A/N: Hey Ya'll I'm back on my bullshit. After long delay enjoy.


"Chapter 22: Coming Back to Bite"


Logos felt another breath rattle down in his chest, wetly catching somewhere between his gasping mouth and faltering ribs. His left eye was swollen shut, he couldn't see anything out of it anymore. His cheek laid pressed against cold stone, the cave floor, as he was left alone for one blissful moment. And it was almost a relief on his hot face, but the rest of him was so cold. He was shivering so violently it hurt.

His aching ribs expanded over another breath, this one drawn slowly, before he gave into pained coughing. Logos curled in on himself, the jangling of a chain echoing in his ear as he shifted. One of his wrists, discolored and distended, was hanging a little over his head, attached to the mineral caked wall by a peg. This was to keep him from tampering with the crudely built cell, made hastily with crossing bamboo poles and leather cords. Grime lined his nails, his own dried blood, as he scratched at the floor in an effort to ground himself.

I'm really hurt this time. Logos thought to himself while continuing to assess. I haven't been this hurt in a long time. Not since those days, at least.

Those days had been filled with enough blood, guts, and broken bones to fill a lifetime, several in fact. Not always Logos's, but on the occasion that it had been, it served a good purpose. Pain was an episodic reminder that he was still somehow alive. A sharp quick spark that burned through all the tiresome grey fog that was existing as a thug for some of the most powerful men of Spira. Or men with deep enough pockets anyways.

And here he was, once again reminded that he was still alive. Through the throbbing course of life that spurned him to take another pained breath, he understood one thing. He hadn't given away a damn thing.

They could not break enough of him, could not cut away nor peel back any revealing truths that hid underneath. Logos wondered if he always had this resolve or if a greater cause was clamping his mouth shut. He hated pain and loved to complain nowadays. Sniveling, his Boss called it. This resistance was new to him. Even in the old days, while he never gave his employers away it was from a greater fear of them than whoever had the unlucky fate of momentarily catching him. He was always set free in the end, usually by Ormi's intervention or by the wills of his former Masters. He had too much information for them to be complacent with his torture for long.

Information that still clamored between his ears to this day. Names, associations, faces. But this was not the content that his most recent captors were digging for. This was not what he steeled his teeth against.

Weaknesses, numbers, plans. Anything to get an edge on the young upstarts rising in power throughout Spira. The League was growing, and Yevon was shaking in its pathetic boots. New Yevon did not support the doddering spirit that was lingering within their walls, in fact Nooj was fully endorsed by them now. Logos saw their helplessness and laughed at them. Desperation was bringing them even lower than he already held them in his mind. The hideous beastie that was Yevon, old and corrupted, was finally warping into something he could openly mock to its face.

Granted, it was hard to consistently mock something that was currently splitting you open, but Logos had given it his best. What they could squeeze out of him was inconsequential. Their irritations were palatable, and so after many hours, they finally let him be.

And in good time too, he had barely enough energy to stir his thoughts dully.

Despite everything, he hadn't given away anything to endanger his Boss, or even her precious Meyvn.

What was a couple of broken bones? What was a cut here and there? Nothing compared to the power that held him aloft, untouchable to their devices and tools. The power of love conquers all, his Boss had crooned once. Damn right about that.

He let his eyes close. Hurt as he was, he was satisfied. He had not moved since the coughing spell forced him into motion, falling back into the stiff pose as before. His cheek against cool rock, one eye and part of his nose facing downward. One hand was held slightly suspended above him, the fingertips of it barely scraping the top of his sweating scalp. He sleepily blinked, feeling the way his bent legs were growing numb, and seeing his hand laid flat palm down on the ground beside him. He was static, a carving with the name of suffering. But, in the fashion of a martyr, he finally sought to rest.

Logos's ears prickled at the sudden sounds of voices, drawing closer. Logos did not move, but listened.

"-and in Kilika?"

"How do you think it went? I'm here!"

Logos felt a hard lump stop behind his sternum. His eye not a bulging bruise opened wide in shock and fear. He had heard that sniping voice before.

Four still live. Fix it.

In the sphere it had crackled, a memory, far away. But it flickered down the cavern passageways not like a ghost, but painfully real. Logos lifted his head, senses reeling and clotted blood stickily ripping from his skin as it clung to the floor.

"What about the tight-lipped prisoner I've heard about?" That voice drawled, slipping over the words like oozing sludge. Logos had enough freedom in the crude cell to back his aching body into the corner. However, there was nowhere to retreat beyond that point.

"Won't say nothing, Sir. We don't think he knows anything. Said he doesn't even work for the Mevyn Nooj."

"I doubt it. You're just not working him over well enough. I'll do it."

Logos was aware of his surroundings, but at the same time his mind was propelled backwards. How many times had he worked for the shadowed figure drawing closer? How many disgusting awful things had he down while the other watched? Wanting it recorded?

Why was he here and not rotting away somewhere?

Logos yanked his arm suddenly as the hooded figure hovered a little past the barrier, peering at him trapped inside. A resounding clatter broke the dripping silence as the chain that held one hand followed his frenzied jerking. He suddenly felt very cramped, and exposed, as the man on the other side recognized him in his sorry state.

"Oh, it's you."

"No." Logos said aloud. He was staring through the man, gazing grimly instead at all the implications and danger flashing warnings at him. "No-"

"You know 'im?" The rebel guardsman that had earlier done a number on the gunner spoke to his ringleader with a kind of astonished disbelief. "He kept saying he was a spherehunter that just got caught up-"

"A spherehunter?" The Man interrupted his underling with a derisive laugh. He was ignoring the guardsman and was focusing all His attention on the cornered crouched body. "You gave up being an assassin…to become a spherehunter?"

The ridiculousness of it split his face into a wide grin. He bent in the middle, pressing closer to stare at Logos's beaten face through the haphazard bars. He chuckled, "Oh, how you have fallen."

"I-" Logos felt hot shame rush to his face, but something colder wormed its way up his belly and into his heart and lungs. He bit on it, tasting metallic tang as his teeth gnawed on the words, "I could say the same for you."

The smile dropped from his lips so fast it was like it was hardly even there. Eyes flicked around, taking stock of the limp swollen wrist held too tight by a manacle, the nearly completely undressed state, the grimy blood. But then there was the face of the gunner, snarling and gimlet-eyed. A jeering snort passed through his nose.

"Still got spirit left. Need to do a better job breaking them." The Man grunted at the guardsman before turning his attentions back to Logos with a faux-friendliness, "Where's your buddy?"

Logos pulled his broken lips tight against his loose teeth.

"Not talking? We'll change that." He motioned for the guard to open the door of the cell. While his cohort was preoccupied with that, the Man stood straight and pivoted on his foot with arms tucked against his lower back. He was looking over at the nearby table, where neatly laid out was all Logos had on his person at the time he was captured. A rumpled pack of cigarettes, his lighter, some loose gil. These were seen but quickly dismissed and given no reaction by the man. Logos traced the path the man's gaze took over his possessions, feeling sicker as He stepped slowly and purposefully along the length of the table. The gunner's revolvers received another sound of familiarity as his face had done, before an interested hum shot Logos square in the stomach. Pale hands clawed at the table around the little blue device, snatching it up and turning it over for inspection.

With the H.E.A.R.T. clutched in His hands, He was thoroughly looking it over and learning the mechanics of the device. Logos damned Taji for making it so intuitive. It was too well-designed, so easy to use. It didn't take Him long to nod both confidently and pleased. However, Logos felt dread rattle through his veins as the object was flipped over. Emblazoned in bold contrast to its outlandishly bright colors was the insignia of the Syndicate in pure white. A long-nailed thumb traced the little heart, the same design that graced the Boss's chest, and it made Logos skin crawl. A spreading rage filled him as the man said nothing, just continued to merely trace the embossed symbol.

It felt so terribly wrong. Profane.

That Man shouldn't touch it, shouldn't be allowed, shouldn't dare. The heart punched with two holes was not a part of the same world as that Man. Logos felt the anger buzz in his head, like furious hornets, as the man continued to touch the badge, the sickness was spreading and mixing dangerously with the sudden hatred. He was of the past, buried and dusty. It was the present, too valuable, and the future, still hopeful. It was not his to even see. To know, to understand.

"You don't work for the Meyvn huh?" The teeth flashed his way was ripping into Logos more than he wanted. It was tearing into him like a dog's jaw, finding his soft flesh and shredding, piercing, rending-

The H.E.A.R.T was held up in a gray palm, and it was shaken towards his dampening eyes. The emblem flashed in the scant light, becoming tainted by the touch, by the words that followed. "I know who you work for. Think we should give her a call?"

"No!" Logos felt a gasp roll past his split and bleeding mouth, his chest heave and his wrist held by the cuff protest as he threw himself forward towards the bars. "Don't!"

A thumb draped over the red button, and pressed it.


"Leblanc-" A deep furrow was creasing Nooj's forehead, as he tried, once more, to calm her. "You have done all you can-."

"I have not!" She wailed and tried to again stand up from the bed but was pushed down by both Ruckus, who was needed to lend a hand of all people, and a Youth League nurse. She was still too weak and needed to recover from overextending her magic stores, but she wasn't hearing it. Passionate and desperate, she was struggling to get past them. But a third, Lucil, was holding her back from making a bid for freedom. "I have to do something! I can't just sit here!"

Nooj wished suddenly, feeling his chest tighten, that the sleeping chant would work again. But that brief moment of weakness in Leblanc was gone, and she was raging. He was trying to not get annoyed with her, as he admittedly often did when she was like this, since he could understand her emotions. The zealous determination for action was justified, but it would make everything worse for her. While Leblanc certainly couldn't feel what she was doing to herself, Nooj knew it to be true. She was not in the condition to fly away into one of her states. Something was cracking and before it shattered she needed to compose herself. To calm down. But she refused, in the same way she always refused.

An annoying but somehow catchy jingle was puttering one of Leblanc's pocket contents over the surface of the cot's bedside table. Leblanc finally stopped, holding stock still as her face pointed towards him. Nooj froze. Her eyes brimming with tears widened, and her blank expression turned to realization, and slowly turned towards the blue gadget that her Goons had given her.

Nooj quickly sprung forward, somewhat awkwardly on his bum leg, and swiped the H.E.A.R.T. before she could get to it. Nooj, quickly scanning the buttons, found the one beeping in a red light and pressed it as Leblanc nearly crashed into him whilst dragging the three Leaguers holding her back.


Ormi was huffing, making his way towards the Youth League as fast as his stocky legs could take him. Did he even need to go to the Youth League? He needed to get Logos! But where was he?

Where are you going? Erie had demanded, chasing him as he made a run for it out of the Chateau as soon as he got off the call with the Nooj-guy. He tried his best to hide his swirling emotions, but like always it was projected on his face.

We messed up, Erie. He hadn't meant to say it, flinched at the sudden hurt blossoming over her pale face. We messed up! He could tell she wanted to follow him, wanted to ask questions, and Ormi wanted Logos there more than ever. Wanted the Boss. Wasn't that the whole point? But it had led to this, accidentally, but terrible nonetheless.

He clapped a hand on her shoulder, and found some comfort as a thin hand reached up and touched his wrist.

I'll explain when I's get back. Don't-don' worry.

He was worried, what else could he be? And regret of all kinds filled him, spreading along the length and width of him like spider's webs, entangling in his throbbing blood. He had to stop to sputter for breath. Beads of sweat wound down his face from under the line of his helmet and Ormi took the back of his hand to wipe them away from his watering eyes. We messed up. He hadn't meant to yell that at Erie. She was sensitive about that kind of stuff. Failure at her fault was something that tore through her like arrows. But he had said it and he could apologize later. If he could just fix it that might even be apologies enough.

He wanted to fix things. Wanted to help. Logos and the Boss, they were drifting in and out of something, and Ormi just wanted to make things better. The goons looked to him, made him feel important and capable. Were they wrong?

He almost had his breath back, but he realized too late that his legs were aching from the marathon he just bounced his way across. Doubt was weighing on him too, but he could spare no time to either pains or uncertainty.

He had to make things better.

He dragged his foot forward through the dirt and chomped on stinging air. His heart was thumping heavy in his chest, and he could feel it pulse in his legs. Then suddenly his hip vibrated, nearly shooting him straight through the air as he jumped away from the abrupt sound and motions coming from the pouch hidden at his hip.


Erie cried, she couldn't help it. Logos was right, she was doing that too much as of late. Everyone was so kind to her, and patient, but it really was getting to be too much. The girls flocked to her, were saying reassuring things and muttering questions about what happened. Not that anything really happened. Not that Erie knew of yet anyways.

"I'll explain when I's get back."

She swiped at her green eyes and sighed, low and dreary. She'd trust Ormi. She had so far, and it was honestly one of the most easy and rewarding things that she had ever done. She had so much to be grateful for this place and the people in it, she just had to trust it. As much as that sometimes hurt.

"Was that our acting leader?" Daji appeared from one of the back hallways, joining her in the living room where she had inconveniently stood near the door leading down into the basement. He was holding more H.E.A.R.T.'s in his hand, and his brother appeared with him carrying the rest. They had noticed Ormi's dash around the mansion last, being preoccupied with making new toys in the absence of their leaders and in simple boredom waiting. But, they couldn't help but notice the warrior bounding around. He wasn't exactly subtle, least of all when he was panicking.

"Yeah." She answered, feeling a swell of emotion rush back. We messed up! That's what he had said to her before barreling out into Spira. He messed up, she messed up. Sweet Aeons, it was the same story over and over again, wasn't it?

"It'll be fine." Rouk, uncharacteristically, was being the most kind. His usual grouchiness softening as the tension grew in the room. "He'll get back and tell us why he was making such a fuss."

"Yeah!" Nago nodded, mirroring the reassurance. "It'll be fine!"

Then they all had to plug their ears as a high pitched whine blared throughout the living room. All the H.E.A.R.T's were going off at once, rising to a squealing crescendo as the All-Call signal was reverberating from the speakers. Mara actually screamed as the sound rose to a hellish cacophony.

"Turn it off!" Erie yelled, her fingers clamped over her ringing pierced ears. One of the twins hollered at her, telling her something about the way they worked, but she couldn't really hear them.

"Only one of the Boss's can call all of us!" Daji shouted over the ringing din, "It's gotta be one of them!"

This moved most of them, with the least sensitive ears perhaps, into shuffling for the devices. A lot of dismiss buttons was hit, in an effort to quiet the rising chorus, but Taji in his excitement hit his answer button.


Leblanc was actually furious with Nooj, not just for his resistance, but because of his volunteering to be an obstacle in her way. She wanted support from him, not his opposition. And that anger reddened her face as he took the H.E.A.R.T and answered it before she could. She grabbed a handful of his pink sleeve and snapped her fist back so hard that it nearly pulled him sideways off his feet. However, with use of his cane, he stayed upright. He turned his head and flashed her a look she could only meet with a matching one.

"Say hello." The unfamiliar voice grabbed their attention before something could be determined about that moment. The screen for the H.E.A.R.T was on, unusual, since it hardly worked. Static was flashing over the view, making it very hard to see what exactly all that blue mush was supposed to be. Like an old sphere.

Ormi, standing faraway and sweating under the hot sun, felt his limbs and fingers grow cold. He...knew that voice. He didn't know what it meant, but he couldn't stop his face from contorting as the voice, dripping with venom, continued to speak without showing his face.

He always liked to hide his face. Behind that stupid hood and behind cameras.

"I said say hello." This order was forceful and the Goons perked up in simultaneous confusion. Who was this guy? And how'd he get one of the Boss's devices!? But as defensive natures overtook them, so too did the quality of that command. Amused but vicious. They were held stock still as that voice slithered from the mic of the H.E.A.R.T. in Taji's hand.

"Stop it." The nasally sound was unmistakable.

"Logos?" This name was shouted from mouths stretched over the southern half of Spira, and Logos heard it bleated from the device in the cave. He choked, shame filling him again. He could hear them, understood that they were there with him even if he wanted very much to sink into the floor and into the core of Spira, The Farplane, deep underground, alone.

The man figured out how to point it correctly, and the H.E.A.R.T. was directed towards Logos fragmented face. He stared as hatefully as he could. He mustn't appear weak, not now.

"Fayth!"

"What's happening? What are you doing to Logos?"

"How dare you!"

The Goons were clamoring all to be heard all at once, their blood up. Logos knew their voices, could almost see their faces and their familiar expressions. There was a clogging in his throat, and he wanted to yell at them to shut up. He heard a few whines and sudden restrained sobs from the girls, reactive shock from the look of him no doubt. He could hardly take the embarrassment.

"Who are you?" That would be the Meyvn Nooj's voice. Oh goodie.

"That doesn't matter," The man said, but sounded interested nonetheless. "But you're the Meyvn. I know that voice from anywhere now. Heard it enough times with you and your little friends' peace talk broadcasts. You know this man?"

"What do you want?" Not one to mess around, Nooj's voice cut through the static, keeping the rest silent as they had their conversation. There were powers in balance here, and they needed to see how this played out.

The man's smile broadened, but only Logos saw this as the camera was still pointed at him. The gunner's nose was wrinkled dramatically around the bridge, his brows pressing towards each other hard and his bleeding lips curling around his flashing teeth like a fiend.

"I want your head." Came the delighted answer.

Nooj narrowed his eyes behind his silver rimmed glasses. Beside him, Leblanc was strangely quiet, her hand having risen to her mouth to cover it when she saw Logos.

"Many have tried," Nooj said indifferently. "All failed...unfortunately."

How very much like the Deathseeker to add that last bit.

"Oh I know." The Man's voice was low, and horribly slick as oil. "Once upon a Crimson Squad Exercise, we almost had it."

He stepped into the cell, the H.E.A.R.T. still trained on the gunner, who shuffled backwards swiftly before he met the wall his hand was chained too. The foot of the recorder crashed down into his shoulder wound, and the scream wrenched from his mouth brought him more shame than pain. The dirty heel ground down, forcing another to burst from him, and Logos took his free hand and clasped the ankle, yanking to be free from underneath the pressing weight, growling his agony.

"Then, someone had to miss."

These words strung together carried a weight like a stone, and Leblanc felt it hit her gut. Crimson Squad Exercise this phrase she knew from the very scant-detailed secret that Nooj had divulged to her in confidence, a long time ago. The time ago when her love had just began to blossom for him and his smiles. His rare smiles. Destroyed by the his past. His past that was the Crimson Squad Exercise and everything before it.

And as Logos writhed under that pressing foot, her face flushed with anger again. She understood the accusation. But couldn't believe it.

"Are you going to say hello yet? They're all watching."

"Stop it!" Logos shouted past bared teeth.

"Do you know this man?" He repeated again for Nooj, who was gripping the device so heart his dark knuckles paled. "Do you?"

"He doesn't! I told you that already!" Logos blurted, crumbling under the weight of the foot and the unseen presences bearing witness. He was hissing spittle-lined breaths and screwing his eyes shut. He shook his head while swallowing, choking, "No one knows who I am! Not a soul. You're not going to get what you want, nobody knows me. No one knows who I am!"

The Man bent on the knee, bringing more pressure and a sharper pain to him and his despairing words strangled on his cry. It had been a desperate attempt.

"I remember who you are." Nooj said to the man coolly, although his face was anything but. "You gave us our first mission as Crimson Squad members. You sent us to die."

"A pity you failed that mission." The foot was kicked off of the red splotch, propelling the recorder backwards to land on sure feet. Logos gasped, his head hanging low and bent over his chest as he grappled with this situation.

How had it never come to this before? How did he think he could ever keep this secret, dancing so close to the Mevyn and all his little friends?

But it was worth the risk. Because he was near the Boss.

She had given him a place to hide. Hide from this.

But here it was, it had come to a point. And it pierced him, shattering everything.

Nooj's voice was harsh. "You betrayed us. You are everything that was wrong with Yevon."

Logos winced, shutting his eyes tightly and drawing his mouth up. All of that had hardly existed, it was in the past. A shadowed past he kept his eyes averted from. But now it was being pulled screaming into the light. His terrible secret.

He was a traitor, in so many ways than one. Everything that was wrong with Yevon: the hidden violence, the unquestioning conformity, and the secrets. The Lies. He had eaten that up at one point, it was true. He did many things for Yevon, before that spell broke. He ran. He shut himself up, closing a heavy door between him and that. A door with a heart insignia.

Leblanc's hands trembled as her eyes turned to Nooj, who was staring wordlessly, hatefully, at the little screen. The screen that had a Logos laid low.

"There's going to be peace in Spira." Nooj said levelly, though his arm shook and his mouth grimaced, "There is more determined people willing to talk than there is men ready to tear each other apart."

The man cackled, "You know back in my day, we had a way of keeping the peace. We didn't talk. We acted. We got rid of any threats, with great prejudice. Isn't that right?"

He wasn't speaking to Nooj again, but instead, directly to Logos who shuddered. "I said isn't that right?"

"No."

"How many jobs did you do? Did you lose count?"

"Stop it."

"Do you remember what you said to me? Before the exercise? When we briefed you on what we were going to do, you said, it doesn't matter what I'm doing so long as I get paid."

"SHUT UP!" Logos's throat ripped with the force in which he hurled the command.

He rose, feeling his shoulder shift as it was jerked back by the limp wrist still pinned by the chain. He swung with his free hand, but it never made contact, as a loud Bang! threw him against the wall and painted it with a new dark smear. Logos's spine slid against scratching minerals, feeling a gushing from his upper stomach wet his belly. A burble of blood ruptured from his mouth and speckled his chin, and he sat in wide-eyed shock as not even pain hit his brain before this simple thought:

I forgot about the guard. How did I-?

Quivering fingers crawled over his ribs and rested against his fresh wound automatically, his other hand held uncomfortably suspended above his head by the chain. He tried to suck in a breath but it was lined with blood which bubbled from his nose now too.

The hooded man snapped his head to glare at the trigger happy guardsman with a look that betrayed his displeasure and annoyance. However, he did not let this expression slip into his voice as he kept the camera on Logos, who broke into another bloodied cough. An alarming amount burst from his mouth and was hurled into his lap. The man leaned down, making sure to keep Logos's battered face in frame as he grabbed the hollows of the gunslinger's cheeks, sidling it back and forth playfully. "Don't worry. We'll fix you up and keep you alive. Got plenty of material here to work with. Doctors too, believe it or not."

Logos's pupils dazedly peered upwards, but all he could see was the insignia on the back of the H.E.A.R.T.

"Why?" Logos wetly gurgled. He was fading, and fast. Tears were welling in his eyes for reasons he didn't quite grasp, and his face twitched with effort.

"You listening? Leblanc?"

Leblanc flinched back to life, the cogs that ran the machine to her world finally started to spin again. Slowly, doggedly. She reacted, closing her mouth from where it hung in shock. Seeing Logos mark the wall like that, like a sponge dipped in ink, she was shaking but she answered. "I am."

"Good. I've got your man. You want him back? Give us Nooj."

Leblanc stood, in between Lucille and Ruckus. She stiffened, and could not release the tension that pulled at her muscles tight as piano wire. It wavered, and quaked, but Leblanc could not undo that knot that tugged everything towards her spine.

"Boss, Don't." Logos shook his head, crackling on blood that garbled the words he spoke so weakly. "It's not-I'm not-"

Logos shuddered, feeling cold down to the pit of his stomach. If it came down to this, he could make peace. Logos just wished he didn't feel so damn sticky on the way out. But, there was still so much he had wanted to do, to say- he had wanted Leblanc to know.

"Tick-Tock Leblanc. It's the only thing he's good for, so if this doesn't look like it's going our way we won't hesitate to get rid of him."

Logos head was bobbing, losing a battle with gravity. He lifted his eyes to imploringly stare at the insignia. He couldn't speak anymore, breathing halted, but he tried to translate so much in just a look. The frame fizzled on that face, before powering off altogether with a click-whirr.


Hi! More suspense!

And perhaps an explanation. A lot has happened since I last wrote! I never planned my fiction out so I just stopped writing altogether for a time, but this fic especially I had a hard time working on. But now I think I know what I'm doing- both with this one and Boy's Named series (a 5 parter!) and Evil Senses. What's more, they're being edited by my awesome girlfriend, who is enjoying these and rekindling my passions for wasting time this way. She's my muse, I guess you could say. Especially when it comes to this fic ;) *although I think Boy's named is probably her favorite right now* It's been so long, I apologize if the writing style shifts suddenly. I sort of forgot how to write altogether for a bit, so it might be slow going. I want to finish these though. They keep haunting me periodically.

I've got a lot more to say and explain but I'll leave that for other chapters as we get to them. And we will get to them!

Hope you all are having a lovely day. :)