James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.
The Supreme
Lord said, "I am death, the mighty destroyer of the world, out to destroy. Even
without your participation all the warriors standing arrayed in the opposing
armies shall cease to exist." – The Bhagavad Gita, 11:32.
Logan
tapped his fingers against the handle of his wheelchair, not even aware that he
was doing so. He had been waiting so
long to finally see Max again, and now that she was apparently on her way, he
suddenly found himself nervous beyond description. The ribs were almost completely done, the sweet potato soufflé
had turned out perfect, the wine was open and breathing, and everything was
ready for him to immediately start the Bananas Foster for desert. All that he needed now was his overdue
dinner guest. Yeah, overdue by about a week, he thought angrily. Max had never put him off for so long
before, and he found the experience somewhat offensive. Their dinner had been planned and then Max
had cancelled not once, or even twice, but three times. Since she hadn't called again just as Logan
was ready to cook the ribs, he assumed she would be there. I
guess I'm lucky the ribs were vacuum sealed, he decided with a small grin.
No
sooner had the amusing thought crossed his mind than he had pummeled it out of
his head. This is not a social occasion, he reminded himself. He had some very serious things to discuss
with his wayward friend. He would
confront her about his suspicions that she had taken to the streets to
administer justice on her own. When she
admitted her role, and he was certain she would, he would try to talk her out
of it. He hoped he could show her how
wrong she was.
Unbidden,
he once again remembered the words that had been haunting him ever since
Lydecker had first spoken them. They were designed to kill. Coldly. Efficiently. And happily. All they need is a trigger. She's not the girl next door. You have no idea what she's capable of
doing. Over and over those words
had played themselves out in his mind, and over and over Logan had been forced
to admit the truth of it. She was at Manticore until she was about ten
years old. Do you know how much of an
individual's personality is forever set by the time she's ten years old? In an attempt to chase the disturbing
thoughts from his mind, Logan wheeled himself quickly toward the grill in his
kitchen and closely examined every inch of the ribs. Fat melted off of the bones and splattered on the heated metal,
creating a wonderfully scented smoke that filled the entire apartment with the
smell of barbecue. He couldn't help but
smile.
A
soft knock came from the door, and Logan immediately went to the door and
answered it, settling his eyes on Max. The sight was more than surprising. She wore a heavy brace on her bandaged left thigh, and seemed to need a
cane to get around. More surprising,
though, was her left shoulder. A cast
covered her arm from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder, and the arm was
supported in a sling. Bandages covered
her collarbone. The smile that she
flashed, however, was just as warm as it had ever been.
"Hi,"
Max said from the doorway. "You mind if
I come in?"
"No,"
Logan said quickly, knowing he was staring but unable to tear his gaze
away. "Please, come on in." He moved out of the way and Max entered
slowly, shuffling her feet slightly as she walked.
"So,
you gonna ask what happened?" Max asked.
"Oh...
yeah," Logan answered. Why ask when I'm already pretty sure? he
wondered. "So what happened?"
"I
took a spill on my bike," Max replied, shocking Logan with how easily she
lied. Well, was it really a lie? he asked himself, finding that he still
questioned whether or not his best friend had become what he was certain she
had.
"Well,
dinner's ready," he announced with a flourish of his hand, and Max's smile
somehow grew broader.
"I
was hoping you'd say that. Everything
smells so good, Logan. You really
outdid yourself this time."
The two friends sat down and
enjoyed the meal, though conversation was rather light. Logan was afraid to jump right into the
discussion he had been waiting for. He
knew how much could change. Dinner
ended and he made dessert, and he could almost swear he heard Max purring as
she ate the flambéed bananas and ice cream. Finally, he decided it was time, and pulled out a bottle of Godiva
Chocolate liqueur and poured two glasses. If this was to be his last dinner with Max, he wanted to be certain he
had pulled out all the stops and made it as perfect as it could be.
"I
have something important I want to talk to you about," he said as evenly as
possible, working to make certain he did not hold even the hint of judgment in
his voice. If Max felt he was
condemning her, Logan's intervention would fail before it even got started.
"Sounds
serious," Max replied.
"It
is," Logan responded. Rather than
speak, he simply looked his friend over, unsure as how to begin. How do
you ask your best friend if she's turned into an overly zealous, murderous
vigilante?
"It's
ok, Logan," Max assured him, obviously able to detect his unease. "You can talk to me about anything. I thought you knew that by now."
"Are
you Justice?" Logan suddenly blurted out, not knowing where he had found the
courage to ask the question. Max looked
like he had just punched her in the gut, and immediately Logan knew the
answer. He suddenly wished he could
take back the question, that he could just make things the way they had been
just minutes before.
"You
wouldn't ask the question if you didn't already know the answer," Max
muttered. "I know you well enough to
know that."
"So
you didn't fall off your bike, did you?" Logan asked.
"No."
"Gunshot
wounds?"
"Yeah."
"You
gonna be ok?"
"Yeah."
Silence
followed for several minutes after their brief exchange, as each of them looked
into the eyes of the other. Logan was
simply looking for any shred of remorse or guilt, but he saw none. Somehow, he felt that was worse than having
her admit her role in the first place.
"Why?"
Logan asked.
"Because
I can," Max replied simply, as if that she didn't need to say any more. She looked at her friend, and when Logan
did not say anything, she continued. "I
thought you of all people would understand, Logan. You sit up here broadcasting as Eyes Only. To outward appearances, you're simply Logan
Cale, spoiled little rich kid. Hardly
anyone knows that you use your resources and skills to help those that need it
most and can't do it themselves. What
I'm doing is the same thing, Logan. I
was given this transgenetically engineered body along with the highest level of
military training. I didn't ask for it
any more than you asked for your wealth, but it's there, just the same. Don't I have a responsibility to take on my
own crusade, just like you have?"
"It's
not the same thing," Logan replied.
"Oh
really? Why not?"
"I
don't go around the city killing people," Logan answered. "I don't go around passing judgment on my
own. The courts exist for a reason, and
like it or not, these slimeballs have a right to a fair trial."
"I
don't think it's necessary," Max said, shrugging her shoulders and immediately
wincing in pain. Logan guessed that Max
was having trouble adjusting to the fact that the left side of her body wasn't
even up to the simplest of movements.
"I
disagree with you," Logan stated evenly, though he knew he had already made his
opinion clear. "I can't approve of your
actions."
"I
don't remember asking you to," Max replied coldly. "It's my life, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm willing to go it alone if I have to."
"I
think you're gonna have to."
"Fine." Max struggled to rise to her feet, and then
she stood motionless for a moment, looking deeply into Logan's eyes. "Does this mean we're to be enemies."
"We're
not enemies," Logan said, trying to conceal the pain that was stabbing at his
heart. He had never expected Max to be
so indifferent to his plea for her to stop. "We can't be allies anymore, though. Maybe we can't even be friends. I still believe in the law, and you break it every time you go out on
the streets."
"I'm
out there to enforce the law," Max said boldly.
"It's
not your place to do that," Logan pleaded one last time, hoping he would be
able to break through to his friend, but knowing even as he did so that the
attempt was less than futile. "The
police should be doing it."
"Last
time I checked, the police were as crooked as the day is long," Max shot
back. "Someone has to do something to
make a difference. I have the ability
to do so, and that creates a responsibility on my part. Like I already said, I thought you'd
understand."
"I
don't," Logan replied. "You should
probably get going."
"You're
throwing me out?" Max asked.
"No,"
Logan answered. He sat in thought for a
second, and then corrected himself. "Actually, I guess I am. I'm
sorry."
"Me
too," Max replied. For the briefest of
moments, Logan thought he saw a tear forming in the corner of Max's left eye,
but he immediately decided it must have been a trick of the light. Se turned to leave, and then turned back
suddenly. "Are you going to report on
me as Eyes Only?"
"Do
you mean am I going to rat you out?" Logan asked.
"Yeah."
"No."
"Thanks."
"I'm not doing it for you,"
Logan answered. "I'm doing it for the
other X-5's, your brothers and sisters. You haven't forgotten about them, have you? If I reveal your identity, I'd also have to expose the truth of
what you are. Once the general populace
knew about Manticore, it would probably become harder for the others to blend
into society so easily. Then Lydecker
might be able to get at them. I won't
allow that. On the other hand, if it
gets out that I know who you are, but that I'm keeping it a secret, the few
honest cops that are out there, and who give me information, will cease to help
me because I'll be helping to cover the tracks of a murderer. It's a no-win situation, so I'll keep my
mouth shut. At least for now."
"Well, until next time,
then," Max said.
"Is
there going to be a next time?" Logan asked.
"I
hope so," Max said. Logan thought he
did a great job of hiding his surprise at the tenderness and pain in Max's
voice. For the first time in their
conversation he felt as if her decision was truly tearing at her. At
least there's still a bit of a conscience in there, he decided. I
guess there's hope after all.
Without
another word, Max hobbled from the apartment, and Logan let her go without
trying to stop her. It hurt him
greatly, just as he was sure it hurt her, but both of them were devoted to
their own beliefs, and both were too stubborn to consider an alternative. The same strength that allowed them to take
on a lone crusade against the world also prevented them from ever being able to
admit they could be wrong. Maybe Max was right. Maybe there'll be a next time someday. We've each chosen a different path in life,
with me going the way of the reporter and her going the way of the
warrior. I guess it's always possible
that our paths might cross again.
Fin
Author's
Request:
Well, I guess here is the place where I ask for reviews. I've already received some encouraging and
constructive feedback, so I want to thank all those that have contributed. Just please keep it up, ok? Well, this story is wrapped up, but I could
very easily continue the story of Max's journey down this path. So, for those of you that want more, rest
assured that the sequel is on the way (the prologue was already almost finished
before I completed this epilogue. If
you're interested, it seems the title will be 'The Code of Honor,' so keep an
eye out. Thanks lots, and I hope you
enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.