(Twelve)
The Clansmen were up against the cage, tied in place. They were all awake now and even though they were injured, were now watching the screen, as transfixed by the unfolding events as the others. Valentin had propped himself up, but was wheezing noticeably from his injuries. Henry had spent some time taping his ribs while he watched the files, but Valentin was not exactly comfortable being lashed to the cage like that.
Valentin now glared at Bruce with his bruised and swollen eyes. "I shoulda known better than to keep a little faggot boy like you around. No wonder you're so lousy in a fight," he growled menacingly, unable to keep from saying something nasty. Watching these men that he had thought he had known so well up on the screen filled him revulsion. It was clear from the look on Justin's face that he was just going to have to accept the truth that this fine officer had been in fact gay. It had been right in front of him the whole time and Valentin never noticed.
Bruce ignored the dig. He was looking up in wonder at Zander on the screen. He was lost in a emotional storm. He didn't know what was worse, seeing Justin again so vibrant and alive or Zander. Justin's loss was still too fresh and filled him with pain, but the shock of seeing Zander again was just as disturbing. The familiar face, the hard lean body, forgotten over the years, brought back a flood of memories. He had really liked Zander, even considering him a friend at the time. He had forgotten how much he had desired him.
What had he been thinking at the time? That the Siskan holograms were new and everyone knew about them and what they were really for. The Clan had awakened them not for use in a pleasure room, but for use as sparring partners in the Clan's rigorous training programs. What could be better than a sparring partner that could be crammed full of the best fighting files and then repaired at will by use of the power cubes? It seemed impossible that a Courtesan could be used for such a violent purpose instead of in the bedroom, but all four had worked out well, especially this one. Even so, nobody believed the Siskans were sentient or even close to being real people.
Bruce had been paired with Justin a long time already, even back then. They had grown up together, falling in love even before they were teenagers. Somewhere along the way he had bumped into Zander and there had been a spark there, something that said Zander wasn't the least bit satisfied with being a tool for the Clan and wanted something more, preferably with him. Bruce hadn't wanted anything serious, that was absurd, but then Zander wasn't a real person, he was just some Siskan machine. Bruce found himself conflicted over his interest in Zander, dragging his feet and drawing out the game with the Siskan while he tried to make up his mind if what he was doing was wrong. It wasn't cheating unless it was flesh and blood, right?
(break)
From across the room, Logan couldn't hide the disgust that crossed his face. This situation was getting uglier by the minute. He wasn't a big fan of homosexuality, but that wasn't the problem. He didn't like how Zander had forced himself on Bruce.
Wolverine was a man of many issues and many secrets. He'd seen a lot of things in his long life. His experiences had molded him and affected his opinions and judgements. He'd spent some time in a mental hospital and had even been jailed a time or two. He'd seen men beaten and raped there. What he was looking at now didn't fall much shorter than that in his opinion. Okay, Bruce wasn't exactly kicking and screaming about it, but there was no denying Kimble's persuasion. Logan was convinced Kimble had done something chemically or telepathically to Bruce to wear him down. Logan had a serious problem with that, especially when it looked to him like he'd done the same thing to Carya and Hayden. Logan disliked rape in any form and it brought up a deep dark rage from deep within him.
Logan was a complex man with a fragmented memory and a worse temper. The Professor had helped him deal with it by teaching him to compartmentalize what memories he had and the deep emotions that came with them. Logan had a head full of locked doors, most of them labeled, "Do Not Enter". The majority of the abuse he'd suffered or witnessed was locked behind those doors. Watching Kimble wear down Bruce like that was causing more than one of those doors to ease gently open, letting out screams of rage and frustration. In his weakened state, Logan barely had the strength to keep them closed. A low growl rumbled low and deep from his chest, catching Henry's attention.
"What?" Henry asked softly, almost not wanting to know. He knew the growl meant Logan was really pissed off about something.
Logan didn't answer, but the growl was next replaced with a wicked smile. He wasn't happy with Kimble, but it seemed he wasn't the only one. Kimble was going to get what he deserved.
