**Sorry, this is more of a 'transitional' chapter... :-D its really short
that's why I uploaded like two more chapters tonight, including this one :-
D **
*-*-*
Logan watched intently, observing the documentary footage. He had already
viewed 12 of the documentaries and after viewing the first few, he had felt
something within himself that he never thought he would feel. Hate. Bold,
swollen, and bleeding hate for Renfro, for Manticore, for everything that
Manticore stood for. How could humanity be capable of doing this to
another human being? He questioned himself. His bottle of scotch was
nearly empty and he knew that the moment he moved that his wheel chair
would probably be rolling into tables and door frames on the way to his
bed. Logan watched in horror, with a well-masked face, the torture that
Max had endured. Her eyes were squeezed so tightly that it seemed that she
didn't have eyes, her body thrashed against the restraints, her teeth
clenched around a leather bit and all the while her voice was nothing but a
broken, muffled shriek. No wonder she won't talk to anyone... Logan watched
as the electricity that swelled through her veins forces tiny threads of
blood to seep from her skin. At the end of each session, her body became
limp and was strapped to a gurney and rolled out of the screen.
The following three files were actually audio recordings of interrogations with Max. Logan listened as she was asked to state her designation and Max answered,
"My name is Max."
He could hear Renfro correcting her, informing Max that her designation was X-5 452 and her purpose was to serve Manticore and only Manticore.
Logan grazed over the rest of the files, deciding whether or not he would confront Max about what happened to her. Then a little voice kicked into his brain, Are you insane? She should never find out that you have these files... Logan shut down his computer and retired for bed. He would watch the rest of the files the following day. Max didn't have to be alone in this, she shouldn't have to be. As Logan turned off the lights in his room and slipped into his $352 silk sheets, he shuddered realizing how many other transgenics must have gone through the very same torture as Max. *-*-* Max jumped with a start out of bed. A trashcan had tipped over somewhere one floor below her window. She rolled over and held her pillow over her ears.
"I'm such a wuss." She whispered, ashamed of her latest behavior. "Didn't used to be, but I am now."
Her skin was hot, the heat in the building had busted once again. Max didn't care though; she would not be replacing her long sleeved PJ shirt with a short-sleeved one. She hated those damn scars. Fucking hated them. They reminded her of the person she had become and the piece of herself she had lost. Although she knew perfectly well that she was currently safe in her bed, at night, one floor above peering eyes, curtains drawn and door locked- her paranoia was getting the best of her. She had become more afraid to go out on runs for Jam Pony, she was afraid to be awake, afraid to be asleep. Worst of all she felt alone, and she was struggling with the pieces of memories that had slowly begun to drift back to her since the final escape. 'If one was able to...' kept creeping back into her brain. Able to what?! She would think to herself angrily. Why couldn't she remember? Why had this happened to her? Why, why, why?!
Her alarm clock buzzed its annoying wake-up call. Time for work, time for more paranoia. Joy.
The following three files were actually audio recordings of interrogations with Max. Logan listened as she was asked to state her designation and Max answered,
"My name is Max."
He could hear Renfro correcting her, informing Max that her designation was X-5 452 and her purpose was to serve Manticore and only Manticore.
Logan grazed over the rest of the files, deciding whether or not he would confront Max about what happened to her. Then a little voice kicked into his brain, Are you insane? She should never find out that you have these files... Logan shut down his computer and retired for bed. He would watch the rest of the files the following day. Max didn't have to be alone in this, she shouldn't have to be. As Logan turned off the lights in his room and slipped into his $352 silk sheets, he shuddered realizing how many other transgenics must have gone through the very same torture as Max. *-*-* Max jumped with a start out of bed. A trashcan had tipped over somewhere one floor below her window. She rolled over and held her pillow over her ears.
"I'm such a wuss." She whispered, ashamed of her latest behavior. "Didn't used to be, but I am now."
Her skin was hot, the heat in the building had busted once again. Max didn't care though; she would not be replacing her long sleeved PJ shirt with a short-sleeved one. She hated those damn scars. Fucking hated them. They reminded her of the person she had become and the piece of herself she had lost. Although she knew perfectly well that she was currently safe in her bed, at night, one floor above peering eyes, curtains drawn and door locked- her paranoia was getting the best of her. She had become more afraid to go out on runs for Jam Pony, she was afraid to be awake, afraid to be asleep. Worst of all she felt alone, and she was struggling with the pieces of memories that had slowly begun to drift back to her since the final escape. 'If one was able to...' kept creeping back into her brain. Able to what?! She would think to herself angrily. Why couldn't she remember? Why had this happened to her? Why, why, why?!
Her alarm clock buzzed its annoying wake-up call. Time for work, time for more paranoia. Joy.
