Flashback
By The Shadower
Prologue
Disclaimer: I don't own Max, Logan, or D.A. I don't own any of these characters.
Archiving: Still not sure what it is but I probably won't mind.
Feedback: Please, it would be appreciated.
Rating: PG-13 for later chapters. (Violence, profanity), but this prologue only G.
Summary: A Manticore assassination ties in to the present forcing Max to face her Manticore past once more and Logan to come to terms with the death of his family. Set in and around Pollo Loco.
Spoilers: Pollo Loco. Maybe a little AU, certainly departs from cannon after Pollo Loco, also maybe speculative about Logan's father.
Dedication: To F. Paul Wilson's character Repairman Jack, for an inspiration that will last a lifetime. And to Orson Scott card, who gave me the Idea for the pure dialog parts.
A/N: No tie to my earlier story, but maybe good too. Don't worry, I'm not forgetting about Trouble In My Mind, I just wanted to try this idea. Also, the prologue to this story is rated G. The PG-13 is for later chapters.
2008
"I thought you should know. There's a problem."
"That's obvious. I wouldn't be here if there wasn't."
"Don't be petulant Deck, it doesn't become you. Did you see the news last night?"
"No, I was working. What about it?"
"Take a look at it now."
"What the hell-"
"It's this reporter, Deck. Somehow he found out about the Iraqi massacres and he's broadcasting it."
"He found out about that?"
"Yes, he did, and now the world knows about it."
"But if he was able to find out the truth about Iraq-"
"Who knows what other dangerous information he might have stumble onto in the course of his investigation? He needs to be neutralized. Immediately."
"I'm beginning to see why you asked me here. But the X-4's are currently undergoing correctional reprogramming due to some technical difficulties."
"And you don't have another assassin? We've been paying for Manticore for decades now and you have nothing to show for it?"
"Not nothing. We have a great deal of research and discovery and there's every reason to believe the X-5's will prove useful when operational."
"We don't have time to wait on this, Deck. If you have one of your kids you think could do the job, put it on this immediately."
"I might have one. Very smart, scores better than the others on intelligence tests, amazing agility, speed, strength..."
"Very good. What's the catch?"
"It's an X-5."
"I thought you said they weren't operational."
"They're eight now. Just kids, and untrained, at least for the kind of work we're looking at. I wouldn't put most of them on this, but the one I'm thinking of is exceptional. Tests show-"
"I don't care about what tests show, Deck. Do you believe this X-5 is ready to take on a mission?"
"Ideally we would wait another four years or so, but it should be workable now."
"Very good. Start training your charge for the field."
2019
Logan Cale bolted upright in his bed, screaming. It had been The Dream again. As before, he remembered only a few fragments from it. Rain pouring down. A car thrown into harsh relief by lightening. His fathers voice, saying "Hurry up Log, or we'll be late!" Shadowed figures getting into the car. A flash of light. His chest and lungs and everything around him vibrating. A noise so loud he'd thought his eardrums would burst.
He knew what the dream was. The psychologists had told him he was repressing the memory of his family's death. He had been there, standing about ten yards from the car they had died in, and he had seen all of it. The trauma had been too great for him and he had forced it back in his mind, making himself forget. Now, eleven years later, he still had no memory of that fateful night aside from the dreams still plaguing him.
He took a framed photograph from his bedside table. His father was there, smiling, with the rest of them. It had been taken weeks before their death. Logan felt the beginning of tears coming to his eyes and brushed them away angrily. He would not cry again. He had cried enough eleven years ago.
His family had been blown up with a car bomb, almost certainly because of his father's exposé articles on the government. There were no leads, the case was a dead end, and quickly marked cold by Seattle's finest. Eyes Only had found nothing on it, and he had long since given up trying to force his memory. The case would never be solved. He was reminded of the words of a famous kidnapper just before execution. He whispered them to himself in the darkness of his apartment. "They say when I die, the case will die. They say it will be like a book I close. But the book... ...it will never close." Logan got out of bed and started to dress, resigned that there would be no more sleep that night.
A/N: This is the prologue to a story idea I had. Chapter One should be up soon, how soon depending on if I get involved with another writing project. Feedback is appreciated.
By The Shadower
Prologue
Disclaimer: I don't own Max, Logan, or D.A. I don't own any of these characters.
Archiving: Still not sure what it is but I probably won't mind.
Feedback: Please, it would be appreciated.
Rating: PG-13 for later chapters. (Violence, profanity), but this prologue only G.
Summary: A Manticore assassination ties in to the present forcing Max to face her Manticore past once more and Logan to come to terms with the death of his family. Set in and around Pollo Loco.
Spoilers: Pollo Loco. Maybe a little AU, certainly departs from cannon after Pollo Loco, also maybe speculative about Logan's father.
Dedication: To F. Paul Wilson's character Repairman Jack, for an inspiration that will last a lifetime. And to Orson Scott card, who gave me the Idea for the pure dialog parts.
A/N: No tie to my earlier story, but maybe good too. Don't worry, I'm not forgetting about Trouble In My Mind, I just wanted to try this idea. Also, the prologue to this story is rated G. The PG-13 is for later chapters.
2008
"I thought you should know. There's a problem."
"That's obvious. I wouldn't be here if there wasn't."
"Don't be petulant Deck, it doesn't become you. Did you see the news last night?"
"No, I was working. What about it?"
"Take a look at it now."
"What the hell-"
"It's this reporter, Deck. Somehow he found out about the Iraqi massacres and he's broadcasting it."
"He found out about that?"
"Yes, he did, and now the world knows about it."
"But if he was able to find out the truth about Iraq-"
"Who knows what other dangerous information he might have stumble onto in the course of his investigation? He needs to be neutralized. Immediately."
"I'm beginning to see why you asked me here. But the X-4's are currently undergoing correctional reprogramming due to some technical difficulties."
"And you don't have another assassin? We've been paying for Manticore for decades now and you have nothing to show for it?"
"Not nothing. We have a great deal of research and discovery and there's every reason to believe the X-5's will prove useful when operational."
"We don't have time to wait on this, Deck. If you have one of your kids you think could do the job, put it on this immediately."
"I might have one. Very smart, scores better than the others on intelligence tests, amazing agility, speed, strength..."
"Very good. What's the catch?"
"It's an X-5."
"I thought you said they weren't operational."
"They're eight now. Just kids, and untrained, at least for the kind of work we're looking at. I wouldn't put most of them on this, but the one I'm thinking of is exceptional. Tests show-"
"I don't care about what tests show, Deck. Do you believe this X-5 is ready to take on a mission?"
"Ideally we would wait another four years or so, but it should be workable now."
"Very good. Start training your charge for the field."
2019
Logan Cale bolted upright in his bed, screaming. It had been The Dream again. As before, he remembered only a few fragments from it. Rain pouring down. A car thrown into harsh relief by lightening. His fathers voice, saying "Hurry up Log, or we'll be late!" Shadowed figures getting into the car. A flash of light. His chest and lungs and everything around him vibrating. A noise so loud he'd thought his eardrums would burst.
He knew what the dream was. The psychologists had told him he was repressing the memory of his family's death. He had been there, standing about ten yards from the car they had died in, and he had seen all of it. The trauma had been too great for him and he had forced it back in his mind, making himself forget. Now, eleven years later, he still had no memory of that fateful night aside from the dreams still plaguing him.
He took a framed photograph from his bedside table. His father was there, smiling, with the rest of them. It had been taken weeks before their death. Logan felt the beginning of tears coming to his eyes and brushed them away angrily. He would not cry again. He had cried enough eleven years ago.
His family had been blown up with a car bomb, almost certainly because of his father's exposé articles on the government. There were no leads, the case was a dead end, and quickly marked cold by Seattle's finest. Eyes Only had found nothing on it, and he had long since given up trying to force his memory. The case would never be solved. He was reminded of the words of a famous kidnapper just before execution. He whispered them to himself in the darkness of his apartment. "They say when I die, the case will die. They say it will be like a book I close. But the book... ...it will never close." Logan got out of bed and started to dress, resigned that there would be no more sleep that night.
A/N: This is the prologue to a story idea I had. Chapter One should be up soon, how soon depending on if I get involved with another writing project. Feedback is appreciated.