Blakesley
Blakesley sighed and straigtened the cuffs of his suit. Damn beaucracy. As if it was his fault that the aliens and mutants had escaped. The fault was clearly at the feet of the people who trained the men to patrol the labratories. It wasn't his job to make sure they stayed there. Then he had a sense of deja vu...Taylor Hanson was *not* meant to be in Houston. He was in tour somewhere in California, or something similar...wasn't he? Blakesley decided to walk over.
"Jordan...walking the streets alone? You already know what comes of that. As does Jane," he observed to the teen he thought was Taylor.
Christian
Christian turned on the stranger, a shopping bag in his right hand and a confused expression behind his trademark sunglasses.
"Jordan?" he raised his eyebrows, figuring the guy would soon realize his mistake.
"Now there's a name I haven't been called before. I've been called many things, but that's a new one."
Blakesley
"That's right...you don't remember, do you, Taylor? And where is Natalia? I would not have thought you've have left her alone after the Anaheim concert." Blakesley smiled coldly. "I saw Jane run after you nearly collapsed onstage. Feeling any better?"
Christian
Christian pursed his lips and looked around. Luckily, they were in a pretty deserted part of the street.
This guy now obviously thought he was Taylor. And he knew about Jane... who the heck was Natalia?
"Anaheim?" he looked vaguely interested, "well, that's interesting seeing as I haven't left Houston for say... a month and a half now? Only a guess, by the way."
Blakesley
Blakesley tilted his head slightly, then his eyebrow went up. "Since by now Taylor would be hissing at me to stay the hell away from his girlfriend and the poor abused mentally broken Natalia, you must be the clone. How...intriuging." He looked at Christian like he was a particularily interesting lab speciman.
Christian
Christian was instantly on guard. Not many people knew about him being a clone... namely Kirk, Chloe and Taylor's family. So how did this guy find out?
He frowned.
"Ok man, who the hell are you? And what game are you playing?"
Blakesley
"Allow me to introduce myself. How very rude of me." Blakesley made a tutting noise. "Kaleb Blakesley. Scientist, researcher and head of Special Interrogation department at Nevada Research Institute. Where Taylor and Jane enjoyed my hospitality for a time. Of course, Taylor no longer seems to remember it. Pity. I'll have to start the training process all over again..."
Christian
"And that is supposed to mean what to me?" Christian frowned, before remembering something Tanya mentioned about having to rescue Taylor from... Nevada?
"You?"
He dropped the shopping bag and advanced on Blakesley.
"You man," he pointed a finger into his chest, "you're lucky we're in a public place right now, or you'd be a dead man."
Blakesley
Blakesley looked down at the finger on his chest, up again with a contemptously cold look, then moved Christian's hand. "I would count yourself luckier that I am not equipped to deal with a capture today." He dropped Christian's hand like it was something nasty. "I was at Quantico also. Have you ever heard the sound frozen hands make after enduring subzero temperatures for over an hour? Sounds remarkably like wood."
Christian
"You sick... scientist," Christian looked him up and down with a sneer.
"You don't have any idea of who you're dealing with. And if you lay even a finger on Taylor, with my knowledge, you're not gonna have any fingers left when I'm through with you."
Blakesley
"And once more with the threats. Yet, somehow still living and quite intact. Your original was unable to keep from signing Natalia again at Anaheim. What makes you think you would be able to do any better? You're just a skewed copy." Blakesley looked at Christian with an even better, colder sneer. He'd had longer to perfect it. "He knelt at my feet. How long would it take you to do the same? That could be an interesting experiment to run in tandem...seeing as how he no longer remembers what happened the first time. Someone died for him, and Taylor does not even remember his name...put not your trust in princes. An apt saying."
Christian
"You just talk a load of crap," Christian shook his head.
"And as I just told you, the only reason you're still alive right now is because you're in a public place. Want to step into an alley and see how long you last?" Christian raised an eyebrow, indicating the nearest alley.
"I, unlike Taylor, had a much more effective upbringing. Your threats don't flatter me at all, because I assure you I've seen much worse than you could ever pull."
Blakesley
"I would sincerely doubt that," Blakesley said dryly. "And my mother told me not to go into allyways with people I don't know. Before my father killed her, of course." He raised an eyebrow slightly. "She was my first lesson in the art of torture. I was...fifteen." Blakesley chuckled slightly. "A very fond memory."
Christian
"I'm sure," Christian squinted slightly, a smile curving his lips.
"Torture is such a waste of time. I find it easier to kill and leave. My first lesson in murder would have been when I was about seven."
He stepped to the side a little, and began to walk in a circle around Blakesley.
"So were you always a Mama's Boy or what?"
Blakesley
Blakesley looked bored as he watched Christian walk. "First human, should I say. First alien was...hmm. Can't quite remember. There's been so many of them. And of course, there were animals before that from when I was about two onwards. Ever heard the sound a cat makes when you tie it up and tear a little hole in the soft skin of its abdomen? Every so often twisting the knife just a little? I think I made one last for over three days once. And as I commented to often to Taylor, young people today just don't appreciate the art that comes with torture. To force a suffering body to continually endure more and more pain, without letting it slip into the surcease of unconsciousness or death?" He gave Christian a contemptous look. "Any fool can kill. It takes an artist to torture. You're just a little thug, with little imagination and a pitiful excuse for intelligence."
Christian
"Woho!" Christian laughed, complete with a gesture of his hands.
"Mr. Scary, huh?"
He leant over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry that you like totals and ages," he whispered, "I'm afraid I've lost count of the amount of humans - and aliens - I've... 'dealt' with over the years."
He walked around to the front again, his eyes gazing the street.
"Face it Blakesley, you're just an old man in the business," he smiled at him, "there's a new generation stepping forward, and you're not gonna be a part of that. We'll be around long after you're gone, and there is absolutely nothing that you can do to stop us. You're just one, pitiful man caught up in a fantasy world of his own, with a habit of drawing other people into it."
He gasped.
"Careful. Alzeihmer'z disease is just around the corner."
Blakesley
"No, you're an amateur." Blakesley's sneer didn't slip. "If you weren't, you wouldn't have threatened to kill me. I'd be dead by now. Secondly, you haven't checked that I *don't* have snipers on the roofs and buildings around us. It's how Ms. Terry has obtained Jane twice now, and Taylor the once. Aliens don't seem to learn from their mistakes. Thirdly, you have no idea what type of technology I could be carrying. Fourthly, I know more about you then you know about me. Taylor was quite informative...after the first twenty or so burns. Fifthly, you obviously have no idea of how to estimate age. Accusing my father of Alzheimer's might be more fitting." Blakesley looked down at his watch for a moment, and fiddled with it. A transponder shot out of it and embedded itself in the fabric of Christian's shirt, unnoticed. "However, my father is still in control of all his facilities." If he could just keep this obnoxious brat talking for a bit longer...
Christian
Christian broke out laughing.
"You are an extremely underestimating man," Christian shook his head, almost sadly but with a grin on his face.
"Firstly, I already mentioned we're in a public place. Secondly, I always make sure I know where I'm going. I have contacts around basically every street corner. It comes with being brought up by the most wanted criminal on the face of the Earth," he couldn't help but sneer a little.
"Thirdly, I don't care what technology you're carrying. Unlike Taylor, who you seem to like to compare me to alot, my power is a *lot* more active. I can't use it in public. But I warn that I will if pushed. Fourthly, you know $#!+ about me, because Taylor knows $#! + about me. To know anything you would have to be a telepath, of which I know you are not. And lastly, I'm surprised you haven't realized that I don't give a $#!+ about you, so I just don't care."
He squinted again.
"You have some serious issues to work through, and a lot of homework to do if you can even think about trying to contain me. I am *not* as easy as that wuss of a Taylor Hanson. I would invite you to try and contain me, if you could," he opened his arms in a 'come get me' manner, "but know this... My power would allow me to break every single bone in your body without even touching you."
Blakesley
"And I thought you said you didn't have the time for torture? Though I suppose you'd do it all at once," Blakesley said thoughtfully, then shook his head slightly. "No, I'm not getting sidetracked. However intriguing it would be to do to someone. Perhaps that..." Blakesley got a small palmpilot out of his pocket and started pressing in notes. "I'm sorry, where you saying something? I think you were trying to convince me you were important. Besides the obvious research values as a clone. Haven't quite managed to get cloning right ourselves. Could quite possibly learn a lot from you." A small yellow light on his palmpilot started blinking, so Blakesley knew the transponder had activated. "And once more, any vestiges of respect I had for you go down even further, you spoiled little boy. Telekinetics are quite harmless with their eyes covered." He dotted in a few more notes. "You wouldn't be the first, and probably won't be the last telekinetic we have contained. It's a rather common power, both among alien hybrids and mutants."
Christian
"You know what?" Christian placed the palms of his hands together and leant his chin against his thumbs, "I have a friend that I would absolutely love for you to meet. Her name's Chloe. Spook met her, but... they didn't get a proper meeting, you know? Pity."
Then he laughed.
"I love it when people call me spoiled, or a freak. It just shows that they know absolutely nothing about me," he gestured down the street with his hand, "no one here has any idea, that this kid, this normal looking twenty-year-old guy could be a murderer. No one has any idea that he was brought up in different locations all over the country and trained as a hunter. An alien hunter. No one knows how easily it is for him to kill with a twitch of his eye."
He mused for a moment.
"You know... even vampires are a little telekinetic," he scratched his nose, "hybrids hardly have the power level of a full blooded alien. I was once told I was too powerful for my own good... that was when I thought I was a hybrid. Now I know the truth."
He opened his arms and stepped backwards.
"My level of power is a lot more than you've ever seen before. I know about you, Blakesley. I was there in Quantico. My father figure knew of you many years before now, you and all the other worthless pieces of trash that dare to call yourselves human."
He bent slightly to pick up the bag of shopping.
"You'll have to excuse me, I have a home to look after. I only hope it hasn't run away from me before I get back to it. The owner happens to be one of the two most powerful telepaths on the face of this Earth. It would be interesting for you to meet her sometime."
Blakesley
"Is she the bleeding heart imbecile who let Varian free?" Blakesley let a touch of anger colour his voice for a moment. "She has absolutely no idea what she is dealing with. Tell her when Varian matures and starts eating people and wreaking havoc with the weather and the earth, as it will most likely do due to the high levels of hostile DNA, then she can come and let the professionals take care of it. I created Varian, and it was contained for a reason. You aliens have very little idea of what you are dealing with there. And I would tell her to beware Jane's children." Blakesley slipped the palmpilot back into his pocket. "One of them will probably eat *her*. A stronger, faster telepathic, coercive and empathic demonically altered alien with bloodlust and a need to consume telepathic minds. The rest of what Jane's children are I'll leave the YIRAAAS to consider." Blakesley straigtened his cuffs. "As pleasant as it has been conversing with you, I have a meeting to go to. Good day." He nodded curtly and started walking away. "Tell the elder, the American government sends its regards. I'm sure even you can manage to remember that message."
Christian
Christian glared slightly, not letting his annoyance show.
"You obviously haven't listened to a single word I've said. I don't mingle with the YIRAAS. I said I was brought up by the most wanted criminal, and I am not lying even a little. You think they'd want me? You think they'd let me anywhere *near* the Elder when I've been hunting his ass for fifteen years?"
He shook his head.
"You're much dumber than you look."
And he headed into the alleyway, making his way back to Tanya's.
Blakesley
Blakesley gritted his teeth, letting a snarl of frustrated rage onto his face. It meant the woman in front of him looked frightened and moved out of his way. He ignored her and kept walking. He would of course make sure to get that impudent little brat into his labs and then...then the screaming would begin. He thought he was so brave and tough with his attitude? Blakesley would adore to see how long that lasted under the art. He checked his palmpilot. The little yellow light was happily blinking away. The encounter hadn't been a total loss then. "Until next time, Christian..."