*****
You can't just sit around and watch shit unravel, you have to get right in there and wade in it to understand what's going on.
*****
CHAPTER THREE
"Pictures from Hell"
Foggle Towers
"So let me get this straight..you page me to come over here
and look at a painting?" Max turned to where Logan stood gazing
at the swirls of blues and yellows of the oil painted canvas.
"It's not just 'a painting' Max." Logan argued, still surveying
the work before him "This was one of Van Goth's most esteemed
works of art."
Max focused her attention back to the canvas "A man paints
what he sees after shoving a finger in his eyeball, and the
art critics eat it up like candy." she scoffed at the idea "And
people say OUR generation gets away with so much shit."
"Guess it's a matter of opinion." Logan shrugged, turning his
gaze away from the copy of 'Starry Night' he had miracously found
at a stall in South Market. "And this is not the only reason I
beeped you tonight."
"The plot thickens." Max announced dramatically "You got someone
you want greased?"
"Not in this case." Logan answered, trying to hide the smile
that escaped about the way she cut through the formalities and
went straight to the 'ass kicking' aspect of a job. "It's sort
of a search out assignment." he began walking in the direction
of his computer room.
"Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"' Max inquired, falling into step
behind him.
"Human." Logan gave her the choice she didn't think of. He picked
up a photo off his desk, facing the image towards her.
Max found herself staring face at the likeness of the woman she
had just met at Crash. "That's Cree.." she trailed off in puzzlement.
"You know her?" Logan asked, slightly surprised.
"Just informally." Max answered, "She hung with me and the guys
at Crash tonight. She had this killer voice, and Cindy wanted
to chill with her for a while. Why the need to seek her out?" she
asked finally.
Logan put down the picture and picked up another stack of photos
"This girl 'Cree' escaped from a brothel yesterday where she had
been held captive for three years."
Max took the first picture he gave her. It showed the half demolished
remains of the warehouse. She saw the images of the women behind the
Plexiglas prison. There were empty condom wrappers scattered on
the dirty ground. And she felt sick and revolted inside.
"Her and the other woman had to take on twenty men every day."
Logan broke her out of her musings. "That was the bare minimum.
Sometimes it went as high as fifty. They were beaten and starved
if they refused to put out, and had to live in that cubicle every
day."
"How'd she escape?" Max asked, not being able to tear her eyes
away from the photos he handed to her. It was one of some sort
of back room, with a dirty bed, and the faint outlines of brass
holders for chains on the floor.
"She just made a break for it one day." Logan responded, "Stole
a man's car when the pimp had his back turned."
"Talk about 'carpe diem." she had to repress the emotions that were
welling in her that might weaken her cast iron defenses. After all that
she had underwent, and all that she'd seen, this kinda thing always
got to her. Memories of heat cycles that were purely 'need' for her and
dominance for the random club and bar guys that crossed her very aroused path sprung to her mind. To them, she was just some late night screw. And since she had no control over her libido, she'd fuck their brains out, and then slink away, leaving them to think she was simply a horny nymphet they could find anytime they wanted to get a hard-on.
"Max?"
Logan's voice snapped her out of her trip down the 'sex life from hell' memory lane. She didn't even realize she had zoned out until he said her name "Hmm?"
"Are you okay?" he looked at her in slight concern over the way she spaced out on him.
"It those pictures." she stated simply "I've seen a lot of fucked up stuff in my time, but this ranks right up there with the worst of them."
"I think it scores pretty high on my 'shit' list as well." he concurred.
She finally placed the offensive photos back into Logan's hands "What
happened to her is cruel and sad, but why do you want to find her? It's
been my experience that low profiles are better when you're on the lamb."
"Once someone run's the tags on the car she stole, they'll be able to
pinpoint her in Seattle." he dropped the pictures back on his computer
desk "Her pimp and the sector police consider her stolen merchandise,
and they'll either sell her off again, or kill her, depending on which
way the money blows."
"And your plan is what? For me to drag her against her will to one of
your safe houses, hoping against hope that these thugs won't bother to
look in the obvious places, or that she won't just run away?"
"The obvious answer isn't always the correct one." he informed "Plus with the amount of abuse she suffered she won't be able to 'run' very far. I didn't even consider my safe houses. Just make sure she's aware of the paper trail she left behind her."
"I'm just suppose to go up to her and say 'hey, remember all that shit that happened to you? Want to relive it while I attempt to save your ass'?"
"Something like that." Logan agreed
"You make it sound like a piece of cake," she argued
"Never said it was." he defended "Just something that needs to be taken care of, a little loose end to save her life."
"Then I'll make sure and tie it off with a bow, and attach a sympathy card."
"Are you always so cynical when it comes to saving people's lives?" he asked
her straight out.
"If I smelled flowers and looked around for a coffin I would be a cynic. This is just my take on things, nothing more." she answered his remark honestly. "There's nothing funny 'bout a girl who had to put out 24/7 against her will."
Her tone held no mirth, indicating that she wasn't kidding. "I feel the
same way. That's why she needs the heads up on the tail on her back."
"There's a tail already?" Max asked in obvious confusion. That confusion soon sarcasm "Those bastards don't waste anytime do they?"
"No." Logan replied "And we shouldn't either. We need to get a hold of her somehow."
"I'll ask the guys 'bout it at work tomorrow, maybe she said some words 'bout where she might go."
"This would be the greasing you mentioned earlier?" he leaned against a corner of his computer desk.
"This girl don't grease her friends," she told him straight out "I'm just out to get a lil 411."
"Oh right, you save that for the low lives on the street."
"Supply and demand." she returned "Some need it more then others. So.."
she steered their conversation in another direction. "I hear these art
exhibits usually cater."
"I think I can meet that request." he responded "Seasoned grilled lemon
chicken and rice pilaf okay?"
"You gotta ask?" she quipped, heading towards his kitchen to raid the
refrigerator.
You can't just sit around and watch shit unravel, you have to get right in there and wade in it to understand what's going on.
*****
CHAPTER THREE
"Pictures from Hell"
Foggle Towers
"So let me get this straight..you page me to come over here
and look at a painting?" Max turned to where Logan stood gazing
at the swirls of blues and yellows of the oil painted canvas.
"It's not just 'a painting' Max." Logan argued, still surveying
the work before him "This was one of Van Goth's most esteemed
works of art."
Max focused her attention back to the canvas "A man paints
what he sees after shoving a finger in his eyeball, and the
art critics eat it up like candy." she scoffed at the idea "And
people say OUR generation gets away with so much shit."
"Guess it's a matter of opinion." Logan shrugged, turning his
gaze away from the copy of 'Starry Night' he had miracously found
at a stall in South Market. "And this is not the only reason I
beeped you tonight."
"The plot thickens." Max announced dramatically "You got someone
you want greased?"
"Not in this case." Logan answered, trying to hide the smile
that escaped about the way she cut through the formalities and
went straight to the 'ass kicking' aspect of a job. "It's sort
of a search out assignment." he began walking in the direction
of his computer room.
"Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"' Max inquired, falling into step
behind him.
"Human." Logan gave her the choice she didn't think of. He picked
up a photo off his desk, facing the image towards her.
Max found herself staring face at the likeness of the woman she
had just met at Crash. "That's Cree.." she trailed off in puzzlement.
"You know her?" Logan asked, slightly surprised.
"Just informally." Max answered, "She hung with me and the guys
at Crash tonight. She had this killer voice, and Cindy wanted
to chill with her for a while. Why the need to seek her out?" she
asked finally.
Logan put down the picture and picked up another stack of photos
"This girl 'Cree' escaped from a brothel yesterday where she had
been held captive for three years."
Max took the first picture he gave her. It showed the half demolished
remains of the warehouse. She saw the images of the women behind the
Plexiglas prison. There were empty condom wrappers scattered on
the dirty ground. And she felt sick and revolted inside.
"Her and the other woman had to take on twenty men every day."
Logan broke her out of her musings. "That was the bare minimum.
Sometimes it went as high as fifty. They were beaten and starved
if they refused to put out, and had to live in that cubicle every
day."
"How'd she escape?" Max asked, not being able to tear her eyes
away from the photos he handed to her. It was one of some sort
of back room, with a dirty bed, and the faint outlines of brass
holders for chains on the floor.
"She just made a break for it one day." Logan responded, "Stole
a man's car when the pimp had his back turned."
"Talk about 'carpe diem." she had to repress the emotions that were
welling in her that might weaken her cast iron defenses. After all that
she had underwent, and all that she'd seen, this kinda thing always
got to her. Memories of heat cycles that were purely 'need' for her and
dominance for the random club and bar guys that crossed her very aroused path sprung to her mind. To them, she was just some late night screw. And since she had no control over her libido, she'd fuck their brains out, and then slink away, leaving them to think she was simply a horny nymphet they could find anytime they wanted to get a hard-on.
"Max?"
Logan's voice snapped her out of her trip down the 'sex life from hell' memory lane. She didn't even realize she had zoned out until he said her name "Hmm?"
"Are you okay?" he looked at her in slight concern over the way she spaced out on him.
"It those pictures." she stated simply "I've seen a lot of fucked up stuff in my time, but this ranks right up there with the worst of them."
"I think it scores pretty high on my 'shit' list as well." he concurred.
She finally placed the offensive photos back into Logan's hands "What
happened to her is cruel and sad, but why do you want to find her? It's
been my experience that low profiles are better when you're on the lamb."
"Once someone run's the tags on the car she stole, they'll be able to
pinpoint her in Seattle." he dropped the pictures back on his computer
desk "Her pimp and the sector police consider her stolen merchandise,
and they'll either sell her off again, or kill her, depending on which
way the money blows."
"And your plan is what? For me to drag her against her will to one of
your safe houses, hoping against hope that these thugs won't bother to
look in the obvious places, or that she won't just run away?"
"The obvious answer isn't always the correct one." he informed "Plus with the amount of abuse she suffered she won't be able to 'run' very far. I didn't even consider my safe houses. Just make sure she's aware of the paper trail she left behind her."
"I'm just suppose to go up to her and say 'hey, remember all that shit that happened to you? Want to relive it while I attempt to save your ass'?"
"Something like that." Logan agreed
"You make it sound like a piece of cake," she argued
"Never said it was." he defended "Just something that needs to be taken care of, a little loose end to save her life."
"Then I'll make sure and tie it off with a bow, and attach a sympathy card."
"Are you always so cynical when it comes to saving people's lives?" he asked
her straight out.
"If I smelled flowers and looked around for a coffin I would be a cynic. This is just my take on things, nothing more." she answered his remark honestly. "There's nothing funny 'bout a girl who had to put out 24/7 against her will."
Her tone held no mirth, indicating that she wasn't kidding. "I feel the
same way. That's why she needs the heads up on the tail on her back."
"There's a tail already?" Max asked in obvious confusion. That confusion soon sarcasm "Those bastards don't waste anytime do they?"
"No." Logan replied "And we shouldn't either. We need to get a hold of her somehow."
"I'll ask the guys 'bout it at work tomorrow, maybe she said some words 'bout where she might go."
"This would be the greasing you mentioned earlier?" he leaned against a corner of his computer desk.
"This girl don't grease her friends," she told him straight out "I'm just out to get a lil 411."
"Oh right, you save that for the low lives on the street."
"Supply and demand." she returned "Some need it more then others. So.."
she steered their conversation in another direction. "I hear these art
exhibits usually cater."
"I think I can meet that request." he responded "Seasoned grilled lemon
chicken and rice pilaf okay?"
"You gotta ask?" she quipped, heading towards his kitchen to raid the
refrigerator.