A/N: Two new chapters in the course of 3 days? Merry Belated Christmas to you, ha.
This is another long one. It also, once again, has a hell of a lot going on in it...I'll give you three guesses as to why I named it "Pivot", hehe.
Oh! And there's semi-autobiographicalness too, HA. Note the third paragraph...that's not really Logan, that's me. It was like 1:00 at night when I wrote the first part of this, you see, and I was doing very strange things like trying to surf on a wheeled footstool...
Anyway, my personal opinion is that this chapter is a lot of fun. Hopefully that'll be yours too...
*******
Oh gee, how wonderful. Seemed he now also had to suffer from insomnia.
The darkness of his room filled with sunlight at a painstakingly slow pace, and finally, as 9:00 a.m. rolled around it become clear to him that any attempts to sleep during this night...er, day...were futile. He pulled himself out of bed and began to reach for the exoskeleton, then decided he was in too much of a fog to bother with it and that, since he wasn't planning on leaving the house anyway, it wasn't worth the hassle. He went with the chair, feeling strangely more comfortable in it than he ever had before as he rolled himself out into the kitchen and made some coffee.
The caffeine quickly began working its magic on his overtired body while, despite his obviously sullen mood, his sleep-deprived senses demanded that he giggle like a lunatic at stupid things. Like the banana magnet on his refrigerator. Tee hee!
The goofiness swiftly vanished, though, and as he moved over to the window he could find not even a semblance of joy in the view. He could only detect the rotten and the mundane, and when he saw something that another might smile upon he frowned and focused on its negative aspects. There were children giddily playing ball in the street...but they were dressed in dirty, second-hand clothes and obviously ravaged by poverty. There were suits with briefcases going to work at jobs that, to them, were terribly important and probably paid a great deal of money...but as they walked or rode they passed the begging congregations of the jobless and the homeless, and the shabbily dressed common laborers, and didn't dare offer a cent or so much as a friendly smile. The world was a cruel and foreboding place without much in the way of happiness or hope, and suddenly he found himself wondering why he'd ever thought he could do anything about it.
He was about to pull away and sulk elsewhere when he noticed the two white vans parked in the alley between his and the next building. His eyes were then drawn to the corner of each of the two buildings, where there stood two men in rather puffy clothing who appeared almost to be on guard. He also took note of the band of roofers setting up on the roof below and climbing up onto his own. Something seemed very odd about this picture, and his naturally inquisitive mind sent bolts of curiosity and a need for explanation coursing through him, but he dismissed it and managed to convince himself that he was making the proverbial mountain out of a molehill. Hanging around Max for so long had just made him paranoid, that's all.
As he passed the phone on the way to deposit his coffee mug in the sink, the appliance began ringing yet again and briefly he was jolted with hope and anticipation, praying to every god ever worshipped by man that it was Lydecker. It was not; Max's dear, sweet best friend apparently had difficulty taking the hint that he didn't wish to speak with her, and frankly he was sick of hearing her voice. He reached over and briefly picked up the receiver then dropped it, severing the connection.
On the opposite end, something snapped inside Original Cindy's brain and it at last occurred to her who Max had been speaking of when she'd mentioned ending "one relationship on a bad note." She smacked herself in the forehead, wondering why in the hell it had taken her so long to figure out something so blatantly obvious, and, fearing something unpleasant was up with Mr. Heartbreaker, resolved to head over to Foggle Towers on her lunch break. Yeah, seemed he'd screwed her boo but good, but she wasn't about to let the poor guy defenestrate himself.
*******
They'd arrived at 0600 hours and presently it was nearing 1230. Hadn't exactly been the most exciting 390 minutes of their lives; hell, they'd spent 210 of those in roughly the same position, waiting for something that even their superiors were unable to describe. They had a general idea of what to expect, but mostly this was guesswork and such was a tad on the annoying side. Still, these were the orders and they were soldiers and a good soldier always obeys orders, as Rossario constantly had to remind his colleagues.
"Have you forgotten mission perameters, Laney? She's not there, so we have to wait for the broadcast to begin."
"I'm aware of that," Laney replied. "It just seems like it would be easier to take him in his current state. He's off his guard, he won't have time to react."
"Do you want your heard blown off?" Rossario whispered gruffly. "Look, these two have got something going on. We do this right, he becomes bait. Now why don't you take this opportunity to start acting like a soldier and submit to the frickin' directive?"
Harris cleared his throat at this and the two arguing men ceased their activity and turned to look at him. He gestured into the penthouse with his hand, softly asking his fellows to check out the computer. It had booted up on its own and was currently loading a program and preparing for its launch. Rossario chuckled to himself.
"Ah, so he's got it timed, huh? This is it, gentlemen. Time to prove yourselves and evade decommission."
*******
If there was one thing that hanging around with a genetically engineered fugitive super soldier had taught her, it was to always take seriously that which came across as suspicious. What was currently registering as such for her probably wouldn't even have been worthy of a second glance six months ago, but she had seen well over her share of the strange and terrible since Max had revealed her identity and so it bothered her immensely.
There were three roofers crowded around the skylight of Logan's apartment and another two hanging around the edge of his roof, looking as though they were waiting for something. She lowered her gaze and found a single on the roof below, and she was filled with panic when he signaled to those above, signaled with his hands in a way she'd only seen Max use before. Suddenly her legs had increased their motion and she was thankful for the slight sensation of cold metal rubbing against her ankle, serving as a reminder that she had the means to do some serious damage in the event of a physical emergency. She felt now like she was solely responsible for Logan's safety; in the bleak residue of a once grand and powerful world that was post-Pulse America, people had taken the term "turn the other cheek" a little too seriously, and Cindy knew that even if the supposed roofers started shooting wildly and without direction at Logan's penthouse, the average passer-by probably wouldn't consider it anything more than brief entertainment. As for the cops, heh. They could be bought and sold as easily as black market marijuana, and there was little doubt in her mind that they'd already been silenced if these people were truly up to no good.
Her eyes remained primarily upon the roofers, watching for anything out of the ordinary as she prayed that she wouldn't arrive too late. She pulled her vision back down to ground level as she neared the door of the lobby, though, the height of the building finally managing to obstruct her view. Fear traced painful patterns down her spine when her eyes met those of a man dressed in oddly puffy clothing standing at the building's corner. She knew she was right at that moment and she knew that her time was running out so she broke into a run, a frantic run, and he did as well and she reached for the door and begged silently for someone, ANYONE to notice and to care for once in their pathetic lives but then she was intercepted by the man and pulled tightly against him, his gun pushing discretely into her belly, and she hated all who walked by for their goddamned apathy.
"Where you goin'?" he whispered. She wriggled against him slightly, realizing that his clothing appeared puffy due to a bullet-proof vest, then heard him cock back the gun in a silent demand for her to remain still and she gulped loudly.
"I, uh..."
"Don't know, huh? No worries; I'll provide you with a destination." With that, she was pulled roughly around the corner and into the open arms of another man dressed in much the same fashion. "Tie 'er up," her original captor ordered, "I think she may be trouble." The next instant found her being shoved into a white van and for the first time in a long while she guiltily found herself wishing she'd never met Max or Logan.
*******
"Now?" Laney whined impatiently. They were so close to letting everything be ruined...why weren't they operating?
"Hold on," Rossario commanded, raising his hand to silence his companion. "This has got to be just right. Enough must play to grab attention, but not so much that we're compromised."
"I should certainly hope not," quipped Laney bitterly. Harris rolled his eyes and Rossario cast Laney a warning glance.
"Wait for it," he instructed, over-annunciating and drawing out every word as he tried to quell Laney's apparent affection for insubordinance. "Wait for it...okay...ready...NOW!"
*******
It was around 12:30 when Max and Zack, or Kris and Jim, moved into the diner to get a bite to eat. She took to twirling her newly dyed hair in her fingers, examining it in the light and trying without avail to get used to it, while he tried to hide the fact that every time he saw his now black hair and brown eyes in a reflective surface he was somewhat startled and almost regretted his decision. It was working, for his sister envied how he seemed so quickly to take to his new identity and wished she could feel as collected as he appeared.
As they softly ordered their food and sipped the small cups of water the waitress had given them, the attention of the room suddenly shifted wholly to the television in the corner, and when someone shouted "check it out, it's Eyes Only" the attentions of the two fugitives joined them.
She tried not to, but she felt proud. She felt proud that she had helped him all those times and proud that he still had the will to go on even after their massive falling out on the Space Needle. And then, of course, she felt the familiar sorrow of knowing she'd never get to tell him how proud she was and how she forgave him for what he'd said and she cared for him more than even she herself could tell. She'd never get to see him again, she'd never get to have what they could have had if everything had gone according to plan that fateful night, but at least he'd be safe and he'd still have Eyes Only. At least she'd no longer be a threat to his existence.
And then it was gone. His pixilated eyes, his distorted voice, they were gone, vanishing in mid-sentence. The hush that filled the room at that moment pounded in her brain and she felt the cup slip through her fingers to the floor, spilling what remained of its contents over her shoe.
*******
He knew it probably wasn't going to work, but he was tired beyond belief and emotionally drained to the point of nearing a breakdown, so he once again settled back into his pillow and tried to sleep. He told the taunting face of Max to leave him be and the warnings of Lydecker that he knew and had taken care of it and that everything was going to be all right. The subject of his focus became the dark red innards of his eyelids and he tried to make himself fade away into that darkness, fade into oblivion where nothing could harm him any longer. Deep, deliberate breaths, stillness and peace, whether or not it was only imagined.
He felt himself beginning to drift off when it struck him. His eyes flashed open and the events of a few months ago returned to him. After his near suicide and the incident with Mrs. Moreno, he had decided to have his ceiling fixed up and, after that, his entire roof. Apparently this gave the rest of his fellow tenants somewhat of an incentive, for by the time the repairmen and roofers had finished they'd done the entire building. There was no possible way that any roof on any portion of the building was so badly damaged again in such a short amount of time that more repair work was needed, and thusly there was no need for the roofers he'd seen earlier.
As if on cue, two of those "roofers" burst through his window into his room as these thoughts passed through his mind, and he could hear not only the crashing of his skylight but the disabling of his broadcast down the hall. He hardly had time to prop himself up on his elbows before another three joined those already at his side. On instinct, he reached over to his bedside table for the gun he'd left in the top drawer but stopped short when one of the men commanded him to freeze and five guns suddenly shared him as a target.
"Hey, check this thing out," one of the men said, gesturing toward the exoskeleton. The others looked to Logan for an explanation and he had no choice but to give it to them. Sadistically, the apparent leader of the group smiled and ordered the device dismantled and destroyed.
"Wait," Logan said bravely, his heart threatening to burst from his chest even as the words left his lips, "what would be the point of doing that?"
"Partially as a warning, partially to ensure that none of your operatives can benefit from its use." He nodded his head and Logan found himself wincing and whimpering as his only attainable ticket to independence and a sense of normality was ripped apart and crushed before his eyes. The chasm of his depression widened and he almost hoped that they'd shoot him right then and get it over with.
As this destruction of both machine and confidence ensued, the leader received transmission on his com and turned briefly away from the group, then looked to Logan and retained once again that unpleasant and sadistic smile.
"Seems we've pulled in one of your operative, or at least someone who appears to be...she did say she was coming to see you and that she feared for your life. Black girl, with a Jam Pony Messenger Service pass."
Suddenly he was filled to the brim and prickling with fear, not for himself but for the captured operative that wasn't truly his operative at all. Original Cindy...god, why did she have to feel such a dire need to speak with him? He swallowed hard and noticeably, and the leader took this as a sign that she was, indeed, working for him.
"Ah, good," he said. "Now, it's going to be a little hard to remove you forcefully without people taking notice, and our orders are to bring you in alive, so here's the deal: you hop in your little wheelchair and leave the building with us as if we're just some of your buddies, or you've got one less informant."
Another hard swallow, and he longed to be a turtle, to be able to retract into his shell and hide. His immediate thought was that he should again reach for his gun and try to fight them; screw Cindy, they needed him alive so they wouldn't dare shoot to kill and he might actually run the chance of saving himself. But he couldn't just let her die, he couldn't sit back at the moment of truth and silently proclaim himself more important than those he had fought so hard for so long to protect. He'd never be able to live it down, and not a day would pass when he wouldn't wish that she were alive and able to grace him with another of her tedious phone calls. He weighed the options and wanted to do the right thing but for some reason he remained silent. The soldier clicked his tongue and heaved a disappointed sigh.
"Very well," he drawled. "Alby, fire at will." And then Logan was burning, the heat searing his stomach and his throat and finally he found his voice.
"NO!" All eyes were on him as he sucked in a defeated breath and submitted to their demands. "I'll go...I'll go. Just don't kill her." The soldier chuckled.
"Cancel that. Seems our good friend Eyes Only's changed his mind. Why not let 'er know her stay on this fair planet's been extended? Might cheer her up some...over and out."
Then he was being hoisted into his chair and consumed with regret but relief and all manner of confused emotions. He wanted to believe he'd done something good but the gallows was now seeming closer than ever and the end for all of them, not just for himself and Lydecker but for Cindy and the operatives of the Informant Net and Max and even the still undisclosed X-5s appeared eminent, breathing down his neck like the soldiers wheeling him out of the building.
This is another long one. It also, once again, has a hell of a lot going on in it...I'll give you three guesses as to why I named it "Pivot", hehe.
Oh! And there's semi-autobiographicalness too, HA. Note the third paragraph...that's not really Logan, that's me. It was like 1:00 at night when I wrote the first part of this, you see, and I was doing very strange things like trying to surf on a wheeled footstool...
Anyway, my personal opinion is that this chapter is a lot of fun. Hopefully that'll be yours too...
*******
Oh gee, how wonderful. Seemed he now also had to suffer from insomnia.
The darkness of his room filled with sunlight at a painstakingly slow pace, and finally, as 9:00 a.m. rolled around it become clear to him that any attempts to sleep during this night...er, day...were futile. He pulled himself out of bed and began to reach for the exoskeleton, then decided he was in too much of a fog to bother with it and that, since he wasn't planning on leaving the house anyway, it wasn't worth the hassle. He went with the chair, feeling strangely more comfortable in it than he ever had before as he rolled himself out into the kitchen and made some coffee.
The caffeine quickly began working its magic on his overtired body while, despite his obviously sullen mood, his sleep-deprived senses demanded that he giggle like a lunatic at stupid things. Like the banana magnet on his refrigerator. Tee hee!
The goofiness swiftly vanished, though, and as he moved over to the window he could find not even a semblance of joy in the view. He could only detect the rotten and the mundane, and when he saw something that another might smile upon he frowned and focused on its negative aspects. There were children giddily playing ball in the street...but they were dressed in dirty, second-hand clothes and obviously ravaged by poverty. There were suits with briefcases going to work at jobs that, to them, were terribly important and probably paid a great deal of money...but as they walked or rode they passed the begging congregations of the jobless and the homeless, and the shabbily dressed common laborers, and didn't dare offer a cent or so much as a friendly smile. The world was a cruel and foreboding place without much in the way of happiness or hope, and suddenly he found himself wondering why he'd ever thought he could do anything about it.
He was about to pull away and sulk elsewhere when he noticed the two white vans parked in the alley between his and the next building. His eyes were then drawn to the corner of each of the two buildings, where there stood two men in rather puffy clothing who appeared almost to be on guard. He also took note of the band of roofers setting up on the roof below and climbing up onto his own. Something seemed very odd about this picture, and his naturally inquisitive mind sent bolts of curiosity and a need for explanation coursing through him, but he dismissed it and managed to convince himself that he was making the proverbial mountain out of a molehill. Hanging around Max for so long had just made him paranoid, that's all.
As he passed the phone on the way to deposit his coffee mug in the sink, the appliance began ringing yet again and briefly he was jolted with hope and anticipation, praying to every god ever worshipped by man that it was Lydecker. It was not; Max's dear, sweet best friend apparently had difficulty taking the hint that he didn't wish to speak with her, and frankly he was sick of hearing her voice. He reached over and briefly picked up the receiver then dropped it, severing the connection.
On the opposite end, something snapped inside Original Cindy's brain and it at last occurred to her who Max had been speaking of when she'd mentioned ending "one relationship on a bad note." She smacked herself in the forehead, wondering why in the hell it had taken her so long to figure out something so blatantly obvious, and, fearing something unpleasant was up with Mr. Heartbreaker, resolved to head over to Foggle Towers on her lunch break. Yeah, seemed he'd screwed her boo but good, but she wasn't about to let the poor guy defenestrate himself.
*******
They'd arrived at 0600 hours and presently it was nearing 1230. Hadn't exactly been the most exciting 390 minutes of their lives; hell, they'd spent 210 of those in roughly the same position, waiting for something that even their superiors were unable to describe. They had a general idea of what to expect, but mostly this was guesswork and such was a tad on the annoying side. Still, these were the orders and they were soldiers and a good soldier always obeys orders, as Rossario constantly had to remind his colleagues.
"Have you forgotten mission perameters, Laney? She's not there, so we have to wait for the broadcast to begin."
"I'm aware of that," Laney replied. "It just seems like it would be easier to take him in his current state. He's off his guard, he won't have time to react."
"Do you want your heard blown off?" Rossario whispered gruffly. "Look, these two have got something going on. We do this right, he becomes bait. Now why don't you take this opportunity to start acting like a soldier and submit to the frickin' directive?"
Harris cleared his throat at this and the two arguing men ceased their activity and turned to look at him. He gestured into the penthouse with his hand, softly asking his fellows to check out the computer. It had booted up on its own and was currently loading a program and preparing for its launch. Rossario chuckled to himself.
"Ah, so he's got it timed, huh? This is it, gentlemen. Time to prove yourselves and evade decommission."
*******
If there was one thing that hanging around with a genetically engineered fugitive super soldier had taught her, it was to always take seriously that which came across as suspicious. What was currently registering as such for her probably wouldn't even have been worthy of a second glance six months ago, but she had seen well over her share of the strange and terrible since Max had revealed her identity and so it bothered her immensely.
There were three roofers crowded around the skylight of Logan's apartment and another two hanging around the edge of his roof, looking as though they were waiting for something. She lowered her gaze and found a single on the roof below, and she was filled with panic when he signaled to those above, signaled with his hands in a way she'd only seen Max use before. Suddenly her legs had increased their motion and she was thankful for the slight sensation of cold metal rubbing against her ankle, serving as a reminder that she had the means to do some serious damage in the event of a physical emergency. She felt now like she was solely responsible for Logan's safety; in the bleak residue of a once grand and powerful world that was post-Pulse America, people had taken the term "turn the other cheek" a little too seriously, and Cindy knew that even if the supposed roofers started shooting wildly and without direction at Logan's penthouse, the average passer-by probably wouldn't consider it anything more than brief entertainment. As for the cops, heh. They could be bought and sold as easily as black market marijuana, and there was little doubt in her mind that they'd already been silenced if these people were truly up to no good.
Her eyes remained primarily upon the roofers, watching for anything out of the ordinary as she prayed that she wouldn't arrive too late. She pulled her vision back down to ground level as she neared the door of the lobby, though, the height of the building finally managing to obstruct her view. Fear traced painful patterns down her spine when her eyes met those of a man dressed in oddly puffy clothing standing at the building's corner. She knew she was right at that moment and she knew that her time was running out so she broke into a run, a frantic run, and he did as well and she reached for the door and begged silently for someone, ANYONE to notice and to care for once in their pathetic lives but then she was intercepted by the man and pulled tightly against him, his gun pushing discretely into her belly, and she hated all who walked by for their goddamned apathy.
"Where you goin'?" he whispered. She wriggled against him slightly, realizing that his clothing appeared puffy due to a bullet-proof vest, then heard him cock back the gun in a silent demand for her to remain still and she gulped loudly.
"I, uh..."
"Don't know, huh? No worries; I'll provide you with a destination." With that, she was pulled roughly around the corner and into the open arms of another man dressed in much the same fashion. "Tie 'er up," her original captor ordered, "I think she may be trouble." The next instant found her being shoved into a white van and for the first time in a long while she guiltily found herself wishing she'd never met Max or Logan.
*******
"Now?" Laney whined impatiently. They were so close to letting everything be ruined...why weren't they operating?
"Hold on," Rossario commanded, raising his hand to silence his companion. "This has got to be just right. Enough must play to grab attention, but not so much that we're compromised."
"I should certainly hope not," quipped Laney bitterly. Harris rolled his eyes and Rossario cast Laney a warning glance.
"Wait for it," he instructed, over-annunciating and drawing out every word as he tried to quell Laney's apparent affection for insubordinance. "Wait for it...okay...ready...NOW!"
*******
It was around 12:30 when Max and Zack, or Kris and Jim, moved into the diner to get a bite to eat. She took to twirling her newly dyed hair in her fingers, examining it in the light and trying without avail to get used to it, while he tried to hide the fact that every time he saw his now black hair and brown eyes in a reflective surface he was somewhat startled and almost regretted his decision. It was working, for his sister envied how he seemed so quickly to take to his new identity and wished she could feel as collected as he appeared.
As they softly ordered their food and sipped the small cups of water the waitress had given them, the attention of the room suddenly shifted wholly to the television in the corner, and when someone shouted "check it out, it's Eyes Only" the attentions of the two fugitives joined them.
She tried not to, but she felt proud. She felt proud that she had helped him all those times and proud that he still had the will to go on even after their massive falling out on the Space Needle. And then, of course, she felt the familiar sorrow of knowing she'd never get to tell him how proud she was and how she forgave him for what he'd said and she cared for him more than even she herself could tell. She'd never get to see him again, she'd never get to have what they could have had if everything had gone according to plan that fateful night, but at least he'd be safe and he'd still have Eyes Only. At least she'd no longer be a threat to his existence.
And then it was gone. His pixilated eyes, his distorted voice, they were gone, vanishing in mid-sentence. The hush that filled the room at that moment pounded in her brain and she felt the cup slip through her fingers to the floor, spilling what remained of its contents over her shoe.
*******
He knew it probably wasn't going to work, but he was tired beyond belief and emotionally drained to the point of nearing a breakdown, so he once again settled back into his pillow and tried to sleep. He told the taunting face of Max to leave him be and the warnings of Lydecker that he knew and had taken care of it and that everything was going to be all right. The subject of his focus became the dark red innards of his eyelids and he tried to make himself fade away into that darkness, fade into oblivion where nothing could harm him any longer. Deep, deliberate breaths, stillness and peace, whether or not it was only imagined.
He felt himself beginning to drift off when it struck him. His eyes flashed open and the events of a few months ago returned to him. After his near suicide and the incident with Mrs. Moreno, he had decided to have his ceiling fixed up and, after that, his entire roof. Apparently this gave the rest of his fellow tenants somewhat of an incentive, for by the time the repairmen and roofers had finished they'd done the entire building. There was no possible way that any roof on any portion of the building was so badly damaged again in such a short amount of time that more repair work was needed, and thusly there was no need for the roofers he'd seen earlier.
As if on cue, two of those "roofers" burst through his window into his room as these thoughts passed through his mind, and he could hear not only the crashing of his skylight but the disabling of his broadcast down the hall. He hardly had time to prop himself up on his elbows before another three joined those already at his side. On instinct, he reached over to his bedside table for the gun he'd left in the top drawer but stopped short when one of the men commanded him to freeze and five guns suddenly shared him as a target.
"Hey, check this thing out," one of the men said, gesturing toward the exoskeleton. The others looked to Logan for an explanation and he had no choice but to give it to them. Sadistically, the apparent leader of the group smiled and ordered the device dismantled and destroyed.
"Wait," Logan said bravely, his heart threatening to burst from his chest even as the words left his lips, "what would be the point of doing that?"
"Partially as a warning, partially to ensure that none of your operatives can benefit from its use." He nodded his head and Logan found himself wincing and whimpering as his only attainable ticket to independence and a sense of normality was ripped apart and crushed before his eyes. The chasm of his depression widened and he almost hoped that they'd shoot him right then and get it over with.
As this destruction of both machine and confidence ensued, the leader received transmission on his com and turned briefly away from the group, then looked to Logan and retained once again that unpleasant and sadistic smile.
"Seems we've pulled in one of your operative, or at least someone who appears to be...she did say she was coming to see you and that she feared for your life. Black girl, with a Jam Pony Messenger Service pass."
Suddenly he was filled to the brim and prickling with fear, not for himself but for the captured operative that wasn't truly his operative at all. Original Cindy...god, why did she have to feel such a dire need to speak with him? He swallowed hard and noticeably, and the leader took this as a sign that she was, indeed, working for him.
"Ah, good," he said. "Now, it's going to be a little hard to remove you forcefully without people taking notice, and our orders are to bring you in alive, so here's the deal: you hop in your little wheelchair and leave the building with us as if we're just some of your buddies, or you've got one less informant."
Another hard swallow, and he longed to be a turtle, to be able to retract into his shell and hide. His immediate thought was that he should again reach for his gun and try to fight them; screw Cindy, they needed him alive so they wouldn't dare shoot to kill and he might actually run the chance of saving himself. But he couldn't just let her die, he couldn't sit back at the moment of truth and silently proclaim himself more important than those he had fought so hard for so long to protect. He'd never be able to live it down, and not a day would pass when he wouldn't wish that she were alive and able to grace him with another of her tedious phone calls. He weighed the options and wanted to do the right thing but for some reason he remained silent. The soldier clicked his tongue and heaved a disappointed sigh.
"Very well," he drawled. "Alby, fire at will." And then Logan was burning, the heat searing his stomach and his throat and finally he found his voice.
"NO!" All eyes were on him as he sucked in a defeated breath and submitted to their demands. "I'll go...I'll go. Just don't kill her." The soldier chuckled.
"Cancel that. Seems our good friend Eyes Only's changed his mind. Why not let 'er know her stay on this fair planet's been extended? Might cheer her up some...over and out."
Then he was being hoisted into his chair and consumed with regret but relief and all manner of confused emotions. He wanted to believe he'd done something good but the gallows was now seeming closer than ever and the end for all of them, not just for himself and Lydecker but for Cindy and the operatives of the Informant Net and Max and even the still undisclosed X-5s appeared eminent, breathing down his neck like the soldiers wheeling him out of the building.