ANYTHING YOU RECOGNISE I DON’T OWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Alec rode his bike through Seattle again, Transgenic’s had just been given some rights thanks to himself, Max, O.C, Sketchy, Normal and a lot of extra P.R work from Eyes Only, aka Logan. He had gotten his job back at Jam Pony, but nothing was the same, now most people knew he was a Transgenic, they knew that he was a freak, and now, as much as Max wanted to put on a brave face people still hated them. They were still feared by the majority of the population in Seattle, and because of them, any Ordinaries found associating with them were in trouble. Logan had Sketchy, O.C. and plenty of others from their Jam Pony crew in safe houses in Canada. He remembered the look on Max’s face when she found out that her best friends had to leave, and that she’d probably never see them again. Normal was a whole different story, he stayed on, as the boss of Jam Pony, even his ‘Bip! Bip! Bip!’ tune didn’t change. But he was a target, he had been shot at, beaten up, poisoned and stabbed, and had not given in. It was a change considering that only a short while ago he hated Transgenics and all associated with them. But it would only take one stray bullet, one lucky shot with a knife, on poison that couldn’t be identified to take him out. And as much as he hated to admit it Alec kind of liked the guy, he saw Normal as a kind of father figure to him, and he didn’t want to see anything happen to him because of who he’d employed.

Alec entered Jam Pony with his trademark smirk plastered across his face.

“Golden Boy!” he heard Normal call out. Alec made his way over to Normal’s desk and raised an inquiring eyebrow, “What’s up boss?” Normal handed him a package and Alec shook his head, “No can do Normal, I’ve got a hot date tonight, get Maxie to take care of this package.”

“Alec, the package is for you…”

Alec looked down and the small brown box, “You haven’t have you?” and Normal shook his head, he had learned the hard way that opening packages addressed to a Transgenic was a bad idea, he was nearly blown up because of a package addressed to Max. “You got somewhere I can look at this?”

“Take the room upstairs, it’s not being used for anything.”

Alec nodded and carefully picked up the package and slowly walked up the steps.

Placing the box on the table he leant down, no smell of any chemicals that would potentially cause him any fatal damage if mixed, there was no ticking, a general tell tale sign of a bomb. Reaching into his backpack he pulled out an EMP emitter, Dix had cooked this little baby up from remnants of equipment in Terminal City. He turned in on and ran it over the package a few times before slipping back into his bag. Carefully he opened the box and there he found a computer disk, along with an address, date and time written on it. He had to get this to Logan.

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Alec, Max, Biggs and Logan sat in his new/old place. He out the disk into a wireless laptop and it played on its own. A woman appeared on screen. Her hair was short and feathered; it was black with dark red highlights in. Her skin was slightly tanned and her eyes were vibrant forest green, her painted red lips quirked in a smirk.

“I’m assuming that you’re watching this 494, and probably 452 along with whoever runs your little city.” The woman spoke, she was English, “I’m Major Morgana Dex, and I work for the Royal Army, in Britain. We want to make you an offer. My commanding officer has sent me to Seattle to meet with you, if you’d allow it. Our forces have been monitoring the Transgenic situation in America for some time now, and we want to offer you immunity, along with Asylum in the U.K. Of course there is a catch, we want you to work for us in the military. Now I know what you’re thinking, what makes us any different from Manticore? Well hear us out and you’ll find out. Note that I said ‘work’ that means you would be getting paid, just like any other soldier, you’d get the same amount of freedom as any other soldier, and technically you wouldn’t be referred to as soldiers, you would be Specialists, in your area. You’d also get a hefty severance package when the time would come for you to retire. I know that this sounds like a trap, and I would definitely be wary of any message that came to me in this format. Which is why I’m giving you the opportunity to come to me and not the other way around. The address on the paper is a house, where myself and two other colleagues are staying, we’d like to meet with you tomorrow, bring all the weapons you want, and as many people as you want. You can even case the place if you’d like. We are not your enemy, and we hope to hear from you tomorrow. Now if we don’t hear by the end of the week, we’ll take that as a refusal of our offer and take our leave. We won’t bother you again.”

That was it. The video cut out and the four were left staring at a blank screen, they looked at each other. “You think this is for real?” Biggs asked.

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