Gosh, I really love this chapter. Its one of my best. Hope you all like it. Its the entire story's baseline. Hey, I know, y'all love me. :) I am, however, looking for a beta. I'll say that again. I'M LOOKING FOR A BETA! That means I need YOU! LoL. So, somebody please tell me you'll beta. And don't beta because you want a sneak preview.
If you continually rite lik this and want 2 beta even tho u cant spell and use no grammar dont even try because ill just ignor ur letters after u dont send me back anything ive done it before and will do it again so dont think i wont
( . . .write like this and want to beta even though you can't spell and use no grammar. Don't even try because I'll just ignore your letters after you don't send me back anything. I've done it before and will do it again, so don't even think I wont!)
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Part .03
The next morning, Logan took a walk down to Jam Pony to get a package delivered and to check up on a source that had requested a meeting with him. Leaving a note for Cindy and Bling to find, Logan was out the door before nine o'clock, a wonderful feat for the man who hadn't known the meaning of the word sunrise until those seven days when he hadn't slept.
Normal was his usual self. Logan doubted whether anything would actually change Normal's outlook on life. Life was to be lived and tolerated, if you took Normal's point of view. Logan knew better. Life was to be experienced with fresh eyes every time she threw something at you. If you didn't grab what you saw, you'd miss it forever.
The source turned up ten minutes late. Logan was just about to forget the whole thing when the woman showed up, gasping for breath. She apologized and explained that her daughter had a project due in school that day so she'd been driven instead of walking.
"When I was a kid, we had buses, but now, its walking or driving, and neither of them are safe. I'm here because I want her safe. Now, your boss, he's the kind of man . . ." the source continued on this vein for some time. Logan let her continue. It relaxed him, talking to sources. It always reminded him how wonderful his life was and how he could change the situation of others.
"Anyway, why I called your line. My husband, God d*mn the lying, cheating, no good b*stard, who's been dead for three months, had lots of papers in his safe." Logan was familiar with this story and the woman's way of talking. Her husband, an important military man, had been abusive of his wife and daughter. He had committed suicide not two days after his wife became a source. The source and her daughter hadn't been present at the funeral, but she made it known that she had invited all twenty or so of his mistresses. Fifteen should up, according to a popular rumor.
"Now, he thought that I didn't know where the safe was or what the combination was, but, let me tell you, I'm smart. I'm the type of person who checks out things and then," the source pulled out a notebook, "write them down. I copied down papers into this little notebook. Now, I don't know but what this might be of some help to you. See, my daughter, Ashton, godd*mn father named her, poor thing, idolizes your boss. She has tapes of your boss, see, and watches them over and over." The source grinned and thought about her daughter, watching the tapes of the broadcasts, taking notes and such. Logan was, again, familiar with the story of Ashton.
"Now, Ash, she says 'Mamia,' that's what she calls me, Mamia. 'Mamia,' she says, 'Eyes Only once mentioned this group called X-5, but he never mentioned them again. Now, on everything else I can find, he mentions things over and over again. But this one day, he mentions the X-5s, then acts as if they drop off the face of the earth. Maybe he can't find no more on them.' Now, me having a good memory, I remember copying down a lot of information about these X-5 peoples. Just reports, like that Irish b*stard had on all those other X-groups from that one jail he did work at. Also, I remember copying down, maybe four, five years ago, this paper about somebody called X-5 332. On this paper, I'm not sure, but I think he's also known as Max -- "
"She," Logan said automatically.
"You know this Max, then?" asked the source, "then I guess this information is not good at all."
"She died about four years ago in a car accident," Logan said, smiling. "I'm sorry. But maybe something else -- "
"This Max person, dead? Not according to the papers that I copied out my husband, that Irish b*stard's, safe. The last papers he put into the safe were about this X-5 332."
The blood drained from Logan's face. "Are you certain?"
"Sure as I killed that b*stard, I'm certain," said the source, with a grin. Logan ignored her comment. "She used to turn up quite frequently, almost constantly in all the papers, in the last three or four years," she opened her notebook. "See here, noncompliant with authority. And here too. Re-in-doctor-a-shun failure. Insubordinate. This here Max person has a temper, too. Lookie here, tried to leave, oh . . . fifty-two times . . . in the last four years. I think she's a prisoner in some jailhouse. See here, says solitary confinement. Here too . . . and here . . . and there . . . used to call her, what was it I called her? Oh yeah, used to call her the troubled soul, because she was always in such problems there. I don't like the jails that my husband did the reports on and likely as not she was probably just tooken in for prostitution or something equally stupid. You certain she died? Maybe she just got carted off to this stupid jailhouse."
"I'm not certain of anything. What's the name of the jailhouse you think she's in?" Logan asked quietly.
"Oh, that thing? Something Greek. Oh yeah, here it is. Gotta translate my shorthand, jus' a sec," the source pulled out another notebook filled with shorthand definitions. "MTCR . . . oh yes, Manticore. That's where she is."
If you continually rite lik this and want 2 beta even tho u cant spell and use no grammar dont even try because ill just ignor ur letters after u dont send me back anything ive done it before and will do it again so dont think i wont
( . . .write like this and want to beta even though you can't spell and use no grammar. Don't even try because I'll just ignore your letters after you don't send me back anything. I've done it before and will do it again, so don't even think I wont!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part .03
The next morning, Logan took a walk down to Jam Pony to get a package delivered and to check up on a source that had requested a meeting with him. Leaving a note for Cindy and Bling to find, Logan was out the door before nine o'clock, a wonderful feat for the man who hadn't known the meaning of the word sunrise until those seven days when he hadn't slept.
Normal was his usual self. Logan doubted whether anything would actually change Normal's outlook on life. Life was to be lived and tolerated, if you took Normal's point of view. Logan knew better. Life was to be experienced with fresh eyes every time she threw something at you. If you didn't grab what you saw, you'd miss it forever.
The source turned up ten minutes late. Logan was just about to forget the whole thing when the woman showed up, gasping for breath. She apologized and explained that her daughter had a project due in school that day so she'd been driven instead of walking.
"When I was a kid, we had buses, but now, its walking or driving, and neither of them are safe. I'm here because I want her safe. Now, your boss, he's the kind of man . . ." the source continued on this vein for some time. Logan let her continue. It relaxed him, talking to sources. It always reminded him how wonderful his life was and how he could change the situation of others.
"Anyway, why I called your line. My husband, God d*mn the lying, cheating, no good b*stard, who's been dead for three months, had lots of papers in his safe." Logan was familiar with this story and the woman's way of talking. Her husband, an important military man, had been abusive of his wife and daughter. He had committed suicide not two days after his wife became a source. The source and her daughter hadn't been present at the funeral, but she made it known that she had invited all twenty or so of his mistresses. Fifteen should up, according to a popular rumor.
"Now, he thought that I didn't know where the safe was or what the combination was, but, let me tell you, I'm smart. I'm the type of person who checks out things and then," the source pulled out a notebook, "write them down. I copied down papers into this little notebook. Now, I don't know but what this might be of some help to you. See, my daughter, Ashton, godd*mn father named her, poor thing, idolizes your boss. She has tapes of your boss, see, and watches them over and over." The source grinned and thought about her daughter, watching the tapes of the broadcasts, taking notes and such. Logan was, again, familiar with the story of Ashton.
"Now, Ash, she says 'Mamia,' that's what she calls me, Mamia. 'Mamia,' she says, 'Eyes Only once mentioned this group called X-5, but he never mentioned them again. Now, on everything else I can find, he mentions things over and over again. But this one day, he mentions the X-5s, then acts as if they drop off the face of the earth. Maybe he can't find no more on them.' Now, me having a good memory, I remember copying down a lot of information about these X-5 peoples. Just reports, like that Irish b*stard had on all those other X-groups from that one jail he did work at. Also, I remember copying down, maybe four, five years ago, this paper about somebody called X-5 332. On this paper, I'm not sure, but I think he's also known as Max -- "
"She," Logan said automatically.
"You know this Max, then?" asked the source, "then I guess this information is not good at all."
"She died about four years ago in a car accident," Logan said, smiling. "I'm sorry. But maybe something else -- "
"This Max person, dead? Not according to the papers that I copied out my husband, that Irish b*stard's, safe. The last papers he put into the safe were about this X-5 332."
The blood drained from Logan's face. "Are you certain?"
"Sure as I killed that b*stard, I'm certain," said the source, with a grin. Logan ignored her comment. "She used to turn up quite frequently, almost constantly in all the papers, in the last three or four years," she opened her notebook. "See here, noncompliant with authority. And here too. Re-in-doctor-a-shun failure. Insubordinate. This here Max person has a temper, too. Lookie here, tried to leave, oh . . . fifty-two times . . . in the last four years. I think she's a prisoner in some jailhouse. See here, says solitary confinement. Here too . . . and here . . . and there . . . used to call her, what was it I called her? Oh yeah, used to call her the troubled soul, because she was always in such problems there. I don't like the jails that my husband did the reports on and likely as not she was probably just tooken in for prostitution or something equally stupid. You certain she died? Maybe she just got carted off to this stupid jailhouse."
"I'm not certain of anything. What's the name of the jailhouse you think she's in?" Logan asked quietly.
"Oh, that thing? Something Greek. Oh yeah, here it is. Gotta translate my shorthand, jus' a sec," the source pulled out another notebook filled with shorthand definitions. "MTCR . . . oh yes, Manticore. That's where she is."
