Even as Skip welcomed the second group of followers via the communications system, the dogs stopped and ran to the front door, gladly wagging their bushy plumed tails. They uttered their undog-like sounds, sounding like happy wolves.
Ricky said, "Well, the rest of the army is here." He winced. He really had hoped to keep Walter invested in the battle. Walter was used to thinking ahead which was not Ricky's forte. Rodney had told him about Eugene's mission to find Mulder. Ricky debated waiting for the big guys to take over, but, God, poor Jules. Maybe it was time for Ricky to grow up a little.
The Land Rover had been moved from the circular driveway. Ricky hoped that Skip Brule was having it repaired. The worst-case scenario was that Gross had taken it. The whip cracking android seemed even more impatient than Ricky to get at Innobotics.
As Baines, Michael, Anne, One, and Romeo got out of the Volkswagen, which was rather like untangling from a good game of Twister, Ricky said, "Hail, hail, the gangs all here. It appears that we have a good floor plan of Innobotics. We know some of the defenses so who's up for a raid? Time is running out for Jules."
One of Brule's barefoot followers, wearing a flower printed robe, ran up. He said, "Hey, dude, problem at the front gate. A van full of men is trying to get in."
Brule grinned and said, "Let them. But activate the defenses."
The totally bald man with the tattoos on his skull grinned. He said, "Oh goody!"
A loud speaker announced, "The world is at the gate. Everyone get their mangy carcass to the shelters."
Skip whipped out a large chocolate cigar and bit off the end. He said, "I love it when a plan comes together. Let's watch the show inside."
Brule ushered them back into the large central area. A section of the wall opened to reveal a complete replica of the original Star Trek Bridge. Brule plopped into the command seat and threw a switch. A big screen TV came to life, showing the van suddenly encountering spikes in the road. It careened into a tree. The hood popped and steam poured out. Eight shouting men with a mixture of ray-gun looking machines and conventional weapons poured out of the vehicle.
Ricky said, "Shit, Brule, I didn't mean to get your people...."
Brule hummed a lullaby. On screen, gas grenades launched out of the trees. Ricky could hear random firing and cursing then just coughing. Brule grinned and said, "They should have a nice sleep."
Ricky said, "What the hell is this place?" Frightening images of religious cults surged through his mind.
Brule said beatifically, "Paradise. You gonna make a Garden of Eden; you got to defend it. Besides, I made a few enemies in the old days. Man's got to defend himself."
Ricky whimpered. He looked at Baines helplessly. The soldier seemed to be taking everything in without comment.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Meanwhile, Gross had been working on his own agenda. His suspicions had been aroused when they arrived at the vast house. While they drove towards the mansion he was pondering its significance, and that of the strict security at the gates, and didn't notice the low overhanging branch that swept him from his perch. As the car disappeared into the distance he scrambled down, landing on his ass, and got to his feet trying to recover his lost dignity as he jammed his battered hat back on his head.
Surreptitiously he approached the house via a series of convenient shrubs, and entered it by climbing trelliswork and forcing an upstairs window. He had become convinced that Ricky was other than he seemed, and had lured them into the clutches of some strange religious cult to be brainwashed and enslaved.
Creeping onto the landing he looked down into the hallway, where a crowd of people was milling round. There was the leader, a huge flamboyant figure surrounded by his henchmen, and a woman who had to be his evil mistress... she was attended by two large dogs, an undeniable sign of villainy (after the traditional fluffy white cat). He looked around for a damsel in distress, who must obviously be rescued first. The only candidate was a lanky figure with long straggly blond hair, not the movie-star image of femininity he might have hoped for, but Gross knew his feet were firmly on the ground and he had to expect a less-than-perfect maiden.
Shouting "Geronimo!" he entwined the end of his whip around the chandelier, and swung himself in a long arc across the massed heads, collecting his fair burden and swinging neatly onto the opposite landing. The jeans and T-shirt were not ideal heroine attire, and the damsel was somewhat heavy and bony, but ignoring these minor details, he kissed his acquisition with gusto, slung her across his shoulder, leapt from a bedroom window through the open sunroof of the car he'd spotted earlier and dumping her on the back seat, drove off across the lawn in the opposite direction from the gate.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
The soldier seemed to be taking everything in without comment. Ricky was about to ask Baines what he thought when a wild figure came out of nowhere, yelling 'Geronimo'. Langly had been leaning on one side of the large opening. The man, Ricky realized was the missing android, Gross. He grabbed Langly and made like Tarzan, landing on the ornate stairwell. Ricky heard the squeal as Gross kissed the struggling hacker then the android disappeared with the hacker slung over one shoulder.
One had observed this with a benign expression. He said, "Gross has very unique functioning."
Brule scowled and said, "Great. Is he likely to hurt Langly? I suppose gas won't affect an android. I'm going to order my people just to watch him and prevent him from leaving the estate."
One said, "Gross is just following his programming. He will not harm the man. Are you familiar with the book, 'Don Quixote'?"
Ricky said, "Yeah. Oh, God, hey Brule, are there windmills on this estate?"
Brule said, "Windmills and solar collectors to back up the generator. Why, does that matter?"
Ricky said, "I feel a headache coming on."
Brule said, "No time for that." He pointed at the screen. His Ninja clad guards were disarming the Men in Grey. He said, "They'll be waking up in half an hour. You want answers? There they are on the hoof?"
Ricky sank down into a brightly covered chair. Why him? All he wanted out of life was fun, sex, good food, and an interesting case from time to time.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Langly sat up groggily in the back seat and groaned.
Hearing a groan, Gross looked at his passenger in the rear-view mirror. She sure was homely, but it could be the fault of those heavy glasses. Once removed she would no doubt turn into a ravishing beauty... just like the movies. The hair was a little scruffy, too. Maybe once they escaped this den of iniquity the first port of call should be a beauty parlor, closely followed by a visit to some expensive boutique, so that his damsel could appear as befitted her position. And then off to his hide-away in the woods, so that she could demonstrate her gratitude to him in the approved fashion.
"Hey man, what's happening?" asked Langly in an unsteady voice, trying to sort the whirlwind of events from the last ten minutes, as he was thrown about in the rear of the jolting car.
"Don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, my dear," replied Gross in reassuring tones, "You're quite safe now. I've rescued you from your captors, and I'm going to take you away and pamper you, so that soon this will all seem like a bad dream. What is your name, my sweet? I'm Gross, and a Mac27 android, fully functional in all the ways a lovely girl like you could possibly require."
Langly shook his head to clear it. It had been a hell of a long time since he'd last sampled magic mushrooms, but this had all the hallmarks of a bad trip on something of very dubious origin. The pain as he thumped against the car doors because of Gross's careless driving seemed real enough, however. "Open your eyes, dude, I'm a guy," he said. "My name's Langly. Ringo Langly. And I didn't need rescuing... those were my friends, which, by a little application of logic, must make you my enemy, or totally off the planet. So, if you could just turn this tin-can round and take me back?" Mac27's could be a little quirky sometimes, but they were usually quick on the uptake, in Langly's experience, which is why he was a little shocked when Gross took no notice at all.
The poor fragile little flower, thought Gross. What sort of abuse has she suffered at their hands to be so deluded? "I understand," he said, soothingly. "You've been brainwashed. They've not only made you think they're on your side, but they've robbed you of your femininity. A few weeks with me in my little cabin in the woods will put that right; I've read all the books about de-programming victims of cults."
"Get real, man, I'm a guy," repeated Langly, exasperated. In desperation he hauled his T-shirt up to his neck, revealing a pasty chest on which each rib could be clearly counted. "Look!"
Gross gasped in horror. Not only brainwashed, but the fiends had operated to remove her female assets. He shuddered at what might have been done to her further down, in her more intimate places. A plastic surgeon was a matter of urgency. Better to humor her, in this traumatized state.
Suddenly, they could go no further. A stout wire fence blocked their way, and even Gross could tell that their vehicle wouldn't be able to plough through it. Calling "Stay right there!" to Langly, he walked over to investigate the possibility of cutting a hole in the mesh.
Langly seized his chance. Riding off into the sunset with a psychotic android was a treat he was happy to postpone for another day. He jumped into the driver's seat, gunned the engine and was screeching back along the track they'd ploughed in the shaven lawn in an instant. Gross set off in pursuit. He'd known it wouldn't be easy to bring such a damaged creature back to the realization of her womanhood, but he was never going to give up on the person he'd already come to think of as his sweetheart.
Langly had never seen himself as a timid maidenly type, but he could have managed a scream or two. It was not that the Mac 27 wasn't pretty! All of the Lone Gunmen spent as much time speculating about Krycek as they did about Scully. Point for point, Langly would have preferred ravishing Krycek! But this guy was definitely weird. Besides the whip worried him. Kinky was fun, but Langly liked his skin left as baby soft as it currently was.
Shit, the damn thing was keeping up with him! Langly lead footed the gas and jolted ahead. The safety of Brule's mansion beckoned. Langly gunned even faster as he saw his would be lover in pursuit. He screeched to a stop and ran into the mansion yelling, "Mad robot! Mad Robot!"
By the time Gross reached the building, Langly was inside. The enemy was alerted to his presence now, he realized and another frontal attack would be pointless. He needed a plan to wrest Langly from their clutches, and possibly some reinforcements. But who would help? Some of the Mac27's were in league with these people; it was hard to know whom to trust.
However, there was one who was upright, staunch, and incorruptible. The perfect ally, if you could ignore his pompous and superior attitude. The one Mulder had named Tin Man. Gross searched his history file. The android had left Ricky's home with Mulder, he remembered. He activated the GPS tracking device that enabled him to find other Mac27's in his vicinity, and got a position for 902. Climbing into the car, the driver's seat still warm from his beloved's body, he set off to find him.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Romeo said, "Jules has only thirty-six hours more. I will go myself to get him his heart if the rest of you do not hurry and form a plan."
Baines spoke up, "I will go with you. He turned to Michael, "I want you to remain here with Anne. I'll be back and I want you to be here."
Michael nodded, wondering at his acceptance of this man's command.
Romeo, Baines and Langly went over the schematics. Skip sent several of his people for the weaponry Baines requested. He also had them bring up some interesting electronic gear good for circumventing surveillance installations and alarms. Romeo was particularly interested in these toys finding bits that he could incorporate into his person.
"How did you get these?" Baines asked in amazement.
"Routine my man, routine. Langly hacked some of the data, the floor plans and schematics. Where we got the electronics is 'classified' heheheh." Skip wandered off laughing his booming laugh.
"Two roads in," Baines noted.
"You weren't planning on driving up to the front door were you?" smirked Langly.
"No we will go in at 3:00 a.m. in a quick commando raid and take out the guards, alarms and surveillance. We will check out as much of the building as we can and I plan to plant plastique with detonators wherever I can. I expect you and Ricky to get a team together with vehicles and follow as back up. Bring vehicles large enough to carry whatever you want out of that place. I plan to wire the recycling section, all the electronics and their command centre to blow."
Looking stern Baines looked at Langly and Anne who had come up with Michael, "If there are any Mac's on the premises I want them evacuated along with as many of the parts as you can scavenge. Romeo and I will get a heart for Jules and the parts One wants for 9021 and anything else we can grab but the rest will be up to you. Have One co-ordinate and maintain contact but keep him back. I do not want him anywhere near Innobotics."
A couple hours later, dressed all in black with clothes borrowed from Brule's ninjas. Loaded with weapons, radios, telephone, and enough C4 to take out the entire laboratory Baines and Romeo headed out. They left their vehicle a good distance from the plant and crept and crawled to the perimeter. The each took a side of the building and went around neutralizing the guards. When they met again Baines got them into the building and removed another guard. Scanning for alarms and surveillance they deactivated every one as they moved deeper into the building. They shoved a tiny magnetic toy into every computer drive as they passed. If any computer survived the explosions they would be destroyed the moment they were turned on.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Mac27 10.000 was skulking along the mostly deserted corridors of the Innobotics building C. Every once in a while a guard would appear on the horizon, making Mac dive for the nearest cover. Mac was scared to death of the guards, or rather of their big guns, ever since he's seen Mac27 9.999 being virtually torn apart by shots from the guards' weapon during his attempt to escape.
His paralyzing fear not letting him to even think of trying to gain his freedom, Mac27 10.000 chose instead to dwell in the laboratories in which he'd been created, and which had been officially closed after the other Mac27s grand escape.
The only disadvantage of this solution, aside from the necessity to dodge the guards keeping watch of the unused equipment that is, was that Mac felt terribly lonely. He'd been designed as a social creature, needing contact with others almost as much as he needed fuel, but ever since he's been born, he was completely alone.
In his desperation Mac tried even to create another android of his own kind, but his attempts only gained him a raid of hundreds of guards, sent to investigate who had switched on the machinery. He'd barely survived, squeezed into an impossibly narrow cabinet for hours on end.
Now, wandering through the maze of offices and labs in the direction of the storage room in which he kept all the fuel he'd managed to find so far, Mac came across a corridor he was certain he hadn't investigated yet.
The corridor, unlike the ones Mac27 10.000 was familiar with, only had one door at the very end. The door looked very solid, and its opening mechanism was rather complicated. Mac hoped that the door led to freedom, however, were crushed when, after over two hours of work, he finally managed to get through: all that was behind were even more labs with even more dead machinery.
Not having anything better to do, Mac27 10.000 started to explore the remains of yet another forsaken project.
The first thing Albert saw was a pair of beautiful green eyes staring at him with hope and excitement. "Hello." he said uncertain and tried to get up, dumbfounded at how much joy his simple greeting gave the other man.
"You're working! You are!" Mac27 10.000 was babbling happily even as he was closing Albert's chest after hot-wiring him into the state of awareness. "I am Mac27 10.000 and you can't even imagine how lonely I'd been before I've found you! What's your number?"
The other man went silent abruptly, giving Albert the clue he was supposed to speak now.
"Um, I'm Albert." Albert took his eyes away from the gorgeous man and looked around. "Where are we?"
"In the Innobotics labs, we're closed in here, and the guards won't let us out, but don't worry, I've found enough fuel to keep the two of us going for weeks! I'm so glad you're here, Albert!" Mac hugged his new companion but soon jumped away as a new thought struck him.
"You do have feelings, Albert, don't you?"
Albert was at a loss: "What do you mean?"
"Do you have the urge to do certain things even though they are not a logical effect of the input you get?" Mac elaborated.
Albert carefully analyzed his circuits.
"I'm not sure. I want to get out of here even though I don't see any imminent danger. And I really want to taste you although I know you are not fuel. Are those feelings?"
"Yes!" Mac's eyes seemed to light up from the inside. "You can, you know. Taste me, I mean. I want to taste you to." Mac's eyelashes covered his eyes seductively. The android was having lots of fun with running all the sub-programs he's never had a chance to use before.
Albert watched Mac appreciatively, busily switching on his own sub-programs. He hadn't been designed to work in a pleasure dome for nothing. Soon he came across the kissing software and without further delay took possession of the welcomingly open lips of his tempting companion.
At the strange noise outside Mac27 10,000 untangled himself unwillingly from Albert's arms and led his lover to one of the hidden passages joining the outer rooms of the building with the heart of the compound. It didn't sound like the purposeful steps of the guards following their set routes and there were too few people for it to be another raid. Could those be other Macs coming back to get him out? It certainly seemed worthy of closer investigation.
Mac told Albert to put on his glasses in case they had to pretend they were human and carefully made his way towards the source of the noise.
Baines wore his soldier face, blank with emotionless eyes. Eyes that swept each room before moving on to the next silent as a cat. Finally, Romeo pointed out that they were approaching the storage/parts area. Once in the room Romeo and Baines started packing the parts needed for Jules and 9021 and anything else Romeo considered necessary that they could physically carry. They heard movement and Baines turned to fire when a Mac 27 and another android with Mulder's face came around the corner.
Number 10,000 was excited at the sight of Romeo. There was another Mac here! They did come back for him! He turned to Albert and smiled at him sunnily.
Baines did not lower his gun but said to Romeo, "Ask him if there are any others like them in the building. We want to get them all out."
Romeo communicated both verbally and electronically with Number 10,000.
"He says there are one hundred deactivated/unresponsive units like himself in the recycling area. There are two others electronically chained in the medical section. Number 10,000 says he could not approach and help them because he was afraid of being caught. There are none like Albert on the premises."
"Okay, take us to the medical section first. We will get those two first." Baines decided quickly.
Number 10,000 wanted to please the human with his face and led them to a room filled with computers, electronics and medical devices.
If the man didn't want to see the heavily guarded rooms at the very core of the building then who he was to lead him into the harm's way? The only Macs he knew about were in the outer rooms anyway and, since getting the androids out seemed to be the only aim of the man with his face, Mac 27 10,000 thoughtfully kept silent about those other labs.
The two androids numbered 7177 and 7777 had wires plugged into their chests holding them immobile. Suspended animation for androids. Romeo disconnected the two delicately and gently patted their faces as they awakened. Two pair of identical green eyes opened and focused on Baines who spoke, "We have come to rescue you. One sent us. Others are coming to gather the deactivated units. Will you follow me?"
They nodded in concert and Baines decided that he would take these two under his wing and keep them close. Michael would need an occupation, and training these two to blend in would be a good thing. Arbitrarily, Baines made a decision and acted on it. "Number 7177 from now on your name is Alexei. Number 7777 from now on your name is Sasha. My name is Leigh Baines. You may call me Leigh."
The two androids moved as one towards Baines and said together, "Thank you, Leigh." They knew the value of naming and were grateful.
Baines smiled at them and Romeo nodded approval behind him. Number 10,000 was pouting and Albert pulled at his arm and whispered to him, "To name is to claim." That brought a smile to the lonely android's face as he moved closer to Alfred.
He remembered all those sweet names Albert's been calling him when they were alone together, when Albert has been using his ingenious ways to short-circuit most of the Mac's functions until the whole energy concentrated in his sensors, lighting them up in the mechanical counterpart of bliss...10,000's pleasure circuits seemed to tingle at the very thought.
Then suddenly a new thought struck him, making him lose his smile immediately: Albert already had a name when he found him, which meant that he couldn't claim him in return. Albert was still free then, he could easily choose another android for his partner and claim him just as he did Mac 27 10,000.
Wary now, Mac 10,000 eyed the company suspiciously even as he did his best to melt into Albert's arms.
"Okay," said Baines, "let's go back to the way we came in. The rest of the work is for the next team. Our job is to get this heart back to Jules."
As the six left the building several vans pulled up. As Baines passed the lead vehicle the window rolled down and Baines stuck his hand in with the controls for the detonators. He frowned when he saw what looked like One in the passenger seat. He said, "There are 100 deactivated androids in there. I've set the plastique and corrupted the computers. Get as many as you can out and you decide whether or not to blow the place." He faded into the darkness having passed the baton of responsibility to the next group.
As he drove his five androids back towards Brule's he passed a tractor-trailer. He grinned; someone else was a boy scout. If the android in the passenger seat could reactivate the 100, they had the means to carry them away.
Baines yawned, Michael was waiting and, hopefully, there would be a bed. Baines was running out of steam. The need for sleep was becoming overwhelming.
Number 10,000 and Albert huddled together. Mac 27 10.000 wasn't going to let Albert out of his reach for a moment, not with all the other unclaimed androids with his face running around. Maybe feelings weren't such a good thing after all. Mac 10,000 certainly didn't like the discomfort whenever Albert was close to one of those unnamed sluts. They were all just dying to make his lover claim them, Mac 10,000 knew. He was going to show them if any of them so much as looked at Albert the wrong way!
Sasha and Alexei kept their eyes on Baines. They planned to remain at his side for as long as he would allow it. Romeo's thoughts had gone ahead to Jules.
Michael had spent the time during the raid remaining on the fringes of the group. He had stayed near the command room, waiting to hear news on the raid. He also used the time to process everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. He was starting to believe that he was okay with the whole duplicate issue, both clones and androids. Yeah, it freaked him out if he thought about it too much, but he was slowly adapting to seeing his face on another body. What had him scared at the moment was Baines' attraction to him. It wasn't that he looked just like Baines, but that he, Michael, was attracted to another man. After his experience with the shape shifter, Michael had avoided sex, period. His friends, who didn't know the whole story, didn't understand why the party animal who had closed down the clubs all of the sudden began living like a monk. He had started to think that his libido had gone into permanent hibernation and then he met Baines. All his life he had considered himself straight, a ladies man. He didn't do guys. No way. So why did he feel attracted to this soldier? He heard the van returning, so he rejoined the group anxiously waiting by the gate. Several androids spilled out, including one that was not a Mac 27, but looked vaguely familiar. Michael breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Baines, who was looking exhausted, but unharmed. He stepped forward, raising his eyebrows slightly at the two androids now closely following Baines. The fact that more androids had been brought back from Innobotics didn't surprise him, but the twinge of possessive jealousy he felt towards Baines did.
"Come on Leigh, the bedroom's this way." He didn't flinch when Baines leaned against him for support. Michael guided the half asleep man to the quarters Skip had pointed out for their use earlier. Baines flopped down on one side of the king sized bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow. Michael shook his head and began tugging the other man's boots off. Baines remained unconscious through it, and even started snoring lightly.
The question now was where was he going to sleep? Michael didn't feel comfortable sharing a bed with another man, but he didn't want to face the weirdness he knew was waiting outside the door. Giving up, he took off his shoes and climbed into the other side of the bed. "Just keep your hands to yourself," Michael muttered, his back turned to Baines. Although he thought he'd never get to sleep, the events of the day caught up with him and he was out in five minutes.
Alexei and Sasha followed Leigh, as he was half carried into the big house by the man named Michael. On the drive back Baines had explained that he was very tired and would have to sleep as soon as they arrived at their destination. He had asked the two androids just to remain close and be patient. When Leigh disappeared into the bedroom and Michael closed the door in their faces, the two took up their posts on either side of the door. Anne noted them standing there and questioned Romeo about them. Romeo explained where they had found the two; that Baines had named them and now they were waiting for him to awaken. She brought them each some beer and chocolate. The two listened in to the various conversations going on all over the house in an attempt to utilize their time and to learn what they could.
Both men slept unmoving for several hours but as they began coming to a waking state they moved closer together. Michael woke to find himself in Leigh's arms. His first reaction was to struggle free but he held still. It had been a long time since he had held anyone and even longer since anyone had held him. It felt good. His eyes still closed he explored that feeling. Instinctively he knew what Leigh wanted, hell after watching the other clones paw each other, he'd had moments of wanting the same thing. He had tried to think through the confusion last night while Leigh was away but hadn't been able to make up his mind one way or the other.
An hour went by with Michael arguing with himself and worrying at the problem. He hadn't reached any conclusion when Leigh moved and pulled him closer. The other man shifted and began nuzzling his cheek. Michael didn't move, as the nuzzling became kisses that moved closer to his mouth. A hand came up and gripped his chin lightly lifting his face, two green eyes looked into his briefly before the lips covered his and they closed. Michael let himself relax into the kiss for only a moment. It felt wonderful. He panicked. Michael pushed Baines away. "Don't".
Baines immediately relaxed his hold and let Michael wiggle away. When he did not get off the bed altogether Baines was encouraged to ask gently, "Michael, have you ever been with a man?"
"No, never."
"Not even a friendly hand job between friends when you were a teenager?"
"No."
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