DAY NINETEEN 21:18PM

Match Made In 

Max closed the lid to the laptop. "Ok, I've gotta make a run for some coffee." He looked around the motel room; there was no one else there. 

The cellphone rang again. He let it.

DAY NINETEEN 20:59PM

Point And Match

"Craptacular," Max said. He butted out a cigarette and glanced at his watch. He was dying for a coffee, since his head had begun to hurt.

DAY NINETEEN 20:33PM

Return of No Point 

Small specks of snow began to fall from the sky; not enough to warrant a shelter, just enough to let them know that winter was still here. 

"Shit," Suki said. She looked at all of them and shook her head. "It's worse than I thought."

"What do you - waitaminute..." Donnelly looked around at the others. "What's happening?" 

Suki frowned. She snapped the cell phone closed - no signal to the Professor either. "I told you, there's some sort of threshold event occurring. Or is about to occur. Or just occurred." She looked to Scorpio. "Somewhere in that LEGACY-tailored brain of yours is the all the data on your ex-team's shift protocols. Frank had it stored in his, you gotta have it buried somewhere in yours."

"And so what if I do? How did this Frank-guy remember these whatever-you-called-them?" 

"We need any stable reference points we can get if there's a shiftstorm happening - safe-houses, phone numbers, records, contacts, anything. Or we could all get lost." Suki smiled, with a hint of sadness. "Frank's recovery involved a warlock, a tattoo-artist and a bungee-jump..."

Father Donnelly looked around, scanning the rest stop. The barren trees, the faux-wood exteriors of the washrooms, the picnic tables gently frosted with white, all slow-cooked in the orange of the lamp-post. 

His voice sounded high-pitched when he finally spoke. "Where's Mayganne?"

DAY NINETEEN 19:33PM

Point Of No Return

Small droplets of water began to fall from the sky; not enough to warrant a shelter, just enough to let them know that spring was finally arriving. 

"Fuck," Suki said. She looked around at them all and shook her head. "It's worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?" Donnelly asked. 

"Means there is a lot more brewing here than the Professor informed me about!" Suki said. It was the first time Scorpio saw the woman snarl. And it scared the hell out of him. "Fuck, this is bigger than Version Orion."

"Version Orion?" said Scorpio. The mention of that name stirred something in his memory, but he couldn't quite place it. 

Suki tried the cellphone again, her thumb dancing over the keys and bringing it up to her ear. She shook her head. "There must be several major shifts going on; whatever has happened has caused a shitstorm in the plureality."

Donnelly glanced at Suki. Even though he had just met her a few hours ago, he knew in his gut that she was a good soul. He chuckled at that thought. 

"Max is lying low isn't he?" Mayganne inquired.

"Max doesn't lie low," Suki replied. "He stirs the pot."

DAY NINETEEN 15:33PM

Vector

"Thank you for meeting with me, Agent Light," Greg Logollos said, taking a seat across from the young man. He looked crisp and clean in his expensive three-piece suit. At the tables surrounding them other patrons of the Azure restaurant carried on their own quiet conversations. A background whisper of deals and bargains and secrets.

Simon tapped a key on his PDA, opening a file to take notes. "You have some information regarding a current investigation?" 

Greg poured a cup of coffee from the urn on the table and offered it to Simon.

"No thank you. I don't drink coffee." 

Greg smiled. "No, of course not. But yes, we do feel we can be helpful in certain matters, yes." Something about the man's smooth tone made Simon miss the gruff detectives from the other day. "LEGACY has always enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship with all of the agencies such as yours. What is the current slang? The Alphabet crews? We've worked with the FBI, CIA, CSIS, NSA, DEA, MI6-"

"I understand, Mr. Logollos. Please, I don't have a lot of time." Things hadn't quieted down since he was first tapped to check out some potential terrorist activity. The diner, the building downtown - some sort of makeshift hostel based on the remains - both burnt down. The mutilated bodies, complete with a small arsenal of cutting-edge gear, splattered inside the warehouse. The body of Lon Lugerelli, killed execution-style. The appearance of the Fujimoria woman, taken off their watch-lists over five years ago when she was reported dead. The body of Aaron Quipton, found in an apartment along with signs of a kidnapping, killed by an as-yet-unidentified energy weapon. The action-movie-car-chase-gunfight on the interstate four days ago. A strange and violent set of tracks that Simon was trying to follow to whatever beast was stalking his territory. 

Greg nodded. "Indeed. Agent Light, you're aware of the recent incident at our research facility. We believe it is directly connected to your current pursuit of Ms. Suki Fujimoria for questioning in a number of deaths and incidents of arson."

Simon arched an eyebrow. "Connected how?" 

"In a number of ways, possibly. Most importantly, we believe that she is currently trying to locate the man who is the cause of all the recent... chaos."

"That's a man I would be interested in meeting. What's your interest? This person was somehow responsible for the damage to your facility?" 

Greg nodded. He sipped his own coffee. For a moment he stared at the liquid in the cup. "Our principle concern is this man's recent attempts to sabotage an ongoing experiment being conducted by LEGACY. An act of corporate espionage, if you will."

"Who is he?" 

"His name is Max Cube."

Simon shrugged. "Should I know the name?" 

Greg studied the agent for a moment. "I thought you might."

"We'll need everything you have on him, of course," Simon said, tapping his PDA. 

"Of course," Greg nodded. "I am pleased to be able to inform you that we have a lead on the Fujimoria woman."

"Really?" 

Greg leaned in closer and explained to Simon that an employee of LEGACY was currently being held hostage by Fujimoria, and that by using some classified satellite technology and an employee genetic-tagging system, they were in the process of locating them.

Greg smiled. "We'll have coordinates for you within 24 hours."

DAY NINETEEN 4:07AM

The Universes In My Coffee Cup
 
"You shouldn't be here," Suki said to Scorpio in a matter-of-fact tone. Scorpio could tell by her voice that she wasn't being smug; it sounded more like a teacher to a pupil. 

Scorpio looked at the woman and smiled; it was the first time it felt genuine. "I have no other options left. You made sure of that."

"No, you SHOULDN'T be here," Suki emphasized as she placed her coffee cup down on the table. The roadside diner was nearly empty at this time of the morning, except for a trio of truckers sitting at the counter and a young couple sitting a few booths down. 

"What do you mean?" Scorpio questioned. He hadn't touched his coffee; it sat in front of him black and cold. He couldn't drink anything since his mind was racing over the past few days. However now his curiousity was piqued about what she was going to say.

"First answer a question. And then I will explain it to you," Suki replied. She had taken the sugar packages and some creamers from the bowl at the far side of the table and placed them beside Scorpio's untouched coffee. "What do you remember of your life?"

Images and memories of his past came popping through his mind. As if a switch had gone on in a theatre and the movie began to roll. He remembered growing up an orphan, going from foster home to foster home. He remembered his first kiss with Jenny McRae underneath a huge oak tree in a park. He remembered while in college he was approached by a man in a black suit and how he joined the LEGACY fold. He also remembered his first kill, a middle-aged woman who was supposed to be responsible for the loss of many lives. He shook the last image away like someone brushing dirt off a jacket. "Standard stuff, why?" 

"Look at this coffee cup," Suki said as she pointed at Scorpio's untouched coffee. "Imagine this to be a version of reality; better yet your version of reality as you see it."

Scorpio nodded. Because, after all, it was just coffee. 

Suki brought up a sugar packet and tore one end and held it before her. "Now think of each of these individual crystals inside this packet as variables. And when added to this reality here, it changes."

She poured the contents of the packet slowly into the cup, making sure that Scorpio was watching the sugar dissolve as it sank into the depths of the dark liquid. 

"That reality is different now. It became different when we added variables. Instead of a dark bitter world, we now have a little flavour," she said with a slight smile. Scorpio watched with interest. "These variables change when added into the fold; it changes the world but you can't see it. It changes everything, but still it's unseen."

She placed the empty packet down and brought up the cream and she added just a tiny drop. "Now think of this as Max. See what happens to the coffee. It changes. It's not dark anymore but has gained a speck of colour. And watch what happens when more is added. So this reality changes. 

"A dark unseasoned version, spiced up with variables and changed by an introduction of another element to change it completely," Suki said.

"And?" Scorpio asked. 

"Just think of yourself as a variable, changed by the introduction of an element," Suki told him.

DAY EIGHTEEN 14:34PM

The Next Agenda 

Donnelly sat at her bedside. She looked so pale. She almost seemed faded, like an old photo. He finished his prayer.

The reverend had been praying a lot, both with others in the renegade church and by himself. Last night he had even tried praying to Odin. Standing out in the woods in the dark, remembering the mighty, terrible figure looming over him, wounded and wise. Donnelly had just improvised something, and his whispers had sounded like wind in the trees. He had started by asking for Odin's guidance, and protection, but eventually he had started talking, thoughts streaming from him, wishes and hopes. He had described the dream he'd always had of a beautiful cathedral, its doors open and welcoming. He had begged the Allfather to lead them to a world where they were safe, where Alice was better, where she and Max were married and happy, or where Max had never come to them. 

One of his prayers, to his God, had been answered. Mayganne was back. And another of his prayers as well; she had some answers.

While the Father had tended to the dressings on the cuts and bruises on her face, she had told him about her capture by LEGACY and her rescue by the mysterious woman, Suki. 

"I think we can trust her, Mother," Donnelly said to the unconscious woman. "She seems to know a lot about Max... She wouldn't even come with Mayganne to our sanctuary, so its location wouldn't be compromised..." He sighed, and took hold of Alice's hand. It was hot. Better than cold, he figured. "Mayganne says she needs to find Max. We have his cell number. But I'm going back to the city; I need to meet her before I give her the number."

He glanced down at the satchel he had packed. He had gotten everything ready before coming to see Alice. He knew his resolve might weaken. Mayganne was already outside in the car. The handgun was in his pocket. 

"I'll be back, dear girl," he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. Here eyelids, for now, were still. "Maybe I'll find out what's happening." And when he thought of everything that had happened - fleeing the city, learning about LEGACY, Luger being a traitor, doing the ritual with Max to kill the hit squad, meeting Odin - tears formed in his eyes. And suddenly he was thinking about everything, all the ways the world kept changing, all the faces of everyone in his church, the fear that they carried with them always, the sister he no longer had. And he was crying, leaning down, his face against Alice's shoulder, sobbing. All the words of all the sermons he had told falling like red snow through his mind, melting into nothing against the burning ache inside him.

When he finally left the room, Hank was waiting outside. 

"I'm against this,  Father," Hank said as Donnelly passed him. His voice was tense.

The reverend rounded on the younger, larger man. "I really don't give a shit what you think. You just keep everyone here safe until I get back." 

Eyes wide, Hank was silent as Father Donnelly went downstairs.

DAY SEVENTEEN 10:03AM

Damage Control 

"... upon initial investigation there was a rupture in the main gasline which caused the explosion at our research facility two days ago," Greg Logollos said into a podium full of microphones. He happened to be the man of the hour, with all the personality of a superstar and the charismatic appeal of a politician. Plus the soul of a snake. "It wasn't an outright attack as the media stated when the event occurred." 

It was his job. Damage control; to make sure that the recent events had no bearing on what was unfolding. To make lies become truth, and the truth to become fiction. He loved his work.

"So it wasn't an act of terror then?" a reporter from CNW asked. "Eyewitness' reported seeing a van heading in the general direction of the complex before there was an explosion." 

"Oh yes," said Logollos, with the skill of a snakeoil salesman. "We all know how the media likes to pick up on small details and bend them to make it look like one thing when in fact there is a simpler solution altogether."

"Does the security videotapes show anything unusual at all?" a reporter from ABNC News asked. 

"The video tapes show nothing," he said honestly. Because it was the truth, since an electromagnetic pulse wiped out everything in a ten mile radius of the facility. That was standard procedure in case something like this happened. "The matter is under federal investigation and until we know what they know, that is all I can say," Logollos said with a lie so thick you could call it titanium.

DAY SIXTEEN 17:59PM

Standing in the Tide 

"She is not getting any better," Father Donnelly said once he had closed the door to the bedroom. Susanna closed her eyes. Hank clenched his fist.

"It's time we do something," Hank said. 

Susanna could feel the storm that was about to break in the hallway of the cottage. She mumbled something about checking on the children outside and headed for the stairs.

The reverend knew this argument was due. They had reviewed the options already, two days ago, when Alice first got sick. They couldn't risk going back to the city, or calling help to come here. Any doctor in the nearest town would only send her to the hospital; she clearly needed treatment of some kind. 

Fevers, vomiting, hallucinations. Strange bruising would appear and disappear all over her body.

They couldn't take her to a hospital, though. Max had been clear about that when the plan had been made to come here. No contact with the system in any way. Even Max didn't know their exact location. He said he would call when it was safe. 

Hank knew all of that, but Donnelly knew they were still going to argue about it. Because of Max. Donnelly trusted him, Hank didn't. And now Alice's health, maybe her life, hung in the balance.

He already knew everything Hank was going to say, most likely yell. He also knew that Hank used to have problems with anger; he hoped nothing bad was about to happen. He would let Hank have the argument though, because even though everything had already been said, even though nothing would change - the group had decided to wait - sometimes you still needed to have the fight anyway. 

Hank looked at the reverend, eyes hard and cold.

Johannesberg called up from downstairs. "Father! Milligan says there's a vehicle coming up the lane!"

DAY FIFTEEN 9:32AM

Snowblind 

"I'm out," Scorpio said as he looked at his gun and wished it to refill with ammo. He turned around in disgust since he had wasted most of his shots.

Suki swerved on the interstate, the car fish-tailing on the fresh fallen snow, making it hard to maneuver. She cursed under her breath; she knew she shouldn't be pushing 100 mph in a snowstorm. 

"How many?" Suki inquired. She really didn't have time to take a head count of the pursuers.

"Three sedans. Two black vans," Scorpio replied somberly. He knew this was serious business. This meant that it was a Cleaning Crew. He probably knew over half the pursuing party, as well. But he also knew one thing that they didn't know; that he was alive and part of the pursued. 

"Craptacular," Suki said. It was a word that Dexter had used several times in what seemed to be a forever ago and another several realities away.

"Is it the police?" Mayganne asked. She was lying down on the backseat of the car, amongst the shards of broken windows. They looked like small uncut diamonds. 

"No. Wish it were though." Scorpio replied as he tossed his gun on the seat beside him. He had checked the glove compartment on the off-chance that there was a clip or two waiting for him. "Much worse."

DAY FOURTEEN 11:09AM

Armageddon It 

"Did you catch that movie '217'?" Randy asked. His shift was pretty close to its end and he wanted to make lite conversation to pass the time. He found it made the last half hour go faster. 

"Is it that movie that everyone is gawking about these days?" his elder partner, Vic, asked. Vic earmarked the page he was reading before he put down the pulp novel, The January Project. "The one where 217 Texans stave off the advancing Spanish army?"

"Yeah," Randy said. He was glad that Vic knew of it. "I saw it last week when it opened, I was thinking of going tonight again..." 

The walkie talkie sqawked.

Vic reached over and picked it up. "Sentry Station 7 here." 

"We have an unidentified bogey coming in your direction," the operator said. "It's not slowing down."

"Great," Randy said under his breath. Just what he needed, some bleeding heart liberal protesting something or another about this facility. He stood up and stretched, and he could hear the roar of the van approaching. 

"We're on it," Vic said. He hooked the walkie to his belt and unlocked the cabinet where the shotguns were.

"By the sounds of it this fellow is in a hurry," Randy commented. He couldn't see the van approaching but he could hear the squeal of tires as it took a bend. Randy stepped out and took the binoculars with him. "He's going to be within view in a few seconds." 

11:12am

Max shifted into another gear, picking up more speed. Ramming speed. He brought up a bloody hand to wipe his brow; his knuckles continued to bleed. He took the opportunity to take the cigarette from his mouth, and exhaled a long plume of smoke. 

"Speak to me, baby," he said to the haze as it began to swirl. He cracked a smile, a rather pleasant happy smile. He glanced at the pack of cigarettes that was in the shotgun seat; they were open and three smokes danced about the seat. 

Should have stopped and gotten another pack, he thought. But then again a shot up cream-coloured van and a bloody driver might draw suspicion.

His foot had the pedal to the floor. Blood was still seeping from the gunshot wound on his right arm; there was no time to bandage it. 

He drove past a sign that declared: 

L.E.G.A.C.Y> Research Institute

Brightening Your Future So You Don't Have To

He glanced back at the giant barrel-like device that was anchored in the back, the time was counting down 10:00 minutes.

"Showtime," he said wryly. He shifted it into the fifth and final gear.

DAY THIRTEEN 19:53PM

Where I Lay My Hat  

“Hank, I can’t thank you enough,” Alice said as she dropped her backpack onto the bed. Dust floated up in the beam of the flashlight. “It’s really nice, and there’s room enough for everyone.” 

Hank smiled, holding the light steady while Alice unrolled her sleeping bag and Susanna started placing some of her clothes in the dresser. It wasn’t the first time that they had relocated in the years they'd been together. As things changed, so did the places they lived. Some kept normal homes, most took to living communally in places like The Rave. Sometimes they moved by choice, sometimes they moved because their havens disappeared in a shift. New places and hangouts, and new passwords and signals. And each time there was Alice, waitress, college student, even an actress once, supervisor at a women’s shelter, her world and her life warping around her, while she remained constant, a beacon calling the lost home.

Hank realized that he was falling in love with her. He cleared his throat, worried the women could somehow read his thoughts. “I always hoped we could use this place, eventually,” he said. “ But it’s so far away from, well, anything really. Except the other cottages on the lake. Although they’re all abandoned too, since the land deal happened. They were the last I heard, anyway.” 

Alice smirked. “Unless that’s all changed.”

Hank smiled back. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should take Jo and check out-“ 

Alice interjected. “Hank, it can wait until tomorrow. You’ve been at the wheel for so long. Get some rest tonight.” 

“He’ll probably be up all night escorting people to the outhouse,” Susanna joked. 

The rest of the cottage was bustling. Beds getting assigned, supplies getting unpacked. A fire finally clawing into brightness in the main room. Seeing everyone come together, work together, here in the place where he spent his childhood summers… It made Hank’s heart full of rainbow feelings. Every time they learned that something had changed, Hank always tried to remember those summers, to make sure they were still there. He feared losing his past most of all. Now it seemed that his future, all of their futures, were at risk.

He frowned as he watched Johannesberg and Milligan check over the hunting rifles they had brought on the retreat. He knew that Father Donnelly still had that pistol Max had given him. At the thought of Max the anger returned. The sense of pride and closeness he was feeling flared into a red rage as quickly as if he had shifted.

Maybe he had… maybe that’s why he had so many problems throughout his life dealing with anger. Something about his identity shifting… He tried to hold onto the idea, the sense of it… 

Johannesberg called him. “Hey Hank, will you walk us down to the dock?”

Alice and Susanna came downstairs as Hank led Jo and Milligan, both armed, out into the cold night. 

“Things feel…” Alice said softly. “It’s like they’re building to something.”

Susanna took Alice’s arm in hers. “I know what you mean. Something’s happening. We’re caught up in something. Maybe this Max is the key to figuring out what’s going on?” 

Alice thought about Max. She was still fighting the urge to call him. “I just feel… That it will somehow end badly.”

Susanna shivered. It was unnerving to hear Mother talk like that. She tried to change the line of conversation. “Did Hank ever say if this place had a name?” 

Alice smiled wryly, her tone sarcastic. “Maybe we should call it the Alamo.” 

“How about Helm’s Deep? They won that one.”

DAY THIRTEEN 4:13AM

Forest Through The Trees 

Max was naked and covered in sweat. The paint on his body losing its contrast and beginning to blend in, making it seem like the patterns were moving. 

He sat there in the lotus position, finger and thumb still clenched, eyes closed and letting the heat and the feel of the smoke wash over him. He was beyond tired, beyond sleep, he was beyond it all.

The drumming continued. The chanting of an old native man, intermixed with the young woman's trill, continued on, echoing through his mind, becoming part of the soundscape. Imagery, faces, events, situations, watches, cards, houseflies and emotions going through him like a wave on a distant shore. 

The chanting continued, the drums as well; it seemed to pick up a little pace. Max was lost to it.

"Awnee, Max." 

Max's eyes flickered open; the pupils were like reflections of torchlight in a pond.

"What can I do for you?" the wolf asked. 

Max was standing in an open field where the 13 moons were shining overhead, intermixed with reflections from distant stars. With a hint of darkness and light from all around the horizon, like sunrise and sunset. Here he was in twilight.

A campfire lighting up the area around him, in the shadows of the trees he could make out red eyes, green eyes, black eyes all staring down upon him. He could feel their hunger, but he wasn't scared. 

"I think you know," Max told the wolf.

The wolf changed to the image of an old native man, who sat cross-legged across from him. Naked, covered in symbolic tattoos. "I cannot fight your demons for you. It is you and you alone who can face them."