Ok for some reason I feel like I should issue a content warning for this chapter just in case anyone reading it is unprepared for a little brutal violence and strong language. Lets see, it is rated R so you should already know what you're letting yourself in for. Does anybody even read my fiction? I don't know cos' as I have been told it isn't really Dark Angel. Although it uses the characters and their personalities, the story involves my own creations and is a little too dark and cheesy for your average episode of the quality show. What am I on about? Who knows, anyways yup enjoy, I hope. You have been warned!!
Chapter 15: Casualties
It was daybreak by the time Max was able to gain some measure of peace, drifting off into an uncomfortable but greatly need sleep. Logan sat watching her huddled form in case she should wake and be in need of further comfort. That was all he could offer her: a shoulder to cry on. Logan couldn't erase the previous night's events; he couldn't magic all the pain and grief away no matter how much he wished he could. All he could offer her was himself and he hoped that that would be enough.
With a heavy sigh, Logan drifted over to his bedroom window. He stared outside at the expanse of grey buildings that spread out in all directions. A transparent fog hung above the city almost as if it feared it may not be welcome today. The clouds also seemed rather apprehensive about performing their daily task. Their jagged appearance gave the usual signal that they intended to rain but so far all they had done was threaten rain.
Logan jumped as he heard Max moan in mild discomfort. Turning, he was thankful to see that she was still asleep; whatever had disturbed her now gone from whatever dreams her mind was running.
Logan took one last look outside before drawing the translucent blue curtains shut. The room fell dark but enough light filtered through to allow Logan to stumble back to his seat by the bed.
He sat on the edge of the chair and began to rummage through the chestnut bedside cabinet that stood a little to his left. Logan fished out a long narrow candle and placed it on top of the cabinet. He then pulled out a box of matches and struck one, on the third attempt, the room lighting up in an explosion of orange. The flame crackled as the wick of the candle caught fire. Logan blew the match out and sat back in the quiet illumination of the candle's light, picking up the glass of scotch that waited at his feet.
The smell of charcoal and fresh smoke lingered in Logan's nose. He stared first at the jittery flame, and then at max, resting his stubbled chin on his fist. He downed his glass of scotch in one. The foul liquid burned his throat as it went down. Logan grimace and cursed under his breath, not quite understanding the purpose of the activity. It was supposed to numb the pain, but he was onto his sixth and the pain was still like a fresh cut. All he had accomplished was a confused state of drowsiness that inhibited his thoughts and movements. Logan guessed that would just have to do.
Max moaned again and shifted in the bed. Logan considered waking her, fearing she may be trapped in some unwanted nightmare. Reluctantly he decided against it; whatever terror her mind was conjuring up, it could not be as bad as the sobering reality Logan was currently sitting in. Knowing that somewhere in the vastness of Seattle, a real monster lurked ready to pounce and claim another victim.
Last night had been Logan's first encounter with the monstrous Gray and he now understood why Max had been so anxious to leave. Remembering that cruel twisted smile and those obscenely dark eyes caused Logan's drunken body to shudder while his insides tangled up in a desperate attempt to hide.
Logan hovered in his seat waiting for his stomach to expel its contents. The feeling passed and Logan breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned forward and placed a hand on Max's cheek. Her skin felt feverish and glittering beads of perspiration were forming on her forehead. Black smudges of mascara were still present under her eyes and her hair was now an unorganised mess against the pillow.
"I'm sorry Max," Logan said softly, gently clearing the black stains from under her eyes. She was the strongest person he knew but even Max had to succumb to mere human emotion sometimes. She was always so flippant, dismissive of danger and taking everything in her stride, but not last night and not with Gray.
Last night had been the first time Logan had seen Max truly afraid. Every bone so riddled with terror that she couldn't move. Gray had stood there hovering over Alec's dying body and Max could do nothing but watch and listen to his chilling promise of, "soon."
There had been nothing they could do for Alec but let him die. They had mourned the loss before the approaching authorities forced them to go leaving the body behind. Alec was probably lying right now in some dingy post-pulse hospital morgue acting as fuel to spark another transgenic hunt. It was a fate truly undeserving of Alec who had given his life for a fight that wasn't really his. This wasn't how things were supposed to go, it wasn't fair, hadn't they been through enough already!
A tear fell like a raindrop from Logan's eye. It splashed lightly on Max's cheek where it lay like a reflective puddle of sadness. The whole bedroom seemed to reek of sorrow and loss. The two occupants it held so dearly had contaminated it.
Tragedy seemed to be the operative word for their lives of late, especially for Max. It seemed to rely on her as a stage on which it could demonstrate its capabilities, act out its purpose. The effects were slowly taking their toll and Max was sinking deeper and deeper into the void of complete nothingness. For the penultimate act, tragedy had joined hands with fate and together they arranged for the reaper to come and collect Max's friends like little trinkets. It had the desired effect and now only Logan remained by Max's side and the curtain was still waiting to fall.
Not realising he had fallen asleep, Logan awoke with a startled jump. The candle had burned to half way, the melted wax looked like healthy veins as it spewed downwards-forming pools on the surface of the cabinet. Max was still asleep and seemed at ease so Logan decided to go downstairs and fix himself a snack.
The kitchen was filled with the pale grey light of early afternoon and the air in the room was oddly fresh. Logan's eyes squinted as they adjusted to the presence of daylight. His bare feet shivered on the cold floor as he stumbled past the dinner table. He yawned as looked through the sanded cupboards, finding nothing particularly appetising. His stomach rumbled again reminding him of its need for nourishment of some form. The kettle was half full and so Logan decided to on a cup of black coffee to sustain him until he had the energy to go and collect some groceries.
The kettle roared with enjoyment as Logan sat with his head in his hands. He was in the seat that Alec had sat in only the other day, where Logan had thanked him for all he had done: finding the cure and bringing Max back into his life. If he thought hard enough, Logan could see Alec's look of bewilderment as he hugged him thanking him profusely. The kettle clicked off, waking Logan from another unplanned snooze.
The black liquid tasted bitter but quelled the mumbling pain in Logan's head allowing him to think properly. They had set out last night primarily to gain Gray's designation and, although the price paid had been to high, they now possessed the information: 452, the same as Max. This rose yet more questions and not the answers they had hoped for. From Logan's' knowledge, each transgenic had their own unique designation to set them apart from the others. Why then, did Max and Gray have the same one? Did it have any significant meaning or was it just a coincidence?
A light thud came form the hallway as something dropped through the letterbox. Logan rose to his feet, thankful for the distraction of late post. He walked into the hall and found a small white envelope lying on the floor. It had no markings except for a name written in a hurried and untidy manner. Logan picked the envelope up and examined it more closely. The name was his, the unintelligible letters taking shape to spell Logan Cale.
Carefully, Logan opened the envelope to find a small sheet of paper with the same scruffy writing on it. After examination Logan discovered the message: for answers come to Terminal City. That was it; there was nothing else, no clue as to who had sent it and why.
Returning to the kitchen, Logan sat and studied the letter some more. It was certainly suspicious and could easily be a trap set-up by Gray or someone else, perhaps and old enemy of Eye's Only. At the same time it could be genuine: somebody who had information, who could shed light on the mystery that was Gray, 452. What did it mean?
After mulling things over, Logan decided he would go to Terminal City. It didn't take him long to make this decision. He knew it was a risk, could just be a prank, but they were desperate; he had to go for it. If there was the slightest possibility that he could gain some answers then it would be worth it. Max had been reduced to a whimpering wreck and it tore at Logan to see her like that, it wasn't Max; it wasn't who she was. In his hand he held the potential to help her and he knew that he had to at least see where it led. If it turned out to be a trap then he would just have to deal with it.
Logan attempted to re-assure himself once more, sighting more reasons why he should return to Terminal City. The note had not specified a time so Logan decided to go get ready; better to go now before he lost his nerve.
Max was still sleeping as Logan finished strapping on his exo-skeleton. In the event of an ambush, he would be in dire need of the enhanced strength the device gave him. He knew that if he was walking into an encounter with Gray then it wouldn't matter how much extra strength he had, but it was still a small comfort. Logan sighed, unhappy that he was leaving his future in the hands of fate. Not only had the bastard royally screwed him, but Logan like to feel like he was in control of his own destiny. He had made the choice to go and therefore he was responsible for the consequences. Still Logan couldn't help but feel like the current was pulling him along. That what waited for him at Terminal City, be they friend of foe, was part of a larger design that went beyond his comprehension.
Logan laughed at his feeble attempts at philosophising, realising that his mind was churning out large quantities of verbal diahorrea in the absence of better material to muse over. Still, it was a nice distraction as he finished getting dressed, selecting a pair of baggy combat trousers to conceal the exo-skeleton underneath.
Quietly, he moved over to the bed and sat next to the sleeping Max, Logan had thought of waking her, she would be handy in a scrap, but he decided this was something he would have to do alone. Hopefully he would return before she woke and be waiting with the answers to all her problems, shining a ray of light on the dark place she was now trapped in. It was nice to hope, even if it went beyond the realm of plausibility.
Leaning over, Logan kissed Max gently on the forehead and placed a note explaining that he had gone for groceries, on the bedside cabinet. He then proceeded out the room, pausing for one last look at Max before vanishing out the door.
By the time Logan reached the gates of Terminal City, the rain that had began has a drizzle, had matured into a full on downpour. The heavy drops thundered ferociously against the metallic shell of his car and the wipers fought valiantly against them, whimpering as they scraped against the windscreen. Logan sat in the warmth of his car and stared at the run down buildings that lay before him while listening to the hypnotic pounding of the rain.
The gates opened and Logan's mind was flooded with the memories of last year. Although he and Max were now together, virus free, nothing would ever make him forget what had happened here. There was no escaping the sense of loss and hurt represented in physical form by Terminal City. Alec's death the previous night increased the poignancy of the moment as Logan fought the urge to cry. Had they really come so far or were they still there waiting behind the gates of Terminal City, waiting to be destroyed?
Logan cleared his mind and forced himself out of the car and into the driving rain. The jets struck him like daggers and Logan pulled his coat over his head as he hurried over to the wire mesh fence that surrounded the perimeter. He slipped through a tiny gap, his coat getting snagged on one of the stray wires.
Once past the fence, Logan stopped and looked around. The place was desolate, completely abandoned. The cracked roads and pavements were still littered in burned out barrels, trashcans and dumpsters, and various forms of garbage. Spent cartridges still lay where they had fallen over a year ago and if Logan looked carefully, he could see the sickening stains of blood that tarnished the ground. The battered buildings that surrounded him were like ghosts that haunted the city such was their near death like appearance. Each had been violated by the impact of weapons fire and the inevitable destruction of neglect and time.
The past seemed to linger in the damp air and Logan had to shake himself down in order to concentrate. The note had not specified an actual part of the city and Logan was not too keen to venture to far into its depths. This left him at a loss as to what to do next. There was no sign of anybody else and he was fast becoming soaked to the bone and so Logan decided to find shelter.
Rushing inside an old high-rise apartment block, or was it a hotel; he couldn't tell, Logan was thankful to escape the relentless beating of the rain. He found himself in a small foyer falling in on itself, the floor covered in crumbled brick and rusty pipes. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling that stretched up for about four floors and then there was just darkness. Streams of water fell from numerous unseen sources. The air smelt old and rotten and the only light came from the open doorway that led back out onto the street Logan had just come from.
Logan stood listening to the sound of the rain and the streaming water. Whoever sent the note certainly had a cruel sense of humour bringing him here. His mind felt numb and all he wanted to do was return to Max's side, just be there for her when she woke up. Logan had to fight the urge to leave as it became ever more powerful with every passing minute.
"I know you're here Mr Cale, come on out so that we can talk."
Logan let his head drop along with his spirit as he laughed at his own foolish hope. Even for him, the deep voice was instantly recognisable. It was now blatantly obvious that he had walked blindly into a trap. Already feeling greatly demoralised, Logan resigned himself to fate and trudged back outside.
Gray waited at the other side of the street, no more than seventeen feet away. He was staring at Logan with bemused interest while the rain lashed at his face. His black trench coat was wrapped tightly around his well-built form and he seemed unmoved by the harsh weather conditions. Logan stood with his hands lodged firmly in his pockets, staring right back at Gray. He tried to conceal the fear that crawled through his body.
"I knew you would show up Mr Cale. I have to say I'm a little disappointed by your predictability." Gray had to shout in order to be heard over the rain.
"Is that right?" Logan shouted back.
"I thought you would be happier to see me. After all I do have what you need."
"You think you know what I need?"
"You need to know who I am, what I am." Gary sounded confident and this irritated Logan.
"I know what you are."
"Really," Gray sounded surprised but doubtful.
"You're a cold blooded killer, a perfectly designed monster who doesn't give a crap about the morals that control we mere mortals."
Gray snapped his head back and let out a bellowing laugh that seemed to shake the very ground on which they stood.
"Well you're half right I suppose," Gray said, still laughing to himself. "Is it alright if I call you Logan? I feel closer to you now we have had this little chat."
"Go ahead," Logan replied, still trying to maintain the false impression of confidence. "You said you had answers for me, it was you who delivered that note right?"
"Yes indeed, but first come." Gray motioned for Logan to follow. "There's something I wish to show you."
Logan thought of making a break for it but he knew he wouldn't get very far, even with the exo-skeleton strapped to his legs. Reluctantly, he followed and hoped he would make it out of this alive.
Together, side-by-side, Gray and Logan walked deep into the heart of Terminal City. Gray, who stood a good few inches above Logan, would occasionally look down at him and quietly laugh to himself. Other than that there was very little interaction between the two until Gray stopped outside a large concrete warehouse in an industrious looking area.
"Here we are," Gray said pulling open the rusty door and stepping aside so that Logan could go through first.
"Thanks," Logan said sarcastically, a little glad to once again be out of the rain.
The place was deserted, completely empty apart from a well-constructed pile of boxes in the far right corner. The concrete floor was covered in grime and puddles of water that had formed from the leaks in the roof. An overpowering smell of decay hit Logan with enough force to make him double back, spluttering into the wet lapel of his coat.
"I'm sorry about the smell Logan," Gray said, "I haven't had the time to clean up you see."
Logan followed Gray as he marched over to the pile of boxes. His face was still buried in his coat and he kept looking around but found no source of the pungent odour
Gray stopped in front of the boxes and turned back to Logan. His face bore an excited smile that stretched the skin on his face. He would have looked almost child like were it not for those jet black eyes. They were like two dark voids that offered a glimpse into the twisted reaches of his soul. It was almost unbearable to look at but Logan could not take his eyes away.
"Well?" Logan asked expectantly.
Gray nodded and proceeded to dismantle the construct of boxes. It did not take him long and soon Logan found himself staring at a dark, blood stained, cotton blanket. There were two human shapes underneath and Logan began to feel sick as the source of the smell was finally revealed.
Gray grabbed a corner of the blanket and pulled it away to reveal the first body. The sight caused Logan to spin away and wretch violently. He struggled to regain his composure as the place began to spin and the rotten smell of decayed flesh stabbed at his nostrils playing games with his stomach.
After a couple of minutes, Logan turned back to face the horror before him. It was unrecognisable; just a twisted mould of rotten flesh dressed in a smart black suit. The tattered hole in the throat was the most likely cause of death, but the broken and shattered nature of the arms and legs suggested the poor bastard had been tortured first.
A nametag hung loosely from the body's jacket and Logan pressed his face firmly into his coat before leaning in to examine it more closely.
"Ames white!" Logan cried turning toward Gray with an expression of wide-eyed astonishment plastered on his face.
"Yeah, I did you a favour there," Gray said still looking at the body of NSA agent White. "Back in the day, I thought he might have known the location of our beloved Max. Turned out he didn't."
Logan couldn't believe it. Ames White, a powerful member of the Conclave, who had been the thorn in Max's side up until the massacre at Terminal City; was now lying dead. Logan didn't know whether to feel happy or sad. Despite all he had done to Max, did Ames White really deserve to die in such a way?
"Lucky for me there was somebody who was able to help," Gray said interrupting Logan's confused thoughts. He grabbed the blanket again and pulled it away to reveal his second victim.
Asha sat, her body stiff and pale, staring past Logan at something not there. Her face was bloodied and there was a clean bullet hole in the centre of her forehead. She was wearing the same outfit she had worn when Logan had last seen her, only now it was covered in her blood.
Logan bowed his head and the tears just came, splashing on the pool of dried blood that surrounded the corpses. Falling to his knees, Logan sobbed uncontrollably joining Max in the never-ending void of complete hopelessness. Asha shouldn't be the one lying there; she didn't deserve this.
Gray bent down and leaned close enough to Logan for his warm breath to brush his skin. "The little bitch sang like a canary after a little…encouragement."
"Shut up."
"She was adamant that you not meet the same fate as her. So much so that she gave up Max like that," Gray clicked his fingers. "Of course she was under the impression that I was going to let her go, poor little lamb."
"Shut up"
"I enjoyed killing her, she was so…so pure." Gray shivered. "Oh such a rush."
"Shut the fuck up!" Logan cried, swinging at Gray and hitting nothing but air. He crashed to the ground and remained there defeated.
"You want to know who I am," Gray kicked Logan in the ribs. The force of the shot sent Logan into the air and he landed hard on the concrete with a groan. "This is me," he spread his arms out in a wide arc that encompassed both corpses.
Gray came up to Logan and delivered another kick to the ribs. Logan felt the bone crack and grunted in pain. Again he was sent through the air and again he fell hard on the floor, his face smashing into the concrete dislodging a tooth. He spat it out with an accompaniment of crimson blood.
Gray wasn't finished yet and he stood above Logan and smiled. Logan tried to push himself off the floor, back to his feet, but Gray brought the heel of his shoe down onto his outstretched hand. Logan howled as all four of his fingers crumbled with the force of the blow. This was agony; this was the end; this was unbearable and he wanted everything to stop.
"I am death, evil in the flesh," Gray snarled. "I am an unwanted child of Manticore created by nature to maintain balance. Those fools regarded me as a failure, those fucking fools who tried to play god. I am their punishment, I am the world's punishment and no one will see me coming."
Gray paused mid rant to unleash another kick to the ribs that sent Logan tumbling, clutching his mangled and bloodied hand. He followed after Logan, picked him up and backhanded him across the face, splitting his lip. More blood gushed from Logan's mouth as he fell helpless to the floor. The pain was all he could think about, all he could feel was the anguish that seemed to have no end as it cursed through his body. He tried to picture Max but got nothing but the sight of his own blood pouring from his mouth onto the concrete.
"All that fuck Sandeman wanted was a messiah, an all powerful being to bring down the dastardly Conclave. I was born out of that desire to do good, to save the fucking world. Sandeman looked upon me with fear, realised his mistake. He put his faith in Max and ran away to hide and let everything unfold through cryptic prophecies." Gray's voice softened slightly. " For some reason I don't think Max understood hers…does she even know she's the 'messiah'?"
Logan couldn't answer, the pain and the anguish was all he knew right now.
Gray sighed, " he wanted to save the world and ended up with me, and believe me Logan, I will be a whole lot worse than the Conclave once I become complete. Not now but after I bleed your little bitch I will be complete and then things will get really fucked up."
Logan listened to Gray and his soul sank deeper into the void of despair. Now things made sense and he wished they didn't. The pain was beginning to numb his whole body and he could picture Max in his mind. He could see Gray killing her, bleeding her and that was the end, for Logan at least. Tears rolled down his cheeks, merging with the thick blood and doing little to dilute its texture.
"Oh no! I've said too much!" Gray threw his hands up in mock distress before reaching down and hoisting Logan to his feet so that they were face-to-face. He leaned in close and talked in a breathless whisper that hissed and spat in Logan's face with pure hate and determination.
"I beat Max down, killed that prick Alec because I believe our battle should be worthy of the prophecy. Only by killing the other can either of us become complete, so we will fight and she will die. Currently she is unprepared, no match for me, so I took matters into my own hands. If Max has nothing left she will give her entirety into our battle, what's the point in being reserved when you have fuck all to lose? I took what was left of her pathetic little life, and it was so fucking sweet to watch her fall. It will be a beautiful moment Logan, when we battle…but you wont see it. You are all she has left so…"
The last thing Logan saw was Gray's fist ploughing into his face, robbing him of his consciousness. He didn't know whether he was alive or dead but he felt at peace, cowering in the darkness. This was salvation; the end had arrived; it was bearable and finally everything had stopped.