"Planes of Existence"

AUTHOR: Mystisc25

RATING: R, for violence, language and mature situations

DISCLAIMER: Yes James Cameron owns Dark Angel, but that doesn't mean I don't have better story ideas then he does. So long as he doesn't sue me for them I won't be forced to throw frivolous lawsuits of my own in his face.

SUMMARY: In 2020 Max Guevera is involved in an accident. While Logan and Zack race against time to reach her before Lydecker does another battle for her safety is taking place –in 1944.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I suck at summaries so hopefully that got someone interested.

Before you read this story I will establish a few things:

1. It is set in Season One, somewhere after "Hit a Sista Back" but before "Meow"

2. Logan can walk without the aid of a wheelchair or an exoskeleton (let's just say he still could walk after "Kidz Are Aiight") I'm not denying the existence of Logan's handicap all together, just for this story. I understand that he did have a handicap in Season one but just forgive my cowardice in this story.

AUTHOR'S NOTE #2: This took me all summer to write (From May through July). I wrote it down by hand originally, spent many nights at my desk getting good inspiration (I felt like a scholar, hee hee.) I wanted to do a big stand-alone piece, so here it is. And I'm actually pretty proud of it. Hopefully you all will be too.

= = = CHAPTER ONE = = =

SEATTLE – FOGLE TOWERS

MAY 5, 2020

9:05 PM

"It's your move." Max rested her elbows against the table, mentally counting the number of black pawns she had already swiped with her white queen.

"I'm aware of that." Logan enlightened, gazing over his remaining pieces with the eye of a military war strategist, trying to find a way to take Max's queen that had already wiped out half of his chess pieces. "This game requires a keen sense of awareness, an eye for the opposition." He slid his rook to the back row of the board, capturing one of Max's bishops, and added proudly: "It's all about skill." He placed the bishop next to his other conquests.

"No, it's stalling." Max corrected matter-of-factly, sliding her queen into a well though out position on the board. "Check."

Logan glanced over the pieces and a look of stunned confusion made his forehead crease. "Is that—checkmate?"

"You know the rules of this game as well as I do." Max returned with a hint of a coy smile playing across her lips. She couldn't help gloating at her advanced chess playing abilities.

"Was there a class at Manticore that taught you the significance of bragging rights?" Logan asked, glancing up from the game to stare into Max's familiar brown eyes that he believed was trapping all the light in the room because they were so dark.

Max shook her head negatively at Logan's question on her skill level. "The process of bragging rights when you win against your adversary can't be learned. It's an acquired privilege after you make a take down."

"What if I told you that I was an ace level player at this game until you showed up?"

"Whatever you hafta tell yourself to ease the sting from loosing to a girl." Max teased in a deadpan voice.

Logan couldn't help laughing quietly at her answer. She was the only woman he knew that was capable of kidding around with such a serious tone in her voice. "So it's like that is it?" He questioned, his smile still there.

"'Fraid so," Max agreed with a smile of her own. It was a contagious action. She raised the sleeve of her royal blue v-neck sweater to check her watch. "This girl's gotta blaze." She stood up from the black chair she had been sitting at during the game. Her leather jacket hung on the back of the chair and she slid it on her body in a single flawless motion.

"Well I appreciate you showing me your moves." Logan remarked in a lighthearted manner.

A genuine smile spread across Max's face. "Anything I can do to further the advancement of knowledge for the little people is worth spending time over." Her eyes locked on his and she found herself captivated by their crystal blue orbs. "See ya around." She smiled at him again, as genuine as before but also hinting at something more in the silence.

But before Logan could decipher it Max turned around and walked to his front door. He watched her the entire time, silently admiring the way her toned form fit into her leather jacket and jeans.

Max turned her back around and caught him watching her. Her full bottom lip vibrated on the formation of a word but nothing came out. Whatever hidden meaning had been behind her earlier smile was now expressing itself throughout her entire face. And for one brief instant Logan imagined her closing the door and slinking back to his living room to play another 'game' besides chess.

He blinked once and that fantasy fell apart by the sounds of her black boots stepping over the threshold and the quiet 'clunk' of his front door closing behind her.

Only after Max had disappeared from his line of sight did Logan release the breath that he had been holding.

XXXXXXXXX

Max's body formed easily to the contours of her black Kawasaki Ninja 650 motorcycle. She straddled the seat like a lover she met up with at night to do things that only went on behind closed doors. Her hand torqued the throttle resting underneath the handlebars and it awaked the DOHC 8 valve engine from its slumber. She revved up the motor a few times to circulate the gas in the engine to prevent it from coagulating. She raised the kickstand from the road and shifted the Ninja into 'drive' pulling out of the concrete parking garage of Fogle Towers.

Outside the sun had long gone down and the black sky was now bathed in the artificial pale yellow and white light from the streetlight that sat on either side of the fence like barrier of the overpass that prevented the cars from going over the edge. A thin sidewalk ran along the edges of the streetlight and dozens of the homeless were camped out it, taking up the space between each streetlight.

Max rode on through the poster for the downfall of a political super power and the sight of her bike drew the attention of scruffy looking children in torn cloths that stared at the bike longing for the statues that came with owning such a powerful machine.

Max slowed the bike down at the intersection exit that lead down to her neighbor hood. She sat behind a petroleum tanker truck at, and after a minted of observing the rain drops that had collected on the license the traffic light changed to green and the Ninja began to inch forward with the rest of the traffic. Max peeled ahead of a chrome colored Hyundai Alantra that had been stopped in a drag race position beside the tanker truck at the light. She was halfway through the intersection when the sounds of panicked honking reached her ears. And she turned in time to see a blue Jeep Cherokee swerve into a ditch to avoid a pair of blinding white head lights that were headed right at her.

She heard the sound of the 2,500 pound yellow Hummer slam into her bike before she felt it, it sounded like an artillery tank rumbling at her on a collision course. The Hummer's body rammed into the back of the Ninja sending it into a tailspin against the sudden force and the impact threw Max off the seat and she rolled across the rock hard asphalt smacking her front brow into the 17-inch hub of the Ninja's front wheel. Max flipped over once more before both bike and rider finally came to a sickening halt against the concrete barrier that lined the edges of the sidewalk. Max landed in a slumped position beside her mangled bike. Blood gushed from her forehead and the hideous stain also coated the cracked headlights of the Ninja.

"Oh my god!" A woman's voice screamed from the seat of her Alantra. She had just witnessed the horrible accident. "That fucker ran a red light and hit that motorcycle! Call an ambulance!"