The Day Of Reckoning: Part 1

Disclaimer: Anything you could sue me for isn't mine

This is an AU story


The black, the blank, the bleak little cage was crying on him, weeping blood. Inside he was crammed, he had thrown himself in at the last minute, self-inflicted night, moonlight accompanied by the screams, the echoes of anguish and almost unimaginable pain. He had put himself in this, made himself do it, they told him not to, but he wouldn't let them go, he wouldn't let them leave him.

The light that crept through the gaps shot accusations at him like the bullets that licked his ears with their venomous tongues, his tears burning down his cheeks as they rang in the stagnant fog like funeral bells, lingering with the most morbid attraction. The three outside dead, riddled with gaping holes, broken streams, gurgling brooks of crimson which flowed over the road, seemingly trying its best to escape the prison of their bodies, vacating the corpses like the hope vacated the boys dreams, shattered bodies and a soul, fragmented by the anguish of something too shocking for conscious sanity to comprehend. And so it simply chose not to, but its scars were becoming increasingly evident, it wouldn't be long now before his memory failed him, before his memory didn't fail.

Before he even knew he was awake he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the ball of his palms, his dry lips scoured as a rough cough ripped over them, he had slept well, but felt like shit. Hell he was still dressed, he had a blanket over him, but he was stiff from dropping into sleep unprepared by the looks of it, yet his glasses were absent from his face, Max must have found him an removed them. Max… he inhaled sharply as he found himself staring at a pristine mental photograph of her stretching in nothing more than her extraordinarily arousing underwear, damn… snapping out of it he realised that his legs where sore from lying in the exoskeleton all night, and he grimaced as his stiff body rose, gritting his teeth as various parts cracked and tensed.

Stiffly he stood, and he swallowed hard, his dreams where beginning to trouble him, their imagery sharp and full of things he couldn't remember he knew, things which fucked him up with just their concept. He was confused by it, but they seemed so familiar. He knew that they where of his parent's death, but other than that it was a blur of what small fragments his mind placed before him, the whispers of his dreams.

Traipsing to his kitchen he filled the coffee machine with a hand full of beans, a few from his pre mixed bag, 2 Italian to 8 Brazilian If he remembered correctly, it was distinct, but he liked it. Still draped in the worn and overly creased garments of the day prior he again thought of Max, this time trailing to her door, wondering if she was awake yet. Yet? What time it was remained a mystery, and he wandered off to his bedroom to look at the clock, and upon arrival he remembered he was wearing a watch. 'Dear god I'm asleep on my feet' he though, 'so bloody dozy I can't think'.

He wandered back to Max's doorway opposite his, now firmly in possession of the knowledge it was 10.04am. Knocking with the back of his knuckles he rasped hoarsely as his voice broke, coughing he tried again to use it for the first time since the sun shone its rays over him that day.

"Max? Max you up yet?"

The door opened and she stood looking up at him, this life giving wry smile of hers dragging the tiredness from his body as her eyes drew his 10 miles deep into her soul.

She was wearing nothing except the lacy number he had seen her in the previous time he had the pleasure to grace her figure with his attention, and he was speechless, literally.

"I see somebody's…up" She purred at him running a soft finger down over his lips, down to the base of his neck and to his thinly toned chest. He was suddenly paralysed as well, his brain was shutting down and she stepped up to him, tearing his top straight down the middle and pushing down his arms and off, it crumpled in a heap, much like Logan would if he could physically act. Running her hands back up his arms she liked what she felt, toned muscle, sprinkling of hair and odd scars and moles, identifying marks. To his taught shoulders she dug her fingers in, massaging away the nervous tensing of his body, reeling in the closing of his eyes as she stepped in and their body's caressed, his lips parting as he felt her chest push against his tough frame.

Her hand slipped down his chest, flicking open his pants, and he knew what her only words to him had meant. Kissing his throat and neck she brought him with her to the bed, falling back she pulled him on top of her, and she moaned softly as she felt him all over her, her inner legs set alight by the dancing hairs on his outer leg. Her eyes drifted shut as he pressed his hips into hers, she gasped at the contact. Opening her eyes she saw the door a few feet from the end of the bed. She was wrapped up, alone.

"Shit"

"Max you up yet?" She heard from the other side of the door. Oh, freaky…

"Yeah," she said loudly so as he could hear her, "What do you want?" She wished she hadn't said it so harshly, a bit bitter that Logan had stolen her away from, ahem, Logan.

"Erm, you want some coffee? Freshly ground?" he added the last bit as a sure fire ego stroke, he was pretty proud of the discovery of his own personal blend. More so he wanted her to get up, he wanted to see her. Guess she must not be a morning person; he took the judgement from the razor tone in her voice.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute" She called, then heard the minute sounds of him moving away from the spare room which she occupied.

Whoa, what the hell was all that about? She could swear she could taste him, on her tongue, even more weird was the fact she didn't usually dream unless she… of fuck. No she couldn't be, but she had said that about things before. No, Manticore would never stop looking for her, they did (Because they're all dead), Normal was never straight, but for some reason he did actually like females, and it was really god-awful timing for her to go into heat. All the "I couldn't be? Or could I?"s in the world couldn't shake her feeling that the almost tangible dream she had just experienced was brought on by it.

Heat.

Oh fuck. Now what am I going to do? Maybe I'm just, what? Horny? I don't get horny, I get insane every few months. But maybe I? Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck…

Nothing I can do, might as well go see how bad it is, see how hard it is to control.

Rousing from her bed she decided that she wouldn't get dressed yet, as she was going to take advantage of his shower, and would quite frankly not take no for an answer from him. Maybe he wanted one too…? What? Did I just think that? Shut up Max!

Wearing a dressing gown hung on the back of the door she opened it and stepped out into the hallway, inhale deeply and blew out, then turned towards the kitchen area where she could hear liquid meeting the bottom of mugs, 'still calm' she thought to herself, composure control at 100.

Upon seeing him she smiled, he looked rough. His clothes creased and his hair worse than usual, but his eyes were bloodshot slightly, nothing a change of clothes, breakfast and showe… Shut it! His sea deep blue eyes had something below the surface she hadn't seen before, something troubling him, and it hurt her to see it.

"Thanks". She accepted the mug he had passed her as he walked around to face her.

"Hope you like it" he smiled, smelling his like an addict she noticed, but the aroma was quite different from what coffee smelled like usually. Tasting it was also different, she wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but upon second sip she found herself quite fond of it.

"Its unusual, but I like it." ,her lips only an inch or so from the cup as she sampled more of the strange brew.

"Yeah I know how you feel" He smiled shaking his hand in his scraggy hair. Rolling her eyes up she wondered if he was referring to her, probably by the slight smirk he had, but he still didn't look his normal self.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, just a rough night." He passed her off with, and she knew it wasn't that.

"Bad Dreams?"

"How could you tell?"

"You look like shit"

"Good morning to you too. This coming from somebody with the morning manner of a rabid wolverine" He drew a drink from his mug and grinned at her.

"Yeah sorry about that, I was just enjoying myself" She looked a bit disgruntled at herself for biting his head off with her first few words of the day. Logan however almost choked on his coffee, coughing and placing his mug down behind him.

He looked at her in disbelief, and she then clicked what he had thought she meant.

"I was having a nice dream, what did you think I meant?" She enticed him to take the bait, but she knew he never would.

"Hot coffee" He bit his lip for a split second before re-collecting his mug.

"Men." She chuckled to herself.

He looked embarrassed, but she had taken note of the fact that he had been the one with sex on his mind, not her, and if she were in heat she would have attacked him on sight. She was now forced to see that she found him so attractive that she was dreaming about him, which had never happened before. It was strange, even now when he looked like he did, she found herself charmed by his wit and scruffy appearance, and she was worried about him. That was completely new to her. She had never actually cared about a guy enough to give a fuck how he felt if it didn't affect her. Logan was hiding something, and it pained her that he did, she wanted to help him. She had now openly admitted to herself that she cared about him, he was important to her, and his problem was now her problem.

"You sure your okay?" She looked at him with a quiet sense of empathy.

"Yeah I'm fine," he told her. She kept looking at him, knowing that wasn't all he was going to say. "Just a bit shook up is all"

"Wanna talk about it?" She asked, and he shook his head slightly.

"Thanks" He said simply. "You hungry then?"

"Am I ever not?"


Rumandello had been walking through the night, and was nearing the hospital, the signs pointing him since a few miles back. So far he had not slain anybody, mainly because he didn't want to have to deal with the sector cops, just yet. Before they learned of his existence he needed the information on the whereabouts of 452 from Lydecker. That was crucial to his plans, after that the authorities could be cut down just like anybody else in his way. He would gain closure. This would go full circle. Manticore's legacy would be denied his life, and it would finally put an end to those who abducted him and everything they had tortured him to create. He knew he was already the dead walking, the reaper. It would not be long now before the disease they awoke in him killed him, he lost his control and just became a block of malleable metal.

Before that happened he wanted answers, and all the more fun if anybody tried to stop him.


Running her hand through her hair as the hot water licked her body she was forced to conceive that she was just plain horny this morning, for him alone. An odd idea that her arousal was not for just a hot guy, but she was specific it was him that made her like this.

It was a nice thought that he had been in this shower before her, the body her mind remembered in blurs an vivid gasps hot with water, it was to be blatant, arousing, but she had better stop, it wasn't a healthy idea. They where going after Lydecker, the monster under the bed from her days in Manticore, and she needs to get her head straight, get in the game. Then wondered what smelly fruit based soapy thing to use, it was a luxury she had never before been given.