Unexpected return - pt2

(( The following is an IC, RP based post ))

Relief flooded through Logan as she came out, relief in the form of being a smart ass.

“Wouldn't be nice to walk away from you that far.” Usagi’s blush sent a spike of shame through his body. He knew that didn’t need to be like this with her.

"No... no it wouldn't..." Usagi said, apparently chastened, but her reddened cheeks, and downcast gaze twisted the shame in Logan’s heart, cutting him as deeply as if he had hit her. His compliment wasn’t expected.

“You are still too attractive by half than you should be when you blush. Puts dirty thoughts in my mind.” He smiled at her, pushing away from the wall and moving down the passage, still nearly empty despite the time. Logan managed not to look back and see if she followed, he could hear her moving after him.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Logan’s head starting to spin from the alcohol and thoughts of Usagi as his friend, then lover, then friend. Just as he was about to stop and face her, her hand wrapped around his bicep pulling him aside in the corridor, stopping them both. “Tired of looking at my ass?” He quipped, her direct gaze, though distracted, answered honestly, sending a thrill through his body.

“No.” She said, her eyes alight with something else. She looked down and then reached up with her hands, her soft fingers brushing against his cheeks, holding his face. Her touch alone sent every nerve in his body on edge, his head instantly getting light as he looked down at her, rising on her toes. Her words a small buzz in his ears.

As Logan regained focus Usagi pressed closer to him. “Do you think I'm worth this?” She said, Logan replied by instinct, the insect like humming closing in on his ears.

“Worth what?” Logan answered as Usagi slid up further on her feet, pressing into his body. Everywhere she touched his body buzzed, her lips on the side of his mouth made his eyes flutter and close, his body reacting instinctively. He would remind her how much trouble kissing him was. His hands slid around her small waist, reversing their positions in an instant, pinning her against the wall with a soft, muffled, thud; his long body supporting and pushing at hers as they kissed.

Logan, his mind near lost in the contact, followed through by pressing her small form hard against the wall, her soft lips parting for him, before he snapped back to a brutal cold reality. She had left him like nothing, nothing. Repelled, he pushed back, slipping away from her in an instant.

“What the fuck Usagi.”

His mind echoed, indeed, what the fuck. Deep down he still felt like nothing, alone, but her body pressed against his, her kiss, it rekindled something just as deep he had assumed dead. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, dripping down his face unabashedly.

Confused and lost, Logan gave in - “Of course you are worth it.” ‘Was she?’

Her hands slid down his body, first down his chest and then to his waist. His stomach lurched as if he was jumping into a star ringed with hostiles.

The cynical part of his mind warned, ‘You’re on your own now buddy.” The chance lit deep in his heart wouldn’t yield. ‘Stupid...’

“You’re more important to me than anything,” Usagi admitted as she looked over at him. Logan thoughts twisted, unwilling to be abandoned again. Treated like so much trash.

"You've got a hell of a way of showing it." It all came back with the way she had left him, without thought, without saying anything. That’s not how it was supposed to be, not how it could ever be again. Could he trust her again not to leave? His mind answered simply:

‘No.’

“I just -- like I said, I was… am… scared,” Usagi interrupted Logan’s thpoughts as she rested her head on Logan’s chest; her hair tickling the underside of his nose. “Scared you’ll lose… your…....soul. And become a shell.”

“Like him.” Usagi said those last two words with such careless grace that it broke over Logan like a crushing wave. All emotion drained out of him, not even anger would hold.

“Like who?” Logan reached out to her, but she turned away ready to head down the passageway.

“It doesn’t matter. Lead on.” No other words could have cemented Logan in his spot so thoroughly.

Logan’s words were heavy, tired, and hung in the air, anchored, like him, to the spot. “It does matter to me.” Usagi slipped away with a sigh, looking guiltily around the station, her eyes passing over billboards and storefronts.

“Vendrin.” She paused for a second. “I guess you never get over having your first love walk away from you, claiming he's lost the ability to feel... to be human.”

Logan, having feared a far worse name, or a more recent name, laughed with relief. Vendrin was a pilot and director for Rote and Stimulus as well, but Logan and him had never gotten along fantastically. Vendrin was rather a shell of a man. “Never did like that guy. Guess it is a good thing I am not just a better fuck, but also still capable of emotion.”

“Perhaps it wasn't love. I did bail on APEX when they needed me." Usagi turns back to Logan, chuckling. "Perhaps the love I felt was just guilt?" She turned away again, laughing, louder, “Guilt. Me. Hilarious.”

“Why a problem with guilt?” Logan, still relieved from her earlier admission, was admittedly lost in her sudden guilt.

“When I was first having problems with the State. When I cared about such things... His acceptance of me into APEX. He took me in knowing I was a criminal - an outcast… He allowed me a chance for redemption.”

She giggled again, turning to lean, face forward, into the wall, her giggle becoming a laugh. “Because back then, well, I guess I needed such things.” She pushed back from the wall, turning to look at Logan. “He protected me from myself…” Her smile dropped suddenly “And I repaid him by walking away… What goes around, comes around, huh?”

Logan could just nod, she wasn’t really talking to him anymore, just talking to say it. Logan just mumbled what her thought made sense. “Sometimes in the worst ways possible.”

Usagi turned seemingly at the sound of his voice and started closing the distance, still talking. “Yup. You know I'm broken. You know I'm barely worth the biomatter it takes to clone me. Do you really want…” She points to herself "...this?" and then between them, clearly pointing out the relationship. "This?"

Momentarily Logan wondered how he had been so wrong about her not being interested and about them being nothing. He reconsidered, wondering if this was just her way of trying her best. He could only answer honestly. “I don't think it's quite as simple as a yes or no question like that Usagi, but I'm willing to give it a try again. Up until you run away again.”

“I can’t promise that I won’t.. but…” Usagi takes Logan’s hand and places it on her cheek. “I can promise that I … will… try..,” Usagi slipped up as if getting ready to kiss Logan. Rather, she ends up running her tongue up his cheek.

The wet contact of her tongue pushed all the negative thoughts of the day from Logan, some of his former joviality coming into the mix. “Now I know it's been a while but you should remember my cheek isn't what you usually lick.” He smiled down at her, wiping the trail of her tongue off his cheek. Hoping his rough stubble had at least tickled her tongue.

Usagi’s shock was as funny as it was fake. “Sir, we're in a public corridor!”

“Never stopped you before, last time I checked you liked all the extra attention you got while getting fucked or on your knees in a public place. Such an attention whore." He smirks at her and starts walking down the corridor. Logan turned his head, speaking over his shoulder - “Besides, we never said we would hop back into each others pants so quickly.” He could hear a muted disagreement from his body, still buzzing from her touch. His mind stood firm though.

“Fair enough,” she seemingly surrendered. Logan turned back around, still walking. Something warm wrapped itself around the back of his head, straps dancing over the edge of his vision. He deftly caught her shirt while turning, his eyes dancing over her now exposed chest.

Usagi must have thought she was far enough from him to escape his grasp as she said - “I guess I’ll head home. For now.” She wasn’t expecting his quick movements; three strides bringing him back in arm's reach of her half naked body. His arm slid around her back, keeping her in place.

Logan couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at her. “Oh no, I think now’s a perfect time for a nice, long walk.”

Her smirk was torture as she looked down his body. “You've got the walking stick. Lead the way.” He could feel tension he didn’t know he had been holding drift out of his body, or rather to a more specific point on his body, but he felt better than he had in days.

“Judging by the way you are practically drooling, you think it's more of a lollipop. So why the rush to get back to your quarters?” Logan looked at her and then started near dragging her into a walk next to him.

“That may have been your breakfast, but I've been drinking for hours.” She smiled over to him, practically shoving her enhanced chest into his side, causing more than a little distraction.

“Poor thing, You can leave if you want to, this shirt is my property until I see you next.” He punctuated his comment by sliding his hand down her body and grabbing her still perfect ass, smacking it sharply. He could hear the gasp down the hallway as a man, his wife and daughter came around the corner. The mother was busy trying to cover the obviously interested late years teenaged daughters eyes, while the husband was busy near tripping over himself and a nearby bench.

Usagi slid herself around Logan, her hand sliding over the front of his pants, tugging. “All yours. I've got plenty.” She pushed up again, kissing Logan and biting his lip, before pulling away. “I'll see you soon.”

Logan could just nod, his feelings suddenly back to warring inside his chest. Usagi taking his free hand and adding “I promise.” before drifting away.

Almost to himself Logan murmurs “Hope so.” His mind taking a mental picture as Usagi began to bound away. Or maybe skip was the right word. Either way she moved quickly.

Logan’s hangar was not far away, it was time to do the other thing he was good at.

Unexpected Return - Pt 1

((The following post is IC and refects the relationship between Logan and Usagi))

Logan’s eyes cracked up just enough for the dim light in his capsuleer quarters to guide him to the bathroom, this mornings vomit was an odd orange color, making him wonder what exactly last night had brought up. His stomach grumbled, hungry now that it was empty, even while his bile still burnt the back of this throat. Shrugging he spent a few minutes doing his usual morning routine, missing the familiar aches his body had associated with the last year of heavily training various forms of martial arts.

 A quick step through the shower made him feel a bit less like the underside of a bar stool, and hopefully smell less like one, a plain black t-shirt, loose pants, and station issued boots at least let him walk out the door. The hallway lights burned the backs of his eyeballs as the door opened, making him realize he had gotten dressed entirely in the semi-darkness of his room, even having assumed all the lights were on.

 His head, unnoticed before throbbed painfully from last nights activities. At least his bed had remained single occupancy he mused as he crossed the threshold to the station with a quick glance backwards.

 Just a few levels down was a dive bar with some kind of mystery meat designed to cure his every ailment, or at least weeks of experimentation proved as much. His feel knew the way in any case and he found himself quickly at the door.

 The bar was blessedly darker than the station hallways or common areas, hiding all kinds of sins he was sure. He slunk over to his usual corner booth, ignoring the rest of the patrons and terrible music.

 A form materialized next to his table, after a few minutes. Jillian, the waitress, must be on her game today he mused. He heard her say “Logan” and was confused, never having told the waitress his name. He looked up, expecting to quickly order, but his words caught in his throat. “I-”

 Wait, this was not Jillian, a red-head, impish smile, smart mouth, grey, camo shirt, he blinked for a moment, then a moment more. 

 “Usagi?” He reaches up with a hand, giving his eyes a quick rub to make sure he isn't seeing things, or people. "Usagi? really? What did I drink last night?" His mind raced, he hadn’t seen her in months, and before that years. 

 She still stood there, when his hand cleared his eyes, saying something about drinking. She indicated the seat across from him. “May I?” Logan couldn’t tell if his body tripped over itself in response while his mind flurried with questions.

 "Sure, please. Be my guest." Smooth, way to be nice. His eyes betrayed him for a moment, watching her slide into the seat, appreciating the extra time she seemed to be giving it, almost as if to not spook him.

 “How’s it going?” She asked as she sat. She seemed almost nonchalant, as if seeing just another alliance mate after a few months. He couldn’t think of what to say….

 “I, uh, good I suppose, haven't seen you in a while, not since you came back from prison... I think it was at least?” Logan grimaced, internally. What a shit question, but out of everything running through his mind it seemed the acceptable median between grabbing her and kissing, and cursing madly at her before walking out.

 Usagi handled it like a pro, filling in some details about where she had been. Logan filed away that information for later follow up, but couldn’t help but stare. Maybe his mind was finally waking up, or eyes getting used to being open, Usagi sitting across from him, just seemed so much better than he remembered.

 The waitress, finally arrived, he could feel her glance over the two of them; a near instant cooling of her attitude from when she practically waited on him hand and foot, drooling over every word he uttered. Still, the hangover cure beckoned. Usagi beat him to the punch ordering two tequila shots and then turning to face him. “What would you like? On me, of course.”

 It was impossible to filter the images that poured into his mind from memory and fantasy. All the unspeakable acts that innuendo brought to his mind, then that smirk brought home before she quickly, maybe a little too quickly, added “Err, I'm buying.”

 Logan felt the shit eating grin split his face, but it was probably too apparent to Usagi and Logan instead quickly looked over at Jillian, though the smile was meant for Usagi it may have melted Jillian as well. “I’ll just take my usual.” Jillian nodded, and moved off.

 His eyes slid traitorously (or was it gratefully?) back to Usagi. She met him with a flat stare. “Come here often?”

 He wanted to say so much just then, but didn’t, taking the easy out and answering the question instead. “Every time I drink like I did last night at least.... so yeah.” Logan smiled, “Pretty often. You?” 

 Wow, of course she didn’t or you would have seen her given the hours you spend in here doofus….

 “First time,” Logan nods, keeping his lips pressed together to block his traitorous mouth. Usagi smiled back at him, her eyes taking a far away look for a brief moment. “For some reason today I just had an urge to check this place out…”

 Jillian returned with their order, carefully sliding the plate of hashbrowns and meat under his nose, a mug of still steaming coffee placed next to the plate. Usagi’s shots were more hurriedly delivered, causing Logan to cringe a bit, wary of the rage Usagi might fly into should some of the liquid be spilled.

 Logan’s mouth opened, uttering “You sure it wasn’t the sign advertising two shots of tequila for the price of one?” Logan wondered what, or if he was thinking, his mind seemed to be fuzzy, almost unable to control his words, or body. His words were the problem though, could he say any more stupid shit?

 Usagi just seemed to agree, “That's certainly a more logical conclusion than some kind of divine inspiration.” In Logan’s mind eye he could see himself passing judgement on the conversation, frustrating him further. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten drunk last night this would be going better? Fuck.

 Logan’s eyes drifted back up to Usagi, and was once again struck by her. “You look a little different Usagi.” There was something there, something different he couldn’t quite place. Something in her eyes, or behind them…

 She took the first of her shots, apparently having toyed with it enough, prompting Logan to start digging into his food as well. She looked up at him after the shot, “Oh?” Usagi self consciously ran a hand through her hair, bringing back memories of her doing the same to his hair, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

 “I guess I have had my hair lightened…” No, it had nothing to do with her hair, or her body, though they both looked better than his memory could recall…

 Logan’s hand’s idled on his coffee, twisting the mug back and forth, trying to put words to what he saw, “Can't put my finger on it though, just better than you looked in my memory I suppose.”

 Usagi’s slow grin caught Logan off guard, pushing him back in his chair as if getting ready for an attack. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh.”

 Logan couldn’t help but laugh, wondering what he had gotten into. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Usagi’s arms slid to her sides, pushing out her chest. Wait her chest had never been that big? Logan’s gaze locked on her chest despite his attempts not to leer.

 “Best plastic surgeon in Venal. I had some work done on my butt as well, but you can't really tell with these baggy pants on.” Logan tried, hard, not to think what that all looked like, uncovered, but failed. He wasn’t immune to her no matter what torment resided in his chest. “You like?”

 For once Logan’s dirty mind saved him as he thought of her suddenly bikini-clad, inspiring his comment: “Not exactly what I was referring to, though they are very nice. Better in a bikini I bet.” The wink at the end felt like overkill but the thought of her stretched out in a bikini blocked any shame he might have felt.

 Usagi’s response was serious, her head cocked to the side, “Then what…?”

 Her hand slid across the barren table, grabbing a small piece of his hash, and then chomping it down hungrily. He hurriedly, but carefully cut off a few pieces of the wonder meat.

 Still at a loss, “Said, I couldn’t define it….” He slid the plate towards the middle of the table, the greasy meat lubricating his mind a bit more. “Why did you have work done on your ass? It was a masterpiece.” Perfectly round, muscular but not too muscular… No work needed there.

 Usagi grabbed a piece of the meat, gratefully, devouring it quickly before she spoke.. “I guess having an obsession with Gallente pop idols will put weird ideas into your head…” Logan nodded, remember Usagi’s penchant for the strange music; music that had more than one time that music had led to bed, or the floor, or both.

 Usagi took her second shot quickly, finishing her thought, “..about how one is 'supposed' to look.”

 “Well I hope he didn't fuck it up or the universe has lost something impressive.” A mistake the alleged doctor would die for it if true.

 Usagi, disinterestedly looked for the waitress, seemingly all too ready to depart, begging mentally that Jillian keep her distance for just a few moments. Then Usagi spun Logan’s world on it’s side.

 “I’ve heard no complaints.” Logan’s mind raced, paused, raced again. Not even her catched comment of “Not that I've been parading it around…” Saved the thoughts. Of course Logan, of course, it’s been a while, why would she even remember, or care what you thought. She’s just sitting here with an old mate, maybe back then she cared. Now….

 “Been soliciting them?” His comment came out unbidden, angry, hurt, despite the smug smile resting on his lips. Her head already turning to deny, it just wasn’t enough. “You sure about that?” Logan seethed as Jillian, of course, picked that - THAT - moment to reappear..

 Logan didn’t want to wait for an answer. He found himself wishing he had brought his gun and knife to get an answer quicker by dismissing the interloper. Usagi ordered some more drinks, Iced tea, and some of the same thing Logan had in front of him. Her words still echoed in Logan’s head... 

 ‘No complaints’

 Usagi’s answer was both not believable and too hasty, “ehh… yes?” The quick answer drove Logan crazier, jealousy licking his mind. He looked back over her body, this time really taking it in, realizing the implications. Of course Usagi had taken lovers, used that body (or at least a just as remarkable facsimile) without him. A quiet voice passed through the back of his head asking if he hadn’t done the same?

 “If you are trying to emulate your pop idols I am surprised you are not wearing even less. Keeping it decent around the alliance mates?” Logan’s mind writhed, caught between the petty comment and the swarm of feelings long suppressed.

 “Surely it's not been so long that you'd forgotten that I have no decency?” Thoughts filled Logan’s mind of all the times shared with her and less clothes. One particular notion of her in this; a little nothing she had picked up a few hours before at the Crystal Boulevard.

 Logan let out a small laugh “No just remembering the time you went shopping on the Crystal Boulevard. And the things you returned with.” No decency and certainly no end to the fun with that outfit.

 “I'd say this attire is my 'go away drunken executives' outfit.” Usagi mentioned, pointedly. Logan wondered if he was in that group of executives… “Not as if there are any on these levels, but still…”

 Unsteadily Logan added, amidst a laugh, and a sip of coffee, trying to delay his words. “You always did have the ability to draw attention from those management types. I think they just like the bad girl aura you have.” He saw and felt the ice form over the conversation at that instant and nearly ran from the bar. The hell was he thinking? He knew in the back of his mind the things that would turn her sour, and heedless had headed for the same.

 Logan, struggling now, remembered the comment he had put away for later, hoping to turn the conversation back to better things. “How is your father doing?” This was not at all how he wanted this conversation to be going, but couldn’t really say how it was he wanted it to go in the first place.

 It was small consolation when her food arrived, meanwhile his foot had finally found his stomach, the greasy faire’s near medicinal effects providing some lubrication for the rocks banging around in his head, calming his headache by each passing minute.

 “Well, thanks. Sleeping on piles of ISK when I saw him last.” Usagi munched on the food, cutting a strip of the steak off and chewing on it greedily. Her quick stop, mid bite, was startling as she spat out “What the fuck is this?” Her face contorted; her expression silently, but demandingly questioning ‘what am I even tasting?’. His tongue moved through his mouth, feeling the strange, slightly slimy residue that coated the inside of his mouth.

 “Supposed to be some kind of steak... I just know it clears up my hangover every time.” Logan filled his mouth with another bite of steak, munching slowly.

 Usagi resumed eating as well, muttering, “I wasn't complaining, mind you. Just couldn't quite figure it out.” She laughed a bit, adding, “Guess it's been awhile since I've had quality meat.”

 Logan’s eyebrows shot up at her comment, his mind wandering down a dirty path, suggestively adding "How long exactly?"

 Usagi’s laugh and eye roll felt good, almost a relief to Logan after the dark thoughts of her with other men. Suddenly so much more palatable if they were shitty in bed. “A while” was her retort, soothing Logan further, making him blurt out, “Good answer.”

 It was strange, almost as if the hurt left by her departure could toss words to ruin any good feeling Logan had of this conversation. “You sure you can still handle quality meat?” Logan caught himself, trying to inflect the comment as a joke, tossing a large grin over at her before chugging down the rest of his coffee.

 Usagi was obviously not expecting the retort, coughing as she replied “I guess *cough* I'll not know *cough* till I find *cough* some…”

 Then trying to buy time to regain her composure she adds, “So….”

 Once again, Logan lost control over his mouth, or maybe said what he was really thinking. “You looking for some, or just looking to waste some time?” He felt like his words hung in the air for eternity, unable to pull his eyes off Usagi, as he waited for her to answer. Or kick him. Something.

 She just avoided his gaze, slouching down in her seat as the question was finally, if poorly asked. The question that had been hanging in the air between them since she sat down. ‘Do you care, do you want me?’ 

 Her answer broke the eternity. “I don't fucking know what I'm looking for, to be entirely honest.” No, Logan thought, no, no no. She pushed her food away, “Every time I think I know what I want, I run off because I want something else.” Logan’s mind laughed, he was right, she had gone off seeking someone, something else, something other than him.

 She cared for him as nothing more than a passing fancy. Rage bottled up inside of him, but he couldn’t turn away. He suddenly wanted to be sick again, his chest wrenching in a most humiliating way.

 They had been nothing.

 “Fair enough, you just never said that before, and then completely disappeared on me, had been kinda hoping there was more to us than nothing."

 Usagi’s nod was just further indictment they had been nothing. Even if her soft words denied it. "I never thought we were nothing," she denied, still not looking up. Logan couldn’t handle it, had to say something, anything.

 “Well that's all you made me feel like, when you decided to leave. Twice.” His heart felt on the brink of breaking for a moment before an unexplainable urge to toss her over the table overrode his senses. “The shitty thing is my body still just wants to throw you over this table and make you earn forgiveness in front of all these people.”

 Logan briefly dreamt of her spread out on the table, under him, writhing, begging for forgiveness, earning it. It was a pipe dream. “I know Jillian over there would enjoy the show. But I know that's not really a solution.” No matter how much he wished it was so simple.

 Usagi’s voice wasn’t audible over the twang of the music, just her lips moving for a second. Logan read her lips. “I'm not a good person, I'm not a good friend, I'm not a good lover…” She looked over at Logan, meeting his gaze, finally. “All I really deserve is to be handled for what I am…”

 Her words struck a humorous chord. Them, good people, good friends? As if capsuleers could be. It made this whole conversation nearly hysterical. Two killers, two absolute terrorists, being torn apart by feelings, of all things. Logan broke into a laugh. “I don't think either of us would qualify as a good friend or a good person, But don't you ever say shit about you not being a good lover.” The last bit came out as a bit of a mutter, his mind returning to the gutter. “Or I wouldn't be comparing every woman to you.”

 Usagi took a few breaths, poised to speak, but Jillian arrived just in time to forstal her, Logan making the quick decision for two shots. Usagi remained silent until  Jillian moved away. Usagi murmured something; something Logan missed entirely. 

"What was that Usagi?" Logan looked up, staring at Usagi.

 “I’m scared.” She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes hurriedly, “I'm fucking terrified,”

 Logan still didn’t follow. “Of what?”

 “Of you.” What? Why?

 “I--” She sighs, stopping, “Do you know what happened the last time I told someone that I loved them? They told me that they were incapable of love and walked away. That hurt like hell; I can't handle that with you. I can't -- I can't let you leave me like that…” Her features set in a hard line, staring over at him, like it was his fault. Like it was him who had left her, forced her to feel.

 Logan just nodded, deflecting, “I remember, I also remember I was not that person.” He looked back at her, steel in his gaze as she compared him to another man.

 She stammered, maybe from his gaze, maybe because she was searching for another excuse. “I know, I know... But you're the same as him. The same as me.”

 Logan snorted, bottling his emotions again. “So instead it seemed like a good idea to walk away and make me feel like you did before I had the chance to do the same thing to you?” So you did exactly what happened to you to me, to save yourself. Logan found it impossible to keep his anger out of his eyes and instead looked away from Usagi for a moment. 

 "I'd rather you think of me as manipulative scum than realize I'm simply a coward."

 Just then Jillian arrived with his two shots, and while his mouth opened to say something, he filled it with first one and then the other shot, downing both in an instant. The searing liquid reminding him of why he had been throwing up a few hours ago.

 “I'm sorry. I-- I shouldn't be acting this way.” Usagi said, looking for some kind of absolution, but it just wasn’t there with Logan, his rage had trickled down his body, pooling in his feet, and now, now he had to move.

 Logan slid out of his seat, looking at Usagi as he stood next to the booth, trying to decide if he wanted to leave her here or drag her with him. He gave her the choice. “What way should you be acting?"

 Usagi’s head slid into her hands, and for a moment Logan wondered if she thought he was about to hit her, looming like this. Instead she just replied - “Like a damned adult, not some high school drama queen..."

 That was a good enough answer, and Logan turned on his heel, headed for the door. “Well then come on adult Usagi, it's time to take a walk.” He slipped out the door well ahead of Usagi and started away from the bar, intending to force her to run to catch up to him. Walking away like this seemed a bit overdramatic, he realized, turning again to retrace his few steps back to the bar. Leaning on the wall next to the door, waiting for Usagi to emerge. In that brief moment, months of memories and thoughts darted through his mind.

 The most dreadful was that Usagi had thought of them as nothing; they were at best, friends who fucked. Logan mused at the asshole he had been during the conversation, and wondered if Usagi would even come with him. Moments passed, and then minutes. 

 Maybe she wasn’t coming out. Logan stirred a bit, adjusting his clothes, preparing himself to walk away this time. Before he could move, the door sprang open, Usagi coming hurriedly out, looking the opposite way first.

((Pt 2 - Wednesday))

When death knocks on your door

It's often said that capsuleers don't like to get their hands dirty. Or at least not physically dirty. In fact, apparently, most spend little time outside of their pods, even less interacting with baseliners. If you could call this, 'interacting.' I guess I was the exception. I liked getting dirty, doing things myself. It made me feel... connected. Like the effort I was putting in wasn't wasted. I leaned back in focused at the task at hand.

My knife was performing admirably. Cutting, no, that implied more effort than I was expending. Slipping was much more fitting. Slipping between the thin layer of skin, and that of the muscle and fat. Who knew those hunting trips down on the surface of Pator all those years ago would teach me such valuable skills? Or that this knife would remain sharp after so many cuts?

Fresh blood welled on parts of the exposed muscle, providing a slight, sweat like sheen. Severed nerve endings must be pumping an overload of sensation back to their host, speaking of... I looked back up at his face.

My eyes met his, just then a nearly inaudible, but imploring, groan left his lips. He had long since screamed himself functionally mute, but the drugs I had pumping through his system kept him awake enough to feel everything. His breaths pushed small drips of blood from his mouth, his tongue swollen now, pressing against his ragged teeth.

I went back to work on his body, a bit impressed he had lasted this long, but not impressed by his other failings. 'He' was the captain of a merchant ship in Amarr space, 'he' had operated for me in the Sasen Constellation. 'He' wasn't a capsuleer or this torture would have been largely irrelevant, but 'he' HAD committed a cardinal sin.

It wasn't every simple, a while back, perhaps a year or more ago, he started working for someone else before leaving my employ. Trying to double down on profits I suppose. His mistake was working with the very people I was having him spy on. Some Angel Cartel slavers, the very people I was using him to keep an eye on. Sometimes watching Angels was easier when you weren't doing so from a pod. Compounding that mistake, he had gotten caught by the otherwise inept Amarr customs navy, loaded down with small arms I was supplying certain cells on certain planets with, and a contraband load of slaves.

I didn't blame him for singing like a bird to the local authorities after his capture, singing a sweet deal indeed. I suppose he didn't think he would ever be found again, or he just hoped he would not. His real sin was singing a tune that revealed a well placed cell of anarchists. Endangering several more I had set in place years ago. Most of their number had been captured and lost to the Amarr system, likely never to be seen again.

It had taken a bit of asking around, sometimes more aggressively than others, but eventually Jasper, now in attendance, had been uncovered. Hours ago I watched the surprise cross his face, when he stepped out into his kitchen, surprised to find the Amarr guards, gone.

His face had gone from surprise to fear fairly quickly when I stepped towards him, probably some lingering childhood fears about a Bhaalgorn. I could almost detect a moment of relief when he saw my face in the deep hood and not that of a demon. His relief was short lived, I suppose, but it had been there all the same.

Now it was all winding down. I had some information I hadn't really asked for that had made this little trip more profitable than I expected. I'd anonymously tip the footage to some news outlets, maybe the local police. I hadn't looked at the feed since I started. Nor would I as I left. My face would not show, a small holographic inlay would present a black hole on the footage where my face would have been.

I barely heard him speak, his raspy voice still somehow triumphant, but it was as if the words he said locked my body in place while kicking my mind kicked into overdrive.

"Layette Friary."

It was a name, one I had been avoiding since an incident near a year and a half ago. I was never able to get any information about that name from the assassin who had muttered it with his dying breath. I had changed operational locations because of that name. Changed contacts, not to mention burned still more contacts and operatives in an attempt to kill a man. THAT little fiasco had led to me seeing my sister through a sniper's scope at the same time I saw the man I had until then, been determined to kill, and their child.

I looked up again, but a small, bloody smile was all that greeted me. Jasper, was gone. Rage boiled up inside me, much deeper rage than the loss of a cell, no matter how well placed. I wanted to drive my fist through Jasper's chest, to stomp in impotent fury, assault his body with my knife, or better yet my bare hands, instead I stood there a moment, feeling defeat wash over me, a stark contrast to Jasper, who's skin was hanging off his body like stretched red rags.

A long journey home

Our week had been building up to this.  Cassius strolled in casually to the meeting room, ahead of me, a smallish but once empty bar up on the capsuleer decks of mid station of Reynire.  Now filled over capacity with pilots from the assembled corporations of Rote Kapelle.

Truth was Rote Kapelle had been absent from it's adopted home in TXW for close to two and a half months now, working to strew seeds of the revolution from Pure Blind to Providence.  Taking our lumps and giving them against the monolithic NC and New Providence in one place or another.  During these months spirits and morale had been up and down in quick succession but nothing compared to the current feeling in the room.

It wasn't tension but anticipation, for blood, for home, for a fight.  We were all quiet as our leaders and assembled FC's broke the news of our plan to the rank and file, in person this time, ensuring no confusion.  I moved to the back of the room, looking back towards our brief.

"As we stand here, your Remote Repair BS are being delivered to your hangars, from station storage and prepped for combat.  Our token force in TXW will attempt to convince the new locals," smiling a bit at the comment, "into combat.  The rest of the fleet, meaning you, will stand by in Vestouve, with light cap support for backup."  There were some involuntary nods around the room, one of those reflexes you gain from years of briefings.  I was one of the nodders.  I scanned the room quickly with slight embarrassment.  Of course there had been no need to nod, this was hardly the first time we or rather I had heard this plan, but it would be the last.  None had noticed, fortunately enough saving me the casual barbs passed around like candy in these meetings.  When the briefing broke up short seconds after that a light murmur of voices filled the room as the pilots of Rote Kapelle moved towards the doors.

Some had already remotely jacked into their hangars, or comms systems, ordering cargo in or out of their holds, prepping their delivered battleships for combat before arriving at them, joining the fleet, chatting on their communicators.  I stumbled slightly, still getting used to this new clone after my recent clone jump, and my foot careened off the floor from my misstep and then down right on the outside foot of Usagi Tuskino.  I tried to recover some, but my tall frame was already overbalanced, somehow I was able to remain upright although nearly falling into her, I started to apologize quickly.  Looking down to meet her eyes, those shocking blue eyes unnerved me instantly, as every time I saw them, making my already awkward apology stutter from my lips.  She waved dismissively, a small smile sliding over her lips as she moved away, her mind obviously on something else.

Once I stepped from the bar, I grew in confidence with each step closer to my hangar I got.  It was like I could feel the power there.  I set my body more or less on autopilot, moving instinctively, quickly towards my pod and waiting tempest-class Battleship.  The sweet feeling of becoming something greater, bigger looming ahead.  I joined the fleet channel, placing quick orders to move some large cap boosters into the waiting injector, my mind meshing with the comms channel, quiet now, assigning me to the second squad of the first wing of the fleet.

I broke the mental connection and refocused as I entered the room housing my pod, already inside my tempest, only marginally aware of how I got there.  My excitement grew, a smile spreading over my face as I disrobed.  I guess some people said you never got used to submerging in pod fluid, giving up control, that was never true for me.  I had always been a dreamer, meant for something greater, to be something amazing, my voluval mark reinforced the popular view that I was below notice, just another man, ugly man, but inside.  No matter the number of times I had been warned that I was the bloated and stupid rock I had never given up hope, even if their world was the mountain, my hope didn't die.  It was one of the few things that had kept me alive as a slave was this hope, carefully guarding it, clinging to it fearfully like a secret that could be taken away at a moment notice.  It had survived that and still it lived on.

***

Connecting to a pod was like being reborn into that thing I had always wanted to be, something greater.  While Battleships were ponderous and slow the simple feeling of power could overwhelm the untrained senses.  While I could still feel myself in the pod it was a distant and largely unconscious feeling, I simply was the ship.  I twisted the camera drones around my ship, prepping my guns with Barrage L and powering up all systems.  I had barely settled in when the order to undock came from our FC.  I had already cleared for undock, placing me next in line and then suddenly pushed out of the station.

Relying on drilled in precision I set destination for home, my tempest turning towards the first gate with a touch of my will.  The order to warp was not long in coming, and I was once again one of the first into warp, jetting towards the low security gate ahead, TXW a short 6 jumps away.  I kept my ship on course, laughing at myself as if I was some other person looking back at the meeting in the station.  I thought to myself that surely had not happened to me, it was a memory from another life, filing it away I jumped through the gate on command.

Reports were not encouraging as we made our way, only 5-6 of the new inhabitants were nearby, but our friends in the station as well as pilots on scene had seen none of them in space.  Determined not to waste any further time, our commander pushed us ahead, a very unfortunate Vexor meet it's timely end with a small section of our fleet removing it from space, our large ships near invulnerable for a time against the "peacekeeping" gate guns employed in low sec.

The Concord ding to my security was hardly worth noting, even lower than caring about the loss of life and money for our victim.  We waited briefly in Vestouve hoping for a fight in TXW, but none came.  With assured speed we moved back into TXW, orders already circulating for the formation of another, smaller, nimble fleet to assemble in TXW 8-8.  It was set to leave in 1 hour.

***

Leaving the pod was another matter entirely, I ended up feeling very alone.  On the floor of the same room, my consciousness collapsed into the small shell that was my body, my thoughts battering around inside my head, as if it was suddenly too small for me.  I dry retched, gripping at the floor, tears filling my eyes as I did.  I struggled to my feet, grabbing a simple towel to wipe the goo from my eyes, already headed to my next ship.  I didn't notice if people saw me, naked, awash in the glow of my hangar, approaching the sleek monstrosity of my Scimitar.  Like the Tempest the Scimitar was powerful in it's own way, able to project shields across the vastness of space, all while moving too fast to follow.  In the shadow of the vast cruiser I left the towel, repeating the process of connecting to the cruiser, as always, opting to spend my time inside the hull of the powerful ship, viewing it as a whole rather than as a simple man.

***

The hour passed quickly, maybe even too quickly as I scanned the fitting of my ship, making last minute changes and bantering in the new fleet for parts, all the while passing sarcastic we have returned comments into the local FTL channel.  I was slower on the undock this time, forcing my cruiser through the mass of ships at the undock point and then getting it pointed out toward the gate took a bit longer than needed but being back out in space, powerful once again was it's own reward.

The cruiser leaped into warp, feeling even faster and reckless as my blood rose to a near audible hum in the pod of my ship.  Our first challenge was to find a fleet willing to face us.  After several attempts and even more half fights and quick kills, we arrived in MHC, seemingly finding a interested party.  In fact the fleet we were able to find was made up of only CPU/Tabula Rasa, scared to fight against the trappings of their imperialistic and wanton needs, they left the field quickly, leaving their mate to die under our hammer.  Behind us they slunk back to the gate, catching a straggler before we could return to save him.

A few jumps later a hostile force that best matched our own was detected.  We were forced to redeploy hastily, blocking their route.  Our scout reported their fleet launching drones and throwing up a bubble, it was time to fight.  I stretched my will across the fleet, mentally marking members of the fleet to follow through the fight, hoping to catch those in need of repairs before their ships buckled.  We jumped, space buckling at the number of ships moving across space.  We found them in place on the other side, the battle was already on.

Usagi and her blue eyes was one of the first to go down in the fight, her Rook removed from the field before I had finished locking her for repairs, she had been foolish to reveal herself so soon into the fight.  From there things seemed to stabilize.  We were still taking a fair amount of damage, Scimitars burning for range while the rest of our light and speedy fleet attempted to lay down fire on the requested ships.  They were dying, but not fast enough.

FALLGUY was one of the next to go down, his Vagabond crumpling under reps, at the same time my lock failed after another lucky jam from EC-300 drones swarmed around me like insects.  I burned hard, trying to maintain range and escape from under the net of EC drones in vain, they would stay on me for much of the fight, until their owner was removed.  We might have lost a Vagabond but they were dying as well, 0458 proved to be a bloody minute, 4 of their ships lost for just two of ours.  My reps were working overtime to keep BlackFalcon01 alive but another lucky jam and distance allowed him to fall to the guns of our opposition.  But he was the last.  Their heavy ships tanked our fire best they could and disengaged the other side of the gate.  The battle was bloody, but ultimately we were victorious, holding the field. 

Returning to TXW with half our fleet seemed oddly like a loss.  We had come to expect to lose few ships in a battle, but even so we once again proving ourselves strong and our fight was motivation enough to be stronger.  The bloody fight fresh on our minds moved the CPU gang once again out of our way, despite their now similar numbers.  The rest of the flight home was more or less uneventful, never once stressing our gang to the point our fight had.

Our FC moved the fleet into dock, dismissing us as we entered station.  I sat there for a bit in my Scimitar, spinning camera around the outside of the ship for moments before disconnecting.

***

Sometimes it's worse than others, and you find yourself on the floor minutes later, coughing, unable to form thoughts, wishing vaguely for just one more moment in the pod.  At least that's how I felt right then, weak, out of sorts, unable to think clearly.  Luckily, my body was moving, working off years of completing the same task, I gripped a new towel and pulled it slowly over my body, cleaning it as I left the ship, the previous towel either removed by some unseen employee hired in one of my smarter moments or swept out into space like so much junk.

I walked into the quiet dressing room in TXW, my mind more or less settled now.  I pushed to get myself through the quick routine of a shower, getting dressed and doing short work on my hair.  I stepped out of my section of the Hangar Bays, long strides taking me the shortest route to the local capsuleer pub we all tended to favor after well just about any fight.  Even pilots who had lost ships had made it there before me, but one knowing look was all it took for almost everyone to understand.  I guess not everyone has such a hard time leaving their pod as I do, but at least they understand it.

I was happy to have missed the "AAR" as our FC's called them where pilots mistakes were pointed out and shamed.  I felt I must have made some, possibly costing people their lives, or ships.  Each loss weighed heavily on my mind as I looked up at the simple cork board in the bar that had hard copies of kills and losses listed.  Right now it was more kills than losses but I felt as if it could change at any moment.  Often times it would be updated before the pilots even returned home from a fight.  Nobody was quite sure who did it or why, but there were plenty of comments tacked to the side of kills before they dropped off the bottom of the board.

A pair of unsolicited shots slid down the bar towards me, I looked up to see smiles all around, I took the first shot quickly, the faint buzzing of responsibility, fatigue and loss slowly wiped from my mind as the smile spread to my lips after a few minutes.  I could barely keep up with some in the bar, but I managed to catch up at the very least... I think.

Rise of a Rebel Part 2

 The family is a haven in a heartless world.  -Christopher Lasch


Part 2

Amongst crush of humanity a single figure lay still.  Sprawled on the deck, the slack of his chains taken up by those around him.

The figure lay unheeded, between groups, yet still linked to one.  Passed for dead by the people around him.  Fresh injuries clouded his face, the bridge of his nose crushed in, his torn shirt showing some of his ribs a deep black color indicating some internal bleeding, bruising spreading over his chest.

Briefly his eyes fluttered open for just one second before snapping closed again, contorted in pain.  Weakly, the figure attempted to move, arms and legs pinned to the side by the chains binding him to those around him.  His movements, so weak, failed to disturb those around him.

A few moments later he opened his eyes again, forced to confront the press of people, slaves, all around him.  Bewildered he tried moving his arms again, pulling hard enough on his uninjured side to attract the attention of a old man squatting close to him.  A slight shift of those around him granted the young man enough room to move.

Over the soft drone of conversations around them the old man spoke.  "We thought you dead boy."  Anger glinted in the eyes of the injured man.  "We had to carry you down here," the man gestured to the other men around him, a Brutor and two tall Siebestor.  "Chained and all.  What is your name?"  He offered his hand to help him into the group. Even with his age the elderly Brutor was able to help pull the injured Siebestor to an awkward squat.

Squatting now, he was still defiant despite his obvious pain, "I'm no boy, grandfather!  My name's Logan."  Logan coughed, after the outburst, blackened blood speckling his lips.  The older Brutor shook his head slowly, dropping Logan's hand with sudden anger.

"We are all boys in the eyes of god!"  Logan drew back, bearing his teeth, the other Brutor groaned, sliding his imposing arm between the two.  The older Brutor slid back a bit, grumbling to himself, inaudible over the sounds of the cargo bay.

The voice of the younger Brutor was low and deep, on the edge of being inaudible over the surrounding noise.  "Logan, now you've done it, gotten old Bulkar talking about religion again.  His family spent too much time with the Amarr before his current situation if you take my meaning."  The Brutor shot Logan a warning glance, shaking his head to forget the perceived insult.  "My name is Rozor, stay relaxed, the guards said you suffered greatly while trying to attack a pilot, they gave you some repair, stopped some bleeding, but be still," he pointed to the two Siebestor males to Logan's right.  "These are Uldrik and Klolf.  We are your new family so you had best get used to us.  Quickly."  Logan attempted to interrupt, pain flaring in his side.  Rozor continued on without notice.  "Before you ask, no we do not know where we are headed, where we are, or any of that.  Bulkar and I were born slaves, I have been sold more than once, Uldrik and Klolf don't talk much, but from what I can make out, rather, from what little they have said.  They were only captured a few months ago.  By the looks of you, your capture was more," Rozor gave a long pause, as if searching for the best way to put it.  "More recent."

Logan's body tensed radiating anger, and then pain.  Looking around as if to strike out at his captors.  Logan, for the first time, noticed the hundreds, if not thousands of others pressed around them.  Not all in sight were of Minmatar descent, but each cluster of slaves seemed to have only one nation represented.  Logan turned back to his new family, briefly sobered by the sight.  His voice on the edge of breaking, recounting his story.  "I was working late, fixing some drainage issues, when I returned to our town, there were men all around..."  Logan tensed again, eyes wild, surging to his feet, looking around him.  "Where is my family?"  He screamed, looking for a familiar face in the crowd.  He found none.  The weight of the realization and pain was too much.  He stood for a brief second longer, his eyes rolling up into his head, falling limply into the arms of his new brothers.

Rise of a Rebel Part 1

"The depth of darkness to which you can descend and still live is an exact measure of the height to which you can aspire to reach."- Laurens Van du Post

Part 1

The stars against the sky let me make out man-sized shapes against the darkness of the ground.  Amongst them struggled other shapes, invaders had come to my home!

My teeth bared, why would they come here?  Why now?  We had been free for so long.  I was screaming internally, pushing my body's reaction, hoping there was still time.

I ran forward, cool air blasted over my clammy skin, hurling me towards the men.  NO, they were not men, they were scum, SLAVERS!  Anger warped my mind, clouded my vision.  I reached down, wrapping my hand around the hilt of my cold knife, freeing it as I moved.  The deadly weight of it pressing into my palm.

There was a sudden quiet of purpose in my mind , a far cry from the choas that raged in it just moments before.  My body became distant, as if acting without my input. . .

Only a few meters away now, my body tensed.  I calculated the remaning distance between us indifferently, my anger still in control.  My growl reached my ears, it sounded strange, disconnected from me and inhuman.  The man turned towards the sound, but he was slow, too slow!  The glee filled me as I lept into the air, bearing down on him.  I thought his fate sealed.

Starlight bounced off his glasses, or goggles?  I was comitted in the air, anyone else would have realized my folly.  He was free to move.  With trained, practiced speed, his body propelled his arm up and out, his forarm striking at my wrist.  The pain of his blow shot up and down my arm, my hand spasming around the the knife.  Stars glinted off the deadly curve of the knife as it spun uselessly away over his shoulder.  His arm slid as it struck, hand twisting, strong fingers sliding down my arm, allowing him to circle slightly, using my forward momentum to twist me in the air.

The ground raced under my eyes as he flipped me.  I landed hard on my shoulders and back, legs snapping over my head for a brief second.  The force of my body landed on my shoulders forced the air from my lungs, blackness closing in on my vision.  The weight of my body briefly threatening to crush my neck, only to be suddenly released as my back and legs followed my fall, landing me painfully flat on the ground.  How had he moved so quickly, so effortlessly.  Fear consumed me, tears welling in my eyes.

I was caught exposed, attempting to protect myself.  I twisted on the ground, arms pulling up to cover my face in defense, while trying to catch another sight of the man. My ears warned me first, his footsteps echoing in my ears, spelling my fate.  I could tell he was moving quickly around to my unprotected sides.  I tucked, trying to curl into a ball on the ground to protect my ribs, but I was too slow again.  The force of his kick drove the remaining air from my lungs as if popping a baloon.  I heard something crunch with the impact and pain flooded my body.

I half rolled and was half tossed to my hands and knee's.  I attempted to gain my feet once again, struggling with my balance, the tang of blood filling my mouth.  My lungs screamed for air, pulling it in over the blood welling from the back of my throat, the pain of my ribs stealing each gasp.  The wait was mercifully short.  I was trying to see the next attack, unprepared I turned my head...  The tip of his shoe filled my vision...