WHO: Ryan Jackson WHAT: He's taking a trip to familiar ground WHERE: Jam Pony, Seattle, Washington WHEN: Late Wednesday night WARNINGS: Nothing major
It wasn’t the first time that Ryan was going to Jam Pony. He’d been at least a dozen times before, mostly in secret, especially from his brother. Ryan was always worried about talking about anything directly related to being a transgenic around Rhett, afraid that it would be the thing that snapped him. Ben’s mind was fragile, and Ryan was afraid that it would take Rhett’s with it one day. He didn’t like to dwell on those thoughts, on the idea that one day he and Morgan might have to kill his brother. Alec hadn’t been close to Ben, had only even known about him due to the repercussions Alec suffered from Ben’s killing spree, so he wouldn’t, couldn’t understand. So Jam Pony was his little secret. The others knew it existed, but he didn’t broadcast that he sometimes went there when things in the real world just didn’t make sense.
Ryan parked his bike in the alley next to the building, climbing off of it with ease. Ryan rode nearly as well as he walked, something that he probably owed to Alec but preferred to take the credit for himself. It helped that he had the reflexes and skills of an X5 to enhance his abilities, and, ultimately, his confidence. It had made the drive from Los Angeles to Seattle bearable, even though it had taken nearly a whole day to make the trip. And not a whole day in normal people’s terms that meant daylight hours; thanks to his transgenic DNA, Ryan didn’t need to sleep, and had driven the full twenty hours in nearly one go. Stops for food and gas couldn’t be helped. Of course, it probably would have been faster to take the MTN, but at the end of the day he just trusted his bike more. It also meant he got to drive through the defunct sector borders, which was downright hysterical to Alec.
The building was as dilapidated as it had ever been, with cracks in the bricks more normal than seeing a whole one. The door to get inside stuck a little from lack of use, and Ryan had had to put some muscle into getting it open, but eventually he was stepping inside onto the dirty concrete that was littered with crunchy leaves that had found their way inside through broken windows. He scanned the room quickly; Jam Pony was well known to any reincarnate from Dark Angel, and that didn’t necessarily mean he’d find friends there. White, and anybody who worked at Manticore, would know about this place, too. He could easily be walking into a trap, and he was mindful of that every time he came. Nothing was registering, though, not even with his enhanced senses, with the exception of a family of squirrels who had made a home in the corner.
Ryan meandered around the building, stopping at the usual places. The lockers where Alec socialized, the upstairs landing where they’d made their last stand, the bike racks where rusted bikes now hung covered in cobwebs, and finally the office that Normal sat in behind glass to hand out their runs. Ryan planted himself on the chair, enjoying a private laugh when he thought about how Normal would react if he were there. Alec had been his golden boy when his status as a transgenic was hidden, but he’d been plenty betrayed when he’d found out the truth. Ryan expected that if Normal was there, Ryan would have gotten a hefty punch in the face.
The abandoned building was quiet, which was good. It meant he could think, even though there wasn’t much he really needed to think about. He already knew what he wanted to do, had known since before he’d left for Seattle even. There was just a constant nagging feeling in his gut about Manticore. He wanted to go check it out, to prove to himself that it was shut down. He needed a plan though. A plan for the “what if?” What if it wasn’t shut down? What if he got caught? He couldn’t just go charging in there without some sort of plan, and that plan could never involve his brother. He knew he wanted to go alone. That was as far as he’d gotten.
Ryan’s phone buzzed and he checked it. It was a message from Rhett, wondering where he was. The response was a supremely vague “I’ll be back in a couple of days,” which he hoped would be good enough for Rhett. For now, he leaned back in the chair, and focused on counting the cracks in the ceiling.