Max tries to meet up with Walter.

It was the sound of the heavy drumming of rain on the aluminum roof sheets that had Max's mind racing with the images of her youth.

Manticore.

The place where she had grown up. On wet days like this she would be up at god forsaken hours crawling through the mud, keeping low to the ground as she crept under low placed rows of barbed wire, over her the eight soldiers would fire their automatic weapons giving her and her siblings the feel of being in a war zone.

She was nine years old.

That was the life fate had shoved her into, if you could call a genetically engineered freak a product of fate.

The rain continued to fall without let up with thunder rolling through the clouds. She was standing in the lower east side of the city where she was suppose to of met Walter an hour ago.

"Fuck", she muttered to herself. Her beeper was going off. She took it out and looked at the cracked screen.

Loft. 10 minutes. Simmons.

"Fuck", she grimaced again reading off the message.

Down the street she caught sight of the red and blue flashes of police sirens, a squad car driving toward her; Walter, it had to be.

Max looked at her beeper then down the street at the approaching car. If she didn't go an see Simmons, he might suspect she were up to something, but she needed to see Walter, needed to know if he would help her.

What was she going to do?