Lanna,
The following review has been submitted to: Reverse Chapter: 7
From: Topaz()
I was really sorry that you abandoned this fic. It was good and had so much potential. I wanted Max and Logan to meet, even tho you don't write romance. I would have done that in my head and my heart.
It was good while it lasted. I still look for it every day on ff.net.
Topaz,
Thanks for your continued interest in my fic! You have no idea how much it means. And for your concern over this writing endeavor, this chapter is dedicated to you and only you. You are great!
Thank you once again,
Lanna
Chapter Eight
It had been a month since Kelly had counted the paint strokes and Max and Logan had gotten into another tiff. So far, Logan had found one more of his siblings other than Zack. Consequently, Mercedes had gotten a pay raise and Logan became more willing to keep watch over Max. Maybel still hadn't been introduced to the Gueveras, and the terrorists hadn't gotten any further with their plans to take over the United States.
Everything seemed fine in the world of Max. All was well: she was getting good grades (her English teacher had forgiven her momentary "lapse of judgment" in turning in the quite unrealistic paper), and she was having a blast with her friends. Her mother seemed to allow her more freedom in the wine-cooler aspect of things, and had even stopped trying to set her up with "nice boys" Merche had "just happened" to meet.
But - and there is always a "but" when things are going spectacularly – Max was getting bored. Things had calmed down to the point where life was starting to feel static. To counteract this, she had stepped up her hacking forays into the real world. This time, though, she wasn't nearly as obvious about it. She continuously tried different approaches to getting into Manticore's mainframe. One day she would be a hit from Singapore; the next, the Congo. Each and every time, she made sure she would be traced only from remote locations around the world, coming from where the hack would be considered harmless. Never was she located in Washington, and rarely was she ever based in the States.
These hacking adventures were getting to be the only things she looked forward to during the day. Neither her mother nor her watchdog, Logan, knew about what she was doing and, if they were at all suspicious about the sudden dark circles under her eyes, they never said a word.
Said dark circles made an appearance each and every morning before she applied her make-up, which would explain the normally very observant Logan never noticing them. As she stumbled out of her bedroom and into the kitchen one morning, however, she ran into a large obstacle.
"...the hell?" Max mumbled almost incoherently into the most definitely moving surface in front of her.
...Since when to walls breathe?
Her step hitching ever so slightly as she took a step backwards, she tilted her head and blearily tried to focus her eyes to figure out just into what she had run. Slowly but surely her vision cleared – with the help of many yawns and much blinking, of course. The image that appeared in front of her was no other than the smiling countenance of one Logan Cale.
"Aw fuck," Max grumbled. Returning her gaze to the floor and ignoring the confused frown that had made its way onto Logan's face, she deftly—well, as deftly as an incredibly sleep-deprived person can be—sidestepped him and headed into the kitchen. Finding that the coffee hadn't been started yet, she got out the coffee grinds and started up the maker. She seemed to completely forget that there was another person in the house as her head drifted downward to rest on her chest and her eyes closed.
Logan just raised an eyebrow, the smile back and ghosting his lips with its presence. He could have sworn he just heard a snore. He was about to go and stop the coffee maker since it was nearly finished, but he guessed that Max must have an internal clock or something because her head sprung up off her chest and her eyes opened as it was ready to signal being done. He nearly laughed at the sight, but decided that he rather liked his head where it was, thankyouverymuch. Instead, he cleared his throat once she'd gulped down half a cup of the substance and looked a bit more awake.
Max's head swiveled in his direction, and when her eyes lighted upon his person, she sighed heavily and muttered under her breath, "Damn. It wasn't just some hallucination." A bit louder, she continued, "What are you doing here so early?"
It was at this point that Logan noticed the circles under her eyes. He merely raised an eyebrow and answered her question with one of his own. "How much sleep have you gotten lately?"
Max rolled her eyes, refilled her mug, and headed into the living room in lieu of answering his question. She plopped down onto the couch—carefully avoiding any spillage of the precious caffeine-containing liquid, of course—and reached for the TV remote. Keeping her eyes glued onto the early morning news anchors, she hoped to avoid any unwanted conversation with Logan.
Ah, but at least wishing is free.
"You know, I have a feeling that you're going to get mononucleosis or another sleeping disease if you keep staying up late and drinking all of this caffeine." His voice took on a condescending tone, and Max couldn't hide rolling her eyes in his direction.
"Yes, Mother." She proceeded to then ignore him, focusing all of her attention on the TV as her brain registered the news anchor talking.
"—And in other news, a woman was found dead last night, floating in Puget Sound. She had been dead for several days when a local man reported seeing the body. Sector police for that area have not confirmed the identity of the woman, but we are told that she had reddish-brown hair with white streaks in the front. She was around five foot, two inches tall, and had green eyes. If you know anyone that matches this description, please report..."
Logan's gaze slowly returned to rest upon Max. He could do nothing but watch as the coffee mug fell forgotten from her fingers.
There was a brief, stunned, frightened silence before Max became a product of adrenaline-induced energy. "Mom!" Her robe fluttered around her and her hair was flying out behind her as she dashed into her mother's room, Logan following but at a more sedate pace. Ignoring the alarm clock that proudly stated the hour as being seven forty-nine, she shook Mercedes mercilessly until she started showing signs of waking up.
"Mom!" Max hurriedly tucked her hair behind her ear before shaking her mother again. "Mom! Mom, come on, you gotta wake up now." She got a response of eyes trying up blink but failing because they were still closed. "Mom, seriously, this is urgent. The terrorists are getting closer."
Merche's eyes flew open at this and became immediately half-lidded. "What?" came her groggy but awake voice.
"They killed a woman and dumped her body in Puget Sound. Mom, they're closer! And you never told me that they'd already used someone!" Logan watched as Max's previous energy started to reshape itself into blind panic. "You didn't tell me that they'd already gotten someone to do their dirty work!"
Mercedes frowned at her daughter. "But, honey, if they've already done what they set out to do, then why would they still be after you?"
Max rocked back on her heels at this statement, blinking several times. Then, apparent to both of the other people in the room, the tension slowly drained out of the older teen. So much of the energy left her, in fact, that she started to slump forwards. It was only the near-lightning speed of Logan's reflexes that prevented her from falling flat onto her face.
Mercedes yawned and waved lazily to Logan. "Just put her in her room. She'll be out cold for the next few hours, I'm sure." There was another yawn, and she rolled over, pulling the blankets farther up so her entire body was covered. "Th'nks, Logan," came the muffled voice. And with that, Merche left a slightly stunned but still stoic Logan alone with Max passed out and standing only with the strength of his arm.
"Er." Logan blinked a few times before realizing that he was standing in his employer's room—his female employer's room—with said woman's daughter unconscious and practically in his arms. He shook himself out of his stupor and treated Mercedes's command as it was: a command that was to be followed. Logan simply added "without feeling" on the end as he picked Max up and headed towards her bedroom. As soon as he opened the door, however, his jaw dropped in shock.
Max's room was a disaster area. Clothes were strewn carelessly around—is that a bra on the ceiling fan?—and there were schoolbooks tossed to the floor by her desk with reckless abandon. On the sides of said computer desk were multitudes of used eating ware with congealing food on the majority of them. Wine cooler bottles were on the floor by the desk, and surprisingly some had made it into the trash bin by the door. He noticed that there was an old, rather large coffee mug—nearly licked clean, he noted—in the place of prominence in front of the computer screen, drawing his attention to the computer. It computer was still on, and with his excellent vision he saw that she was in the middle of writing an English report on...
"Manticore?" Logan's face contorted into one of surprise. "What the fuck?"
Realizing that he still had Max in his arms—is she trying to use me as a blanket?—he stepped over the lumps on the floor and somehow made it to her bed without tripping and falling over. Gently, or at least as gently as he could, he laid her down on the unmade surface. He pulled the blankets from underneath her and tucked them around her so she would be warm, and then practically leaped over the bed in his hurry to get to the computer.
"Why is she messing around with Manticore?" he muttered under his breath, immediately grabbing the mouse and scrolling to the top of the Word document. "Doesn't she understand that she could be killed?" Soon, however, his thoughts were wrapped up entirely in Max's notes on his creation place, and he found himself drawn back into the past...
(Flashback)
"X5-254."
The X5 in question stepped out of the line of other assembled X5s. The expression on the boy's face was nonexistent, and he held his posture better than the most experienced and most disciplined soldier any of the world governments could train. His startling blue eyes were focused on a point in front of him while not focusing at all on the man that was stalking smugly up and down the line.
"You will take point on a scout mission northerly from this facility. You are to record any and all information on suspicious activity. Report back to me." The man stopped in front of the boy still standing at attention. "You will be watched at all times, but do not think that is supposed to happen." His eyes shifted to farther down the line and he resumed his walk. "Record all suspicious activity." He stopped at the end of the line and turned so that he was at a ninety-degree angle from the rest of the soldiers in the room. "Dismissed." He watched as the boy led the other members in his unit out of the room, and a feral grin played along his lips.
It will be fun to watch them fail.
The group of three ran calmly, determinedly, and silently through the pines that surrounded them. They were on the alert--so high on the alert, actually, that the ants on the pine bark were noted. But even super soldiers get tired and need to eat.
Logan, the smallest of the three signaled with her hands. Food. Rest. They had been out there for nearly a day without stopping, and while she didn't need to sleep, Kelly knew that the other members of her group were starting to show signs of fatigue, even if they were too prideful to mention it.
To the inexperienced eye, it seemed as if her suggestion was ignored. The team kept moving for another thirty minutes before Logan halted abruptly and raised his hand with the signal to stop. Immediately the three set to work on constructing a camp, which meant that they each propped up against a tree. His first command after the stop was to assign Kelly to guard duty, as she required very little rest. Once he was sure that the other member of their team was asleep, he shortly followed suit.
"Zack! What the hell is your problem?" Logan yelled at his brother--and his subordinate. "Why can't you just leave her alone? She's your sister!"
For months now, Zack had been harassing Kelly. It had started out innocently enough; he would be a little more vicious than he needed to be during training, or he'd short sheet her bed. But lately, it had gotten out of hand. He would attack her in the hallways, away from the others that might be able to stop him. His beatings would often leave her incapacitated and unable to train with the others. Finally, she'd gotten up enough courage to come to Logan, her C.O., and have him deal with the problem.
Zack sneered at the slightly taller child. In a fight, Zack bet that he could beat his brother with one hand behind his back. Logan had gotten soft, Zack thought; the leadership could be his if he beat his brother. However, instead of challenging him outright, with the rest of the X5s standing behind Logan, he turned his sneer into a smile.
"I don't have a problem, big brother." Logan's a nut for family ties, he thought to himself. Remember that. "What makes you think I do?"
Logan deftly ignored the brother comment and kept his anger running high. "Kelly has come to me with a complaint. You've been hitting your little sister, Zack?" He raised a challenging eyebrow.
So. He wants to fight. Zack's hands clenched slightly before he answered. "We all hit each other, brother-dear. It's called training." Play the crowd; get them to side with you.
A line of white appeared around Logan's tightening lips. He knew what Zack was doing. "I'm not talking about training and you know it. I'm talking about after dinner, on the way back to the barracks." He turned to face the others standing in the room with him. "You've all seen the bruises on X5-648?" His question was met with nods. "You've all noticed the lack of her at practice?" More nods. "She came to me tonight, telling me that -- " There was a yell from behind him, and before he had time to react he was tackled to the ground...
(End Flashback)
"Zack!" he yelled, growling at the same time. He shot straight up in bed, every nerve ready to attack the next thing that moved. Slowly, however, he realized that he was in a bed, when he had originally been sitting at the computer, which... was on his left? And he was tucked in? His shoes were off, and there was a needle in his arm..?
"What the hell?"
There was a little whimper of sound coming from behind him on his right. He whipped his body around, only to see Max standing there holding a glass of water and as wide-eyed as a kitten.
"Good afternoon?" she squeaked.
