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))

Dispirited Evening

I closed the comm channel, and a quiet sigh escaped my list. The kind of sigh you make when you know something is really bothering you but you can't quite place your finger on what.

My quarters in 98Q were sparse and felt barely lived in, I had spent most of my time in my pod or in quarters of a ship in my hangar. Somehow I always ended up back in here when I joined holo channels like the summit.

I refilled my glass with more whiskey, the clear bottle, label-less belying it's smugglers nature. Good drink was so hard to find in a 'hostile' station. While I had grown so used to my connections in TXW, the people here had grown used to the demands of IRED. Those things had been, well, disrupted would be one word, hectic another, since 'we' had dropped by.

It surprised me how much was different between my quarters here and the quarters I had in TXW. Here felt like just another berth, but somehow TXW felt like home.... or at least a kind of home. I sipped my whiskey, my free hand pushing my chair away from the small comms console and walking in front of the enormous holoscreen. I turned to face the broadcast, it was some sort of baseliner news, murders, wars, deaths were the headlines, in two words, background noise.

Another Sansha invasion here, another abduction there, various capsuleer wars, the ever simmering Militia wars. Numbers trickled over the screen, overlays on overlays trying to unweave the tapestry of capsuleer relations to the baseliner level. I nearly snorted... reflecting more on 'home.'

Recently TXW had been feeling a lot less like my home. It had started when Usagi took her hound and more importantly, her cute ass off to see 'family' deep in Gurista controlled Venal. Initially we had talked often, but as usual, things slowed down. I hadn't heard from her in months, and then I went looking for trouble.

I found some welcome trouble in the arms of another capsuleer, and that had helped, for a while. Up until she had also disappeared, maybe moved on was a better term... And then I had moved onto real trouble. Finding another link to my past I had through avoided, or at the very least, buried. I frowned, mentally muting the holoscreen.

My eyes refocused, and I found the glass of whiskey waiting at my lips, I took a sip... the alcohol sliding down my throat. At least my body knew what to do. Home is where the drink is. I walked back over to the table, grabbit the still half full bottle of whiskey before moving back towards my hangar.

Mentally I scrolled through my local ship hangar, flipping through their pods and beds, wondering where I would end up tonight.

Rise of Rebel, Part 4, Subjugation

If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong.
- Abraham Lincoln

It had been impossible to adjust, being looked at like meat, like a dumb, obedient dog. Crammed in the tight quarters with the rest of the chained circles of slaves. Weeks and then months ground by, each second worse than the last. To some extent I felt bad for my behavior then, but I never knew what it would lead to. I resisted the guards, preventing our purchase because of my struggles. Growled at the interested buyers, scared them away. Slaves who came in after us were bought before us, Ammarian Holders and other "decent" slavers (according to Bulkar at least) left us alone like we carried a plague. Most didn't have to come close when inspecting the slave groups to know I was the problem, the guards let them know, and started showing us off to the worst of an already bad lot.

Rozor was the first to snap. I let his fists rain on me, wishing, hoping he would hit something vital that the guards missed, and put me out of this life. Without a family, without my family, I was nothing. Worth nothing, beaten, shunned, I sat outside the circle, but still chained to it. I slipped further and further into a depression unlike any I had faced. There would not be such an easy escape from this life.

Rozors beating did what the guard hadn't. Buyers kept coming through, and at some point I was too weak, too tired to make a stand anymore, to care anymore. We were purchased by some Angel Cartel toughs, the fact that we were simple labor seemed to meet their requirements, that we were all so beaten down, I'm sure that didn't hurt. By then I had lost weight and any muscle I had. They shocked, beat and collared us with electric collars for control on the journey through the smuggler gates of eve. The slight lurch in my stomach at each jump was the only thing that let me count the jumps, 33, to our destination. If that was in a straight line, or just a route to avoid customs....

The ship we were in rumbled into a rough dock and we were shuffled off the ship like so much cattle. Pushed and prodded still, we made our way to the small casino in the middle of the outpost. As the toughs took their payments for delivery to the casino's tables, we were taken by a new set of grim and humorless overlords, assigned menial jobs as if we were not there, in area's we had no idea how to get to. Then taken and beaten until we "learned some respect for our new masters." 


There was no escape, the outpost was isolated in dead space, that forbidden zone between civilization and the dark of space that somehow managed to be neither. It around then that with a final sickening hurt I knewI had been broken, and I worked as if my life depended on it, the deep dark depression now turning into something darker, something that made me want to excel at what they asked me to do, as if that would convince them to save me. I hated myself for it, but couldn't help it, I lived, I rejoined my brother slaves as another to their ranks. It was around then that a new leader of the facility, Thomas, showed up. He must have been the son, or cousin, of someone powerful in the Cartel. Power radiated off him like so much heat and the deference the guards gave him stunk of connections.

He took joy in "training the slaves personally." There was nothing any of us could do, right or wrong, to be spared. During the day we worked like janitors, cleaning up the aftermaths of parties, unloading stores from ships and slaughters when fights broke out. 


Uldrik had been the first to get a taste of the pain doled out by Thomas like candy. Our group was one of few on the casino, all broken men, scared of the fist, of the glance of the guards, or the bite of their discipline. It wasn't enough control for Thomas, he desired more. His men came to the small quarters the five of us shared, pressing the rag that passed as our door to the side for Thomas. He stepped in and looked us over, thumbing a single six sided die between his palm and thumb. The game, as it were, was explained to us, slowly, deliberately. He would roll a single six sided die. If he rolled a six he said, "Then I'll move on, all nice-like." At first you start out hoping for a six. This time I was a five, he rolled a two.

Uldrik was pulled from the room, wet smacks and thuds the only sounds we could hear. I cried, wishing it was me instead, that his pain was my fault, if only I had gotten us sold sooner...

Uldrik was deposited back in the room, bleeding from the eyes and ears, we did our best to cover for him, but he was never quite the same. He lost hearing in his right ear, his right eye kept a deep red hue. It was then that we started talking of escape, of some kind of life where Thomas, where these Angel thugs wouldn't own us anymore. Dreams of lost freedom. Foolish dreams.

Desperate hopes for men trapped deep inside dead space, in some system they didn't even know the name of. Some claim planning escape is almost as important as completing it, but planning for escape, for freedom, is false hope if there is no real chance of it. Bulkar had been the hardest to convince of the need to plan, but then of course we weren't with his precious god-fearing Amarr, who would "never let this kind of treatment of slaves stand." We were with the heartless Angles, we thanked their lack of toxins to control us. Physically, psychologically, it didn't matter.

Thomas had been initially sated by the damage he caused on the slaves. He still trained the guards how to "handle" us better. Their beatings were brutal, more so than before, but at least Thomas left us alone.

We didn't expect it to last; it didn't last. 

He came back, with the same die, only changing our numbers, he had a knack of finding the weakest of us each time. Bulkar came back with ragged, lazy knife cuts across his chest, mumbling incoherently to himself, it took weeks before he made sense or even spoke to the rest of us again. Rozor was next, his pinky fingers and small toes broken and splinted and then re-broken. The pain was to remind him of the grace that Thomas left him alive each day. It was weeks before he was allowed to get the nanobot medical injections to help heal his toes, his pinkies still turned at crooked angles to the rest of his hand. Rozor remained defeated, but still somehow defiant through all of it, drawing from some central core strength I wish I had. Somewhere along the line I stopped wishing for a six, and just wished for anything but my number.

My turn was next. Thomas strode in, and told me I was number four. Blind, callous hope spread through my body, four had never showed up on the die before, I was hoping to be spared. Then die stubbornly rolled to a stop on four, laying between us, slaves and master. Thomas looked unsurprised and his guards took me into the hall. I should have resisted, should have fought, but I walked meekly along with them.


He stood there, staring at me for a long time, and did nothing. I, in turn, stared at the ground, feeling his eyes on my head. His guards pushed me to the ground and Thomas stood over me, as if gloating, looking down at me as I knelt. I felt something deep inside of me stir, but I wasn't sure what, it was deeper than the fear, the depression, even hate, the sensation seemed somehow familiar, I knew it, but couldn't remember the name of the feeling. It rose as the moments crept by, I suddenly knew that it was hope, hope that this was all he needed from me, that maybe the others had been defiant, deserving in their beatings, that I was safe. I clung to it as the last emotion I had. 

Then blows came. Only after the hope was pounding in my chest. His sharp, hard kicks and knee's to my chest, compressed the air out of me explosively, and he never stopped for a instant, letting me feel each blow and creak as my chest took each blow. I kept my eyes closed, unable to take a breath, taking kick after kick, each one twisting that hope inside of me, driving it into my heart more effectively than any toxin could, cutting me open far more effectively than any knife. I started hoping that each blow would be the last, that I would live and serve just to avoid one more kick, one more knee...

When he was done, when we were done, I would have thanked him for stopping, for each breath, if I could have spoken. I had tears running down my cheeks, I remembering wanting to thank him for stopping, as if he couldn't stop before then, as if he did me a favor for beating the hope out of me at all. I spat out mouthfuls of blood from the gouges my teeth had taken out of my cheeks, but the tears were of happiness, I had deserved it, he was right to punish me. He had taken that brief hope and turned it into a twisted kind of fear, obedience. I'm not sure what my injuries were, I coughed up blood for weeks, my chest ached for months more.

Thomas never returned for Kolf, he didn't need to. Broken in spirt now, our quaint little escape plans were just the feeble mess that hoped for a empty container and deep dark space.

The exact spot we found ourselves now.